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 ALPHEUS SPRING PACKARD 
 
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 PRINTED FOR BOWDOIN COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 BRUNSWICK, MAINE 
 1886 
 
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 PRINTED AT JOURNAL OFFICE. LEWISTON, MAINE. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 This volume has arisen from a desire to preserve in book 
 form a memorial of a long and honored career entirely given 
 to the service of the college. To select from the large store of 
 material suited to this purpose has been a difScult task. For 
 reasons that need not be mentioned, it has been thought best 
 to use only what was said in memory of Professor Packard at 
 Brunswick, the scene of his life work. To these tributes have 
 been added, at the request of friends, two of his own addresses, 
 each in its way characteristic of the man. A short biograph- 
 ical sketch has been prefixed in order to present in connected 
 form the outlines of the life, and to supplement at certain 
 points the addresses which treat more fully of its character 
 
 and influence. 
 
 George T. Little. 
 
 Bowdoin College, May 14, 1886. 
 
LIST OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Heliottpe of Professor Packard. . . ■ Frontispiece 
 
 Prefatory Note. iii 
 
 Biographical Sketch. The Compiler. . . V 
 
 Address at the Funeral. Joshua L. Chamberlain. 1 1 
 
 Poem. Samuel V. Cole. 16 
 
 Sermon. William P. Fisher 17 
 
 Remarks at College Chapel. Henry L. Chapman. 35 
 
 Tribute from Undergraduates. Boivdoin Orient. 39 
 
 Commemorative Address. Egbert C. Smyth. . . 42 
 
 Lecture on Character. Alpheus S. Packard. . QQ 
 
 Remarks at Portland. Alpheus 8. Packard. . . 82 
 
 Bibliography 89 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 Among the sevenscore passengers wliicli the ship 
 Diligence brought to New England in 1638 was Samuel 
 Packard of Wymondham, in Norfolk County. His 
 great-grandson, through his son Zaccheus and his 
 grandson Solomon, was Jacob Packard, the father of 
 Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., and the grand parent of 
 the subject of this sketch. The lives and characters 
 of these earlier generations — all natives or residents 
 of Bridgewater, Mass., — were of the type their Bible 
 names suggest, and were marked by no small share of 
 the virtue commemorated by the vessel which bore the 
 first of the name to this country. The aphorism which 
 Professor Packard's grandmother gave her son as he 
 left home to serve in the revolutionary army, "Pray- 
 ing will cause thee to leave sinning, and sinning will 
 cause thee to leave praying," would indicate that the 
 piety that characterized the later generations has not 
 been a mushroom growth. 
 
 Alpheus Spring Packard, the eldest son of Heze- 
 kiah and Mary Packard* was born at Chelmsford, 
 Mass., December 23, 1798. He was not less fortunate 
 in his maternal than in his paternal ancestry. His 
 mother was a woman of marked culture and refinement. 
 Her father, for whom he was named, the Reverend 
 
 * Owing to the extended notice of Professor Packard's parents, on pages 
 44-7, it has not been thought necessary to make further mention of them here. 
 
Alpheus Spring, — a descendant of John Spring, one of 
 the original proprietors of Watertown, Mass., — gradu- 
 ated at Princeton in 1766, was settled over the west 
 parish in Kittery, now Eliot, Me., and died there at the 
 age of forty-six, after a pastorate of twenty-three years. 
 His wife was Sarah, daughter of Hon. Simon Frost, a 
 graduate of Harvard in 1729, and long in public life, 
 and of Mar}'^ Sewall, a descendant of Henry Sewall, 
 who came from Coventry, England, in 1634, and be- 
 came the founder of the well-known New England 
 family of this name. 
 
 Although Professor Packard was a native of Mas- 
 sachusetts, yet his father's removal in 1802 to Wiscas- 
 set, Me., obliges one to look to the latter place, which 
 was afterward his home until he settled in his life-work 
 at Brunswick, for those influences of social life and 
 physical surroundings that exert so great power over 
 the formative period of boyhood. The character and 
 extent of these have been elsewhere described, and 
 space allows a picture of but one from the many feat- 
 ures of his childhood life. Fortunately it is drawn by 
 his own pen.*' 
 
 "We can not forget those winter Sabbaths in that old struct- 
 ure ; its front door, without shelter, opening into the east wind 
 and snow ; its floor a stranger from first to last to the comfort of 
 carpet, except it may be in the more pretentious pews ; the fierce 
 rattling of the windows when the winds were high, sometimes 
 almost overpowering the ordinary voice of the preacher ; and the 
 preacher himself delivering his message in surtout cloak and 
 black silk gloves. We recall the look to us children of the mas- 
 
 *The following is taken from the "Address delivered on the occasion of 
 the Centennial Celebration of tlie Congregational Chxirch at Wiscasset, Au- 
 gust 6, 1873." 
 
sive sounding-board over the minister's head, our wonderment as 
 to what contrivance kept it there, and the consequences of its 
 possible fall ; the seat against the wall at the head of the 
 pulpit stairway, occupied by the old Hessian soldier, Webber, 
 with flowing gray locks, and, after he had ceased from attend- 
 ance on the earthly sanctuary, by Deacon Rice's dog, who, in 
 spite all efi'orts to keep him at home, never failed to attend 
 church and maintained for years possession of the broad stair 
 with great decorum, never disturbing the quiet of the place, 
 unless, if my memory is not at fault, he at first manifested impa- 
 tience at the deep and threatening tones of the bass-viol." 
 
 The week-days at Wiscasset were well filled with 
 study under his father's direction, with the chores that 
 always fall to the lot of a lad living upon a farm, and 
 to a much less extent with the sports which sea-shore 
 boys never find wearisome. From this busy, well 
 guarded home life he went in his thirteenth year to 
 Exeter, N. H., to finish his preparation for college at 
 , Phillips Academy, then, as now, in the foremost rank 
 of fitting schools. Of the privileges he there enjoyed. 
 Professor Packard spoke in grateful acknowledgment 
 and a most pleasant vein of reminiscence at the centen- 
 nial celebration of the institution in 1883. In regard 
 to the use he made of these privileges, the testimony 
 can be cited of his famous classmate, George Bancroft, 
 who writes : " Strong and healthy, sober-minded and 
 industrious, and in his studies very successful, he bore 
 a high character every way ; he was at home on the 
 play-ground as well as at his books." 
 
 The following year, September, 1812, young Pack- 
 ard, having passed his examination in the Greek Testa- 
 ment, Virgil, Cicero, and the four rules of Arithmetic, 
 
became a Freshman in Bowdoin College. The life of 
 the undergraduate then bore on many sides a far differ- 
 ent aspect from that it wears now. He studied and 
 slept in plain, unpainted and uncarpeted rooms, heated 
 only by an open fire ; he ate at " Commons " fare which 
 was the subject of constant complaint ; he attended 
 prayers at sunrise and sunset in a chapel guiltless of 
 register or steam pipe ; he recited in private rooms, save 
 in Senior year, when, for the morning recitation. Pro- 
 fessor Cleaveland's lecture room, with its blazing fire 
 upon the hearth, was sought with eagerness that often 
 resulted in a race between the devotees of science and 
 the seekers for a comfortable seat. For sport, he 
 played foot-ball on the campus, swam in the Andros- 
 coggin, shot pigeons and picked blueberries on the 
 plains, and had his favorite walks to " Consecrated 
 Rock" and " Paradise." 
 
 Of the studies he pursued while an undergraduate, 
 he gives the following account : "* 
 
 " My first recitation was in Sallust which was followed in the 
 Latin department by the odes of Horace. Our Greek, as also 
 during the Sophomore and Junior years, was ' Oraeca Majorat 
 and our mathematics was 'Webber's Arithmetic' Our class was 
 the first to study Hebrew, but without points, ' Willard's Gram- 
 mar,' and the ' Psalter,' thus following the curriculum of Harvard. 
 President Appleton took our class in the Sophomore year for a 
 short time in the satires and epistles of Horace. ' Hedge's Logic' 
 was a Sophomore, and 'Locke on the Human Understanding,' a 
 Junior Study, both committed to a tutor. In the Senior year, 
 Stewart's ''Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind' 
 comprised, with Locke of the year before, our metaphysics, and 
 ' Paley's Evidences ' and ' Butler's Analogy,' our course in Chris- 
 
 *In his College Reminiscences, p. SS, of History of Bowdoin College. 
 
tian evidences, which, under President Appleton, left ineffaceable 
 impressions. We read Forensics before the class, under President 
 Appleton, on subjects suggested by our studies. Enfield's ' Nat- 
 ural Philosophy,' Chemistry, and Mineralogy, were all under 
 charge of Professor Cleaveland. In the Senior year, ' Bui'lama- 
 qui on Natural and Politic Law,' was. a text-book, recited to a 
 tutor." 
 
 This course of study was pursued with his custom- 
 ary faithfuhiess, and he graduated in 1816, deliver- 
 ing at Commencement the Latin Salutatory, a part 
 then assigned to the second scholar of the class. He 
 spent the interval between the conferring of the bach- 
 elor's and the master's degree, in teaching, first as 
 assistant at Gorham Academy, then under the charge 
 of Rev. Reuben Nason ; afterwards at his Wiscasset 
 home; again for a longer period at Bucksport, where 
 he met with marked success, and, still later as 
 principal of Hallowell Academy. From the last posi- 
 tion, occupied for only a few months, he was called to 
 be a tutor at Bowdoin in 1819. During the next five 
 years the most eminent men the college has ever sent 
 forth, enjoyed his instruction. Of its faithfulness and 
 conscientiousness no testimony can be needed after 
 Longfellow's famous tribute. 
 
 In 1824 Mr. Packard was chosen Professor of the 
 Latin and Greek languages. In his inaugural address, 
 on the manner in which the classics should be taught, 
 delivered a few months after his appointment, occurs 
 this sentence : " Like faithful guides, we are to show 
 the pupil the most direct path to knowledge, and be- 
 come the companions of his way, pointing out to him 
 as he advances, whatever may animate and allure, and 
 
6 
 
 leading him to the most favorable points whence he 
 may view all that is grand and beautiful in the exten- 
 sive field of human knowledge." How successfully he 
 carried out this simple, yet comprehensive ideal, they 
 alone can fully realize, who have some knowledge of 
 the traditionary method of classical study, from which 
 Professor Packard broke aloof. His habit was not to 
 dwell upon minute philological and grammatical de- 
 tails, though these were by no means neglected, but to 
 unfold and illustrate the thought of the author. His 
 recitations were also enlivened and enriched by occa- 
 sional lectures carefully prepared to stimulate the stu- 
 dent's appreciation of classical style, and the literary 
 and historical relations of the text. This long profes- 
 sorship of the ancient languages extending to 1865, 
 was varied for three years, 1842-1845, by the addition 
 of the duties of the chair of Rhetoric and Oratory. 
 
 In 1864 Professor Packard was appointed to the 
 Collins Professorship of Natural and Revealed Religion, 
 a chair which he held to the close of his life. For 
 nearly two-thirds of this period the undergraduates 
 continued to enjoy his instruction in the recitation 
 room. Well does the writer remember the eagerness 
 with which the intercourse with him, who had ques- 
 tioned successive classes for half a century, was looked 
 forward to, and the popularity which Paley's Evidences 
 and Butler's Analogy possessed among the Senior 
 studies by reason of the instructor. But the duty 
 connected with this chair, which he performed to the 
 very last, with remarkable felicity, was the conduct of 
 chapel services. From the dedication of the chapel to 
 
the close of his life, his voice was to be heard leading 
 in prayer those there assembled. 
 
 His public efforts for the spiritual growth of the stu- 
 dents, were not confined to these more formal ministra- 
 tions. How much good was accomplished by his con- 
 stant attendance upon the prayer-meetings of the un- 
 dergraduates, and by the helpful thoughts and earnest 
 petitions he there uttered, cannot be known in this 
 world. Still more important and wide-spread, perhaps, 
 was the influence exerted by the Saturday evening 
 lectures, which through his efforts and those of others, 
 were continued for a series of years. In these lectures 
 he presented moral and religious truths in their bearing 
 upon student life and character, with great impressive- 
 ness and fidelity, and with that felicity of illustration 
 and appeal which characterized his preaching. 
 
 Professor Packard's methodical industry enabled 
 him while performing with the utmost faithfulness all 
 college duties, to take a large part of the work in town 
 and parish, which naturally falls to the public spirited 
 citizen and the conscientious Christian. At the annual 
 town meeting, he was an earnest and influential sup- 
 porter of every movement looking to the advancement 
 of the interests of the community. While not like his 
 friend Professor Smyth, a prominent leader in the anti- 
 slavery cause, which for so many years agitated town 
 and state, as well as the nation, he gave to it his sincere 
 sympathy and practical support. The tenaperance 
 movement, from the first, received the aid of his voice 
 and example. It was naturally in the educational 
 work of the community, however, that he was most 
 
prominent. Chosen a member of the school committee 
 in 1831, with a comparative!}^ short interruption in 
 1840 and following years, he continued upon that 
 board till 1870. Most of the printed reports issued 
 during that period, were from his pen. 
 
 It was in the church that Professor Packard's in- 
 fluence made itself still more widely felt. In view of 
 the tribute elsewhere given to his labors in this field, 
 reference need be made here only to his service for 
 quarter of a century, as superintendent of the Sunday 
 School, a position for which his interest in youth as 
 well as in education admirably fitted him. A mem- 
 ber of the school speaks of "his quickness in seeing 
 the face of a new scholar, his interest in the little 
 ones, and the brief story or anecdote gleaned during 
 the week, which he read at the close of the exercises." 
 
 No account of Professor Packard's life, however 
 brief, can omit allusion to his pulpit ministrations. 
 They extended over a period of forty years. His 
 name first occurs in the list of the clergymen of the 
 State in 1844. He was regularly ordained May 16, 
 1850, and preached often during the next two decades. 
 There are few churches of his denomination in the 
 State — that could be reached without unduly pro- 
 longed absence from Brunswick — but have listened 
 with pleasure and profit to his discourses. Nothing 
 could better testify to the esteem in which they held 
 him than his appointment to deliver the commemora- 
 tive address on the occasion of their semi-centennial 
 anniversary, and the discourse then delivered shows 
 by its intimate and extensive knowledge of the life and 
 
9 
 
 work of both pastors and churches the eminent fitness 
 of the selection made. 
 
 Six years after the incorporation of the Maine His- 
 torical Society, Alpheus S. Packard was chosen a 
 member. That membership was an active one. For 
 forty-five years he was librarian and cabinet keeper. 
 Of the eight volumes of collections published by the 
 society, he was a contributor to two, and the joint 
 editor of a third. It was indeed fitting that this 
 society should celebrate the 84th anniversary of his 
 birth in a manner that made the occurrence one of the 
 pleasantest occasions of his long life. In this connec- 
 tion should be mentioned his membership in the Royal 
 Historical Society, the New York Historical Society, 
 and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. 
 
 It was in ihe college library that the later gradu- 
 ates of Bowdoin came to know Professor Packard 
 personally. To many of them it is hard to realize the 
 permanent absence of his familiar form, sitting at his 
 table in the old leather upholstered chair, the story of 
 which he could sometimes be prevailed upon to tell, 
 and of the quick, keen glance he would turn upon 
 each new comer until the latter came near enough for 
 recognition, when this would change into a half smile 
 which lit up wondrously his kindly countenance. The 
 interest he manifested in personal contact with the 
 undergraduates was not inferior to the zeal he showed 
 in assisting their investigations whenever asked. 
 
 It is not the province of this sketch to enter the 
 privacy of Professor Packard's home life. It is, how- 
 ever, well known that few if any family circles were 
 
10 
 
 pleasanter than his. Many a graduate can testify to 
 the warm sympathy as well as generous hospitality 
 which the ladies of his household extended to so many. 
 He married in 1827 Frances E., daughter of President 
 Appleton, who died in 1839, leaving five children: 
 Charles A. (Bowdoin College, 1848), a practicing phy- 
 sician in Bath ; William A. (Bowdoin College, 1851), 
 Professor of Latin and Science of Language in the 
 College of New Jersey, Princeton ; George L. ; Al- 
 pheus S. (Bowdoin College, 1861), Professor of Zool- 
 ogy and Geology in Brown University ; Frances A. 
 He married in 1844 Mrs. C. W. McLellan of Portland, 
 who survives. The only child by this marriage, Robert 
 L. (Bowdoin College, 1868), is connected with the 
 Bureau of Education at Washington. 
 
 On the resignation of General Chamberlain in the 
 summer of 1883, Professor Packard was appointed act- 
 ing President of the college. Relieved of many of the 
 cares and labors of the position by his colleague. Pro- 
 fessor Chapman, who was at the same time made Dean 
 of the Faculty, this last year of his life passed away 
 quietly and pleasantly. The public duties of his 
 office were discharged during Commencement week 
 with his wonted grace and dignity. The following 
 Sunday, July 13, 1884, he died suddenly and almost 
 painlessly of heart disease at Squirrel Island, where he 
 had gone with several members of his family on a 
 pleasure excursion.'* 
 
 * A fuller account of his last days may be found on pages 15 and 32. 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 By gen. J. L, CHAMBERLAIN, LL,D.* 
 
 It lias been tliouglit proper that I should say a few 
 words on this occasion, as one associated with our de- 
 parted friend in every relation of college office, and 
 during the whole period of my active life. 
 
 I had expected others to speak before me, and for 
 you. I am not here to attempt to voice the sorrow of 
 this great assembly ; or to speak of all the varied inter- 
 ests that are touched by this afflictive dispensation. 
 Too little worthy is the little I can say. 
 
 It were fitting surely that the college, which is so 
 largely bereaved, should appear among those who bear 
 testimony, and offer the last tributes of affection. 
 
 This is not, however, the occasion where we can at- 
 tempt to portray his character ; nor bring to view all 
 his varied and efficient service ; nor recount the reasons 
 for our loving him, and carrying the memory of him for- 
 ward into the coming years. This will be done, doubt- 
 less, at a more befitting time, and fitly done. Now it is 
 only for us to utter broken notes ; expressive only of 
 our sudden sorrow, long dreaded and yet hoped against, 
 which reason and understanding have scarcely been 
 sufficient to restrain our loving hearts from putting off 
 as concerning one not subject unto death. 
 
 It is impossible to note, even briefly, such a career, 
 
 *This address was delivered at the public funeral services in the Congrega- 
 tional Church, Brunswiclf, July 15, 1884. 
 
12 
 
 and not remark certain habits of conduct wliicli have 
 become traits of character ; or rather perhaps I should 
 say, certain cherished principles, which have unfolded 
 and expanded into consummate action. If I might use 
 a phrase and a language both learned of him, I would 
 ascribe to him in all its breadth of acceptation, that of 
 the master historian, — " incorrupta fides " / uncorrupted 
 faith ; incorruptible fidelity ; unswerving loyalty. 
 Nothing could move Professor Packard from his con- 
 viction ; nor make him betray or neglect a trust. 
 
 His practical tests of conduct were so sharp as to 
 make his judgments sometimes seem perhaps severe. 
 A characteristic remark I have several times heard him 
 make, when some person of responsible station had 
 committed an act apparently dictated by selfish consid- 
 erations, and which I have sometimes ventured to re- 
 monstrate against as too sweeping ; — too broad an in- 
 duction from too narrow a premise, — comes now, I con- 
 fess, to appear more just, as maturer observation makes 
 clearer the tests of character : " I have no respect for 
 him," Professor Packard would say. It was not nar- 
 row. It was that in the act he reprobated, he saw the 
 decisive test of truth. In such cases the fault was of 
 such nature as to show something wrong at the centre, 
 something corrupt at the fountain of character. 
 
 His loyalty to the college was of a type which be- 
 longs to the heroic days, — '■'■virtute ac fide antiqua." 
 The college was his absorbing thought, — I shall be par- 
 doned if I say, his absorbing earthly love. It was the 
 Jerusalem which he preferred above his chief joy. He 
 could not see how anybody could allow anything to 
 
13 
 
 stand before the college in estimation ; not the highest 
 prizes of life, nor the dearest joys. 
 
 He was not of sanguine temperament. I used 
 sometimes to think he erred in underestimating or un- 
 derstating his case when it concerned himself or the 
 excellences of the college, and have even hinted to him 
 of the frequent strain in his remarks or prayers, which 
 seemed almost to depreciate our means of usefulness. 
 But things achieved seemed to him always little, — the 
 present a narrow place ; his eyes were ever looking for- 
 ward for ampler instrumentalities and larger labors. 
 
 Especially sensitive was he as to his own work in the 
 college in later years. More than once has he put his 
 resignation into our hands, with utmost sincerity and 
 silent sadness. But we well knew that for all his faith- 
 ful service, these days were his best days for us and for 
 him ; that he never was doing the college better service 
 than when he was binding all the graduates together, 
 by the bond of a common recognition of him as the 
 centre of all our happiest memories, and when he went 
 in and out before us in the great influence and example 
 which is the better part of teaching. 
 
 May I not rightly also speak of him here as a gen- 
 tleman, a character inestimable at this day, in the col- 
 lege as in the community ? How truly like him it was 
 — thoughtful always of others more than of himself — 
 when he said with labored breath, and almost his last, 
 " I am sorry to give you this trouble ! " Ah, did he 
 but know it, it is not loving care of him that gave any 
 of us trouble, but it is that we can offer it no longer. 
 
14 
 
 We know not how to do without him in the college 
 or in the town. Well did one say to me yesterday : 
 " The world does not seem the world without Professor 
 Packard." " We thought it had been he which should 
 have redeemed Israel," said the bewildered disciples of 
 the Master withdrawn from their gaze. So we had 
 come almost to think Professor Packard's very pres- 
 ence a pledge of the prosperity and triumph of the col- 
 lege. 
 
 It was significant, too, to see how the little children 
 loved him. They know whom to love. Stern and judi- 
 cial as he might have seemed, there was a patience, a 
 meekness, a charity, which made the larger atmosphere 
 of his life, and spread in his evening sky, an almost 
 unearthly glory. He walked among us with feet al- 
 ready anointed as for his burial, and in his form and 
 face the light as of the coming transfiguration. 
 
 Wonderfully befitting was the consummation. He 
 had fulfilled the largest and the longest service ; he 
 held now the highest honors. How gracefully, with 
 what brightness and self-possession and dignity, he car- 
 ried through the onerous duties and somewhat trying 
 ceremonies which pertain to the presidential office, you 
 all are witnesses. How remarkable the prayer he offered 
 at the close of Commencement ! How happy a thing 
 it was that so many graduates were here ! How beau- 
 tiful his reception of them in the home whence the la- 
 bor of so many years had gone forth for their instruc- 
 tion! Long will linger the benediction of that last 
 good-night, — greeting and parting. A finished course ; 
 
15 
 
 a completed work; a consummate life! Nay, more 
 than this. He had passed the goal, and wore the 
 crown ere yet the race was wholly run. Years usually 
 allotted to Heaven, were vouchsafed to earth ; and we 
 received him as one who was indeed citizen of another 
 country than ours, — an ambassador resident, bringing 
 with him the laws and sanctions of his own country. 
 
 Nothing could be more beautiful and perfect than 
 his going: — seeking enlargement of scene rather than 
 rest, which he scarcely seemed to need ; by the shores 
 near which he was reared, and by the airs and waters 
 of the sea, which drew his long gaze towards the in- 
 visible bounds; surrounded by those whose loving 
 ministries had stayed up his hands in the battle-prayer 
 of life ; and as was befitting on a Sabbath day, we here 
 at home the meantime wondering at the unaccustomed 
 vacant pew, while his kinsman* as if divinely led, 
 preached to us of the Transfigured Body :— and he, 
 having shared and deeply enjoyed the service of the 
 little church where he was, thereupon seemed borne 
 away of angels into the other Sabbath. 
 
 This is not death; there are no broken columns. 
 One sphere of life fulfilled, God took him higher. 
 Walking by the shore of the sea, he walked on ! And 
 we who can go no further with him, weep for that; 
 sorrowing most of all that we shall see his face no 
 more. 
 
 [* Rev. E. N. Packard, ol Dorchester, Mass. The sermou was from the words, 
 (Matt, xvii : 1-2), " And after six days Jesus taketh Peter, James and John Ms 
 brother, and bringeth them up into a high mouutaiu apart, and was transfigured 
 before tliem."] 
 
POEM 
 
 By SAMUEL V. COLE, A.M.* 
 
 I. 
 
 Ah ! but yesterday we saw him there in the familiar place, 
 
 Where he welcomed all as children with his old-time courtly grace; 
 
 But we knew not it was Heaven that was shining on his face. 
 
 II. 
 
 Light was nearer than we thought it, for to-day we come and find 
 He has passed beyond the shadows that had made our eyes so blind ; 
 And his more than fourscore summers are a golden trail behind. 
 
 III. 
 
 Walking by the narrow margin that divides the sea and land 
 Of the Here and the Hereafter, he beheld, upon the strand, 
 Words of One, who, as aforetime, stooped and wrote upon the sand. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Two there were that walked together ; they communed as friend with 
 
 friend. 
 On the mysteries, it may be, only angels comprehend; 
 One, the Christ, wrote with his finger, one, the Christian, read — "The 
 
 End." 
 
 V. 
 
 Silent do his books await him on their shelves in long array; 
 
 But his book of life is ended and is silent now as they. 
 
 And will henceforth stand among them, to be seen and read alway ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 What thou wert, O silent teacher, what thou wert and still thou art, 
 Men inherit and will cherish ; we possess the better part, 
 We, thy pupils, in the fibres of the living brain and heart. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thou art happy ! Thou discerning from the summit of thy years, 
 Long hast seen the promise over rolling mist of doubts and fears. 
 Seen the vision of the future, and thou dost not need our tears. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Sleep ! the peace of God upon thee— sleep ! and let the heavenly signs 
 Drive their worlds in solemn silence, till the world's great morning 
 
 shines, 
 Where thou resteth from thy labors in the hearing of the pines. 
 
 *This poem by a former pupil of Professor Packard, and for several years 
 a fellow instructor in the college, was read at the funeral services by Gen. 
 J. L. Chamberlain. 
 
MEMORIAL SERMON 
 
 By rev. WILLIAM P. FISHER* 
 
 Psalm xxxvji. 37: "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: 
 for the end of that man is peace." 
 
 We are here to-day neither to bury nor to praise,, 
 but to learn. 
 
 One generally esteemed and sincerely loved, is nat- 
 urally spoken of in the language of eulogy ; but the 
 immediate purpose of the present discourse is not to pay 
 a tribute of affection, though that is as well deserved 
 as it is incidentally unavoidable ; the object is rather 
 to set the character before us in its elements of instruc- 
 tion and encouragement. Others can furnish the biog- 
 raphy in its details, or speak of him as a scholar and 
 teacher; my privilege is to give the features of this 
 ripe Christian man as I have known them, beginning 
 from his eightieth year, and looking backward only so 
 far and so much, as the mature results suggest the 
 process and motives by which these ripe qualities have 
 been attained. 
 
 In our knowledge of character we are ordinarily 
 dealing with that which is so immature that we are 
 
 *This ijresentation of the religious character of Professor Packard was 
 delivered in the Congregational Church at Brunswick, July 20, 1884, the Sun- 
 day after his death. Through the agency of his pastor, Mr. Fisher, a beau- 
 tiful memorial window, the gift of numerous pupils and friends of Professor 
 Packard, has recently been placed in the North Transept of the Church where 
 he worshiped so manj- years. 
 
18 
 
 getting only moral suggestions while compelled to draw 
 on our imaginations for the picture of anticipated 
 achievement; but sometimes Providence allows us to 
 verify our observations in the spectacle of a well-rounded 
 life. We may not indeed affirm that they are unfortu- 
 nate who, called hence in the midst of their days, attain 
 full and ripe virtues in a more genial clime ; but we 
 rejoice in a companionship in which we beheld, with our 
 mortal eyes, the mellow richness and the hallowed peace 
 ■of one who at fourscore and five, was still less venerable 
 in years than in holy faith. The principles which are 
 not so attractive in the rawness of youth, or during the 
 struggles and cares of middle life, we value both as a 
 power and a pledge ; but here we see them as fruition, 
 and know them for what they are. Virtues cannot 
 always, cannot perhaps generally, appear among men at 
 their real value; they are unpolished diamonds; they 
 are unripe fruits ; they are muddy with human incon- 
 sistencies ; they are misshapen by circumstances ; they 
 are excessive and violent because of contradiction ; 
 faith itself is exasperated into pugilisan, and love driven 
 into jealousy or sharp rebuke by the deceitfulness of 
 the world. So it comes that we judge the good and 
 goodness harshly and partially; we are deceived into 
 thinking the smaller loyalty, and the easier virtue the 
 more companionable. But give time to the nobler 
 qualities. The steady faithfulness, the unbending prin- 
 ciple, the affirmative faith get their color, their mellow- 
 ness, their flavor ; the same virtues attain and reveal 
 the loveliness that was latent in them. We have seen 
 
19 
 
 and testify that tlie way to a fully attractive manhood 
 is not the way of easy compromise of godliness, but, on 
 the contrary, the consistent adherence to convictions 
 and to obligations, the daily and continued tribute to 
 duty and to God, till He in his own time reveals the 
 beauty of that which he has commanded. The doc- 
 trines of our treasured faith are so prejudiced by the 
 difficulty of their application to the working life and 
 the unformed character, that they are too often hastily 
 dismissed as the formula of a hard process for the pro- 
 duction of a harsh spirit. But that hasty conclusion is 
 visibly corrected when we see these convictions and 
 principles faithfully adhered to and producing their 
 consistent and happy consequences. The Christian in 
 his way through this world requires a vast amount of 
 spiritual backbone and muscle. Their use is followed 
 by more evident sweetness which may become quite 
 patent to us in that margin of years that time borrows 
 of eternity. 
 
 Professor Packard's character was one not difficult 
 to distinguish; it was a straight line. The secret of 
 its power was open. Its material was imperative sin- 
 cerity. He was a stranger to duplicity. When it was 
 forced upon him he recoiled with disgust. He did not 
 readily detect its presence ; but when he became con- 
 vinced of a man's essential insincerity, he was inclined 
 to withdraw into polite reserve. Mentally he was 
 not subtle or even keen. There are no stories of his 
 circumventing mischievous boys by superior sharpness. 
 He took little interest in accurate refinements of 
 
20 
 
 philosopliical and theological thought. He would have 
 made no political manager, no detective, no criminal 
 lawyer. He had no sly methods. No one could find 
 any mysterious corners in his policy. So his sphere 
 was not administration. The unraveling of complicated 
 affairs, the steering a clever course among contending 
 rivals was not his calling. He could be imposed upon. 
 He was not calculated for extensive interests which 
 would invite the interference of the designing or ambi- 
 tious. He was guileless, so innocent of contrivances 
 and maneuvering ambitions that he could hardly believe 
 them when they were before his eyes. Eighty-five 
 years of experience failed to give him an easy famil- 
 iarity with human wiles. At the same time he was 
 habitually wise to avoid iniquity either as its victim or 
 its tool. It is not improbable that he understood more 
 than he chose to acknowledge. But it is still more 
 probable that the simplicity of his right motives made 
 it impracticable for the mischievous to meet him on 
 any common ground of susceptibility to their inclina- 
 tions. His own motives were transparent. He carried 
 about with him an atmosphere of unobtrusive rectitude, 
 which was at once an armor against evil, and a medium 
 of communication with the better qualities and capac- 
 ities of his fellow-men. He established a good under- 
 standing with others, and, apparently without effort, 
 won their assent to his excellent principles and desires. 
 Both in his intentions, and unconsciously, he stood 
 apart from the evil, and in mutual sympathy with the 
 good, not shunning men, so much as communing only 
 
21 
 
 with their better capacities. He commended the good 
 by revealing it to them in a guise transparently 
 attractive. His faculties and occupations did not 
 involve him in the disagreeable duty of thwarting the 
 plans and thereby arousing the anger of men. He was 
 seldom even suspected of decreeing or deciding affairs; 
 for twenty years he has had no voice in college discipline ; 
 his relation to things was such on all sides that people 
 looked upon him with unusual candor. They saw that 
 he was guileless; and this recognized characteristic 
 commanded attention, assent, and reverence. His 
 simplest words were therefore freighted with meaning. 
 The listener reversed the usual process of subtraction 
 and added to their force. The wisdom of experience 
 and spiritual attainment fell unhindered into ears and 
 hearts that were as open and receptive as to the prattle 
 of a child. So his guilelessness secured allegiance and 
 affection and influence with all who were susceptible to 
 its charm. In an emergency of war or fire or flood 
 where irresistible energy was required, we would not 
 have applied to him; in controversy where strenuous 
 oratory was necessary, others, even in his prime, would 
 have taken precedence. His was not the arm to wield 
 the club. He was not calculated for a great popular 
 leader. If there was an element of timidity, his entire 
 sincerity kept him from that resort of timid men — 
 cunning. So it happened that he was, to an unusual 
 degree, free from the accusations of prejudice and from 
 all antipathies and suspicions. Thus in the quiet years 
 and walks where mind and heart mold heart and mind. 
 
22 
 
 his insidious innocence commanded with permanent 
 authority. 
 
 With this simplicity his remarkable courtesy was so 
 identified as to seem only its natural expression. And 
 such was the fact. His manners were nothing external 
 to the man, and could scarcely be called an accomplish- 
 ment. Etiquette was hardly noticeable, not because 
 art concealed art, but because the soul of courtesy 
 employed the familiar conventionalities, not to cover 
 intentions, but as the most convenient expression of 
 good-will. He had tact enough to avoid things 
 unnecessary and disagreeable, and to recognize that 
 which was opportune and pleasing, but his tact stopped 
 there ; courtesy was not a means to an end of propiti- 
 ating people and using them for his own purposes. He 
 never descended to flattery, and was not lavish of 
 praise. His appeal was to self-respect rather than to 
 vanity. And that appeal to self-respect was nothing 
 more than the revelation of the fact that he respected 
 his fellow-man as such. He desired the rights and 
 welfare of men ; he wished to render to all their due ; 
 he sought nothing more from them. He was sometimes 
 punctilious in proprieties, not apparently with any idea 
 of winning favors for himself, but because he was un- 
 willing to give pain or fall short of the full measure of 
 recognition which each deserved. With a great admi- 
 .ration for truly great men, with a full appreciation of 
 refinement, and living in its atmosphere, he carried a 
 delicate sympathy toward every human being into all 
 his intercourse, and his manner was its ingenious ex- 
 
23 
 
 pressioii. Intercourse with him was a liberal education 
 in good manners, not imitable as manner merely, but 
 the fitting expression of genuine regard. His tastes 
 were aristocratic, he took his place naturally among 
 the best, but his heart was republican, he was truly one 
 of the people ; he entered cordially into the welfare of 
 the entire community, especially on its intellectual and 
 religious side ; the plainest people felt that he belonged 
 to them. 
 
 Whoever looked a little deeper would see that he 
 was a Christian gentleman, a gentleman always, but 
 more distinctively a Christian. This holy faith com- 
 manded in his sincere soul and overflowed in his 
 elegant bearing. People believed in his sincerity and 
 delighted in his politeness, but they reverenced him in 
 the totality of his conversation as a good man. This 
 will be found to be the particular impression of him 
 among many who care little for mere refinements or 
 accomplishments; in the neighborhood for miles about 
 he was definitely recognized as a humble disciple of 
 Christ. That name in all these years has been unmis- 
 takably written on his forehead and in his hands, 
 and was evident there, because first of all it was 
 written on his heart. Unobtrusive everywhere, in this 
 there was no mistaking his position; he was unequivo- 
 cally the disciple of the Nazarene. He was a scholar 
 and teacher by occupation; as a man among men we 
 called him a gentleman ; but in the central motive and 
 sacred consciousness for him to live was Christ. 
 Humbly he accepted the redemption not as a right but 
 
24 
 
 as a gift. His supreme loyalty was fixed upon him 
 whom he recognized as Master and Lord. There was 
 his ultimate confidence and affection. As he walked 
 our streets with modesty he was felt to be first of all a 
 'Christian. His gentleness was not wholly a matter of 
 nature, still less the result of prolonged affiictions, 
 pains, misfortunes. What some are willing to learn 
 only under chastisement, he learned from chosen con- 
 verse with him who was holy, harmless, undefiled, 
 separate from sinners. For the peculiar form of work 
 which Providence had allotted to him he had a very 
 high regard; he was industriously faithful to his 
 appointed task and occupied with his profession, a man 
 not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the 
 Lord. But teaching, as merely technical, was some- 
 thing wholly foreign from his way of thought. Without 
 urging himself upon his students, he made it plain 
 enough that he counted it his privilege to train men 
 for the highest character and usefulness, and that 
 with him was synonymous with training in distinctly 
 Christian principles. He rejoiced to see men succeed- 
 ing as scholars, as men of mind and power, but far 
 more rejoiced to see them rising in Christian confidence, 
 consciousness, and endeavor. With characteristic mod- 
 esty he hesitated till he was thirty years of age before 
 making an open confession of his religious faith, not 
 through indifference, but because, being unable to give 
 any distinct statement about the beginnings of his 
 Christian life, he was not sure that his experience was 
 genuine. Firm as was his discipleship there was ever 
 
25 
 
 in it the element of self-distrust; repentance was the 
 habit of his mind. But others have not shared his 
 doubts concerning himself. His course as a Christian 
 has been a steady consistent on-going, the shining light 
 increasing in its brilliancy to the perfect day. 
 
 His ideas of religious truth were serious, his con- 
 ception of duty somewhat severe, but the current of 
 his life trustful and gently cheerful. He held in gen- 
 eral to the old type of religious thought and found 
 little fault with its phraseology. On occasion his utter- 
 ances were quite solemn; but ordinarily the comforting 
 confidence, the practical duty, the kindly feeling, the 
 encouraging promise for the individual and the church, 
 furnished the theme of his religious conversation, and 
 indicated the permanent quality of his contemplation. 
 He was more than contented to take his place in the local 
 church and among the company of disciples. He was 
 not ashamed of this affiliation, or an indifferent partner 
 in its duties and fortunes. He evidently loved the 
 courts of God's praise and the fellowship of his people. 
 As religion was to him life's great business, so the insti- 
 tutions of religion took precedence of human affairs, 
 and the welfare of Christ's church was his paramount 
 concern. Accordingly every friend of the church was 
 his friend, and the foe of the church came as near 
 being his enemy as any one could. Here was a man 
 who not only did not consider himself too fine, or good, 
 or wise to be one in the fellowship of the local church, 
 but showed his constant and unchanging love for it in 
 ways conscious and unconscious, but always unmistak- 
 
26 
 
 able. Great men praised and flattered liini, and he 
 enjoyed their esteem though he did not seem to take 
 praise seidously ; but when he turned to sacred things 
 all honors dropped into nothingness. So he came into 
 God's presence and among his people the humblest of 
 us all. His commanding fidelity to Christ found in the 
 visible church an outward and tangible object. Its 
 every interest was precious to him, and not a word 
 could escape his lips which might prejudice its welfare. 
 When it was in difficulty his anxieties were great, when 
 it was prosperous he rejoiced. As a company of people 
 associated in Christ's name he demanded of it no super- 
 human things. As a channel of divine blessing he 
 desired for it every good. He was the example of sim- 
 ple faithfulness, a representative and leader of the 
 faithful; any one who failed here under his influence 
 sinned against uncommon light. His constant blessing 
 to the church was the singleness of his aim for the pro- 
 motion of its honor and usefulness. That any one 
 should hold any relation thereto of mere personal con- 
 venience was to him an offense; that it could be used 
 for any ulterior ends, personal or partisan, was 
 to him inconceivable. His adherence, plainly one of 
 conviction and duty, was even more plainly one of 
 affection. He brought his interest with him. Thus 
 though he gave so much, he demanded little. With fine 
 tastes and noble standards of living and of thought he 
 was slow to see and slower to mention the defects of 
 this associated relation. The visible church was not 
 more the public expression of duty than the vehicle of 
 
27 
 
 singularly unalloyed and truly childlike pleasure. He 
 who so loved the earthly courts was ripe for the enjoy- 
 ment of larger privileges in the upper sanctuary. 
 
 With this particular church his life was identified. 
 As a boy he was on this spot when the old building 
 which preceded this was in course of construction ; this 
 church is the only one to which he e^ver belonged; yet 
 we claim him in no restricted sense, for his sympathies 
 reached to the wide and catholic communion of the sons 
 of God. Various offices and trusts it has committed to 
 him and never regretted the choice. When it seemed 
 desirable to build the edifice in which we now worship, 
 he subscribed half the year's moderate salary, though 
 at the time supporting and educating his growing 
 family. He was to the last, one of the most generous 
 contributors. Methodically each Lord's day his offer- 
 ing was deposited as he entered the sanctuary. He 
 was uniformly in his place ; he persisted in his attend- 
 ance upon the mid-week evening meeting (more than a 
 half-mile from his house) till, well past eighty, the duty 
 was urged upon him of remaining at home. The phys- 
 ical reasons for this demand are now sadly familiar. 
 He was generally present at our Sunday evening 
 service nearer his house, even in his last year, and 
 always a worshiper in the morning service, his voice 
 distinct whenever there was an opportunity to join 
 vocally. No one knew Professor Packard really who 
 had not seen him in the social Christian meeting. 
 There the variety and freshness of his thought was 
 striking. Whatever theme was suggested he was ready, 
 
28 
 
 rising from liis seat near the desk, to present it in some 
 instructive and profitable manner, bringing from liis 
 treasures things new as well as old. His prayers were 
 an inspiration and delight. He lived a life of prayer, 
 officiating at morning prayers in the college, with 
 prayer in the family twice a day, and occasional prayer 
 in the church and elsewhere, and I know not what 
 habit of secret prayer — this was his atmosphere. Nor 
 was it prayer that had degenerated into mere form, a 
 repetition of order and phrases that had become stereo- 
 typed; it was living prayer, humble, devout, and 
 earnest, the voice of a constant walking with God. 
 At the first communion season which I enjoyed here 
 his prayer made a great impression upon me by its 
 whole spirit as well as the facility and felicity of accu- 
 rate scripture quotation, not studied for the purpose, 
 the spontaneous offering of heaven's own manna. 
 Afterward he seemed to lose in part his command of 
 these stores of Bible language. But the Lord's table 
 continued to be the scene where most clearly appeared 
 his intimate heavenly communion. Only three weeks 
 ago as he sought the divine blessing, praying for God's 
 peace among us, he suggested the ancient tradition of 
 the beloved disciple in his old age, saying "Little chil- 
 dren love one another." More than one silently asked, 
 in that precious hour, how long we might enjoy his 
 ministration before he should be called to a higher 
 fellowship. . . 
 
 As a Christian preacher Doctor Packard was much 
 esteemed. It is said, that like other men and even 
 
29 
 
 other college professors, he saw the time when he was 
 not fully appreciated. But it happened that the supply 
 of the pulpit fell to him during a prolonged absence of 
 the pastor of this church. He prepared discourses so 
 interesting and helpful and so pleasing in their struct- 
 ure and expression, that the students as well as the 
 public attached a new value to his abilities and accom- 
 plishments. His writing was careful and graceful, 
 adorned from his familiarity with the best authors of 
 the ancient and modern world, illustrated with happy 
 references to the instructive acts of eminent men in his 
 own acquaintance or in recorded history. But the use 
 of this material was held in proper subordination. 
 His preaching was truly scriptural in its spirit and 
 expression, kindly in admonition and wholesome in 
 encouragement. In the last years he has preached sel- 
 dom because, furnishing no new sermons, and unwilling 
 to repeat the old ones, it has seemed cruel to urge him 
 contrary to his decided preferences. He was formally 
 ordained to the work of the ministry in 1850, and for 
 thirty years frequently fulfilled its offices with charac- 
 teristic propriety, care, and spiritual appreciation in 
 this and neighboring churches, welcome alike in city, 
 village, and country. 
 
 To speak of this teacher and preacher as parishioner, 
 is to speak from feelings of personal affection. What 
 constancy of support, what unquestionable loyalty, 
 what forbearance, what reasonableness both in silence 
 and encouragement I These might be expected indeed 
 of him for they are expressive of his entire spirit and 
 
30 
 
 attitude. Such a relation enriches any one who may 
 enjoy it and continues a cherished memory when its 
 substance exists no longer. One man of that kind in 
 the pew is verily a pillar of conscious strength to the 
 pastor who knows that he can surely count upon the 
 whole force of his weighty influence. Such a man is a 
 leaven in the whole church. His constant presence is 
 the visible pledge of safety. Not only may his influ- 
 ence be counted upon to restrain folly, but it recom- 
 mends, teaches, and communicates faithfulness. That 
 such a man can be satisfied with all departments and 
 phases of the church work (or want of work), it is 
 unreasonable to suppose. But silence and charity 
 cover a multitude of defects. Every servant of the 
 church and all its membership might assume from him 
 the forbearance of a father. 
 
 Sometimes he gave the impression of being not very 
 confident or buoyant in his hopes for the church and the 
 world. It would not do to assert that he was a fountain 
 of contagious courage and enthusiasm ; that is just what 
 he was not. Despondent views would be liable to gain 
 too quick a response; he was rather susceptible to 
 discouraging representations. Nevertheless he has ap- 
 peared in these years rather as a Christian optimist. 
 It was sometimes surprising (taking into account his 
 years and all the influences), it was surprising to see 
 how his thought, when following its own course, would 
 rise in the direction and spirit of promise. This was 
 probably because he kept in such close contact with the 
 living world, the company of the young in their gener- 
 
31 
 
 ations and classes. He loved the memories of the old 
 days. He reveled in mystical lore, the quaint old associa- 
 tions of place, the interesting narrative of persons. But 
 he did not worship these memories or disbelieve in the 
 present. He saw, to some extent, the changes of 
 thought and the enemies of faith, yet loved to portray 
 wherein he considered the world of to-day substantially 
 better than that of his youth. He could remember the 
 early years of the century before the morals of the 
 country had recovered from the effects of the revolu- 
 tionary war, before religion had rallied from the influ- 
 ence of the French philosophy, before the character of 
 the commonwealth had come to its best estate, before 
 revivals of earnest piety had given that tone in the 
 churches and homes which devout people of ripe years 
 look back upon with so much regard. But his vision 
 swept a larger circle, while he viewed the present 
 through the favorable atmosphere of a green old age. 
 So he was careful not to be an obstructive. He did not 
 mean to have any old fancy interfere with practical 
 usefulness. No devotee of a mere old fashion received 
 any encouragement from him in opposing the wishes or 
 denying the demands of living and active piety. He 
 was wonderfully ready for new methods and cordial 
 toward fresh endeavor. 
 
 This sympathy with living men was a secret at once 
 of his pleasure, his popularity, and his influence. He 
 refused amiably to be an old man. How bright and 
 graceful he was in a company, and how evidently he 
 enjoyed meeting old and young we all know. He was 
 
32 
 
 not witty, he was not exceptionally humorous, he was 
 not fluent, he was not familiar ; yet how gladly he 
 entered into intimate social converse, and his cheek 
 glowed, and his eye sparkled, as story and laughter 
 alternated with the evidences of friendship and sympa- 
 thetic interest. He was alive to the last day and last 
 hour. With July began the college examinations ; he 
 was there and at all the most important exercises of the 
 closing term. On Commencement day he presided at 
 the graduation and at the alumni dinner, and in the 
 evening at his house received, standing, the many who 
 gathered about him. On Fridaj^ he attended the meet- 
 ing of the Historical Society and spent the afternoon 
 in driving. On Saturday he went to Boothbay Harbor, 
 and because of the wreck of the steamboat in the fog, 
 returned to Squirrel Island, to remain till Monday. 
 Here in an air as serene and bright as his old age, where 
 fortunate isles lie one beyond another out toward the 
 mystery of boundless ocean, he was found on the Lord's 
 day in the Lord's worship, with significant nearness to 
 the sacred desk. His last public act was consistent 
 with his life's affection for God's house above all 
 institutions of the earthly state.* Then he went out 
 under that beautiful sky, and lay down, and in a little 
 was at rest. Farther out to more fortunate islands, 
 to a realm wider, more mysterious and unknown, to 
 nobler and more glad companionships, and a still more 
 
 * Singularly his friend and companion, the Rev. S. G. Brown, D.D., ex- 
 President of Hamilton College and Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy 
 at Bowdoin, who conducted the service that Sabbath, died with similar sud- 
 denness and from similar cause a little more than a year later. 
 
33 
 
 unsullied life, to ethereal and transparent being, a holier 
 Sabbath rest, a finer air and " sacred, high, eternal 
 noon," his Master called him — and he was ready. 
 
 The lessons which are so evident in the statement 
 of such a character, need only to be mentioned. While 
 we feel his loss to be irreparable, he still demands of us 
 that we remember him at his real value. Affection for 
 that holy conversation must not give place to mere 
 boasting of his refined taste, his gracious presence, and 
 old-time courtesy. Merely to imitate him as a fine man 
 in society, is to do him injustice, to misinterpret the 
 meaning of his character and trample m the mire the 
 pearls of his spiritual influence. We must hold in 
 heaven's clear light the picture of his guileless integ- 
 rity, his simple trust, his loyalty and love toward all 
 upon which Christ's name was written. We must 
 reproduce the motive and inspiration of such a char- 
 acter as a permanent power in our lives. Why should 
 not every man that walks these streets be also, accord- 
 ing to the measure of his abilities and opportunity, a 
 blessing and an honor ? 
 
 Long -continued industry, patient faithfulness in 
 every trust, uniform and hearty kindness, simple 
 Christian discipleship command universal approval — a 
 multitude of competent judges unite in saying "he 
 was a good man." Let us be attentive to that influ- 
 ence. The voice of that wise temperance, the com- 
 muning of his daily prayer is ours no more. We 
 cannot depend upon him to speak wisdom to us ; that 
 wisdom must dwell in our own hearts, that love to 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 Christ, Ms people and his church must control our lives 
 and cement our union. Who in this solemn hour will 
 dare to choose a smaller fidelity ? Who will rise to the 
 devotion which counts nothing too precious for the 
 honor of the Redeemer and the furtherance of his 
 ■earthly rule? Who are they whose lives henceforth 
 shall be so faithfully ordered, so genuinely consecrated, 
 so adorned with Christian virtues in the enlarging 
 years that if those years be visible to human eyes, the 
 human mind shall articulate the divine judgment — 
 "well done, good and faithful servant? " Who of you 
 from this day forward has in Christian choice and in 
 Christian faith and affection, the essence and the power 
 of lofty attainments, so that whether you live or die it 
 shall be unquestionable that you are the Lord's ? The 
 command comes to take to your hearts and hands those 
 responsibilities which the fathers are laying down. 
 God's call to them to cease from their stewardship is at 
 the same time the command to zealously fulfill yours. 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 By professor HENRY L. CHAPMAN.' 
 
 A year ago, when, at the opening of a new college 
 year, we were gathered for the first time in these seats, 
 you receiyed the welcome of the college from one who 
 gave to that welcome an added value because he ut- 
 tered it. Many of you doubtless remember the eager 
 interest and the hopeful spirit with which Dr. Packard 
 spoke on that occasion, as he told us of the new illus- 
 trations which the preceding Commencement had fur- 
 nished him of the profound and far-reaching influence 
 of college associations. That which fell from his lips 
 had, then, as always, the charm of his own kindliness, 
 and the weight of his revered character. 
 
 Fitly, also, could he speak for the college, who had 
 given to it a long life-time of loving and loyal service. 
 Student and teacher the college was his home for sixty- 
 nine years, within one year as long as the time usually 
 allotted to human life. He served it gladly with his 
 best powers ; he honored it always in his thoughts, his 
 purposes, and his acts ; it was enshrined in his deepest 
 affections; it was never forgotten in his prayers. 
 Whatever assailed its good name, or threatened its 
 prosperity, touched him as quickly and as keenly as if 
 
 * These remarks by Professor Chapman, Dean of the Faculty, vrere made to 
 the undergraduates, at Chapel Exercises, September 16, 18S4. Morning prayers 
 were regularly conducted by Professor Packard for more than a quarter of a 
 century, and he frequently officiated during other portions of his long connec- 
 tion with the college. 
 
36 
 
 it were aimed at himself, or at those who were dearest 
 to him. Whatever added to its renown or promised to 
 increase its usefulness was to him a source of evident 
 and inexpressible satisfaction. 
 
 Class after class entered these doors, drew nearer, 
 year by year, to the voice of his supplication until they 
 sat in his immediate presence, and then, with their 
 hearts and their voices full of the melody of "Auld 
 Lang Syne," went slowly down the aisle and out into 
 the world, carrying with them the memory of a beauti- 
 ful and benignant presence that ministered at this desk, 
 and carrying with them also the priceless treasure of 
 his sincere and affectionate interest in their welfare. 
 
 And so it was that in every quarter of the globe 
 men were to be found doing, according to their ability, 
 the various work of the world, whose eyes would kindle 
 and whose hearts would beat quicker at the mention of 
 his name. They came back, when it was possible, more 
 gladly to the annual Commencement of the college 
 because they expected to meet once more their beloved 
 friend and teacher; and they were always sure to 
 receive from him a glad and affectionate greeting. For 
 many years it was a matter of pride and pleasure to 
 him that he knew every living graduate of the college, 
 and they, with an ever-increasing cordiality and enthu- 
 siasm gave him the reverence and love which were his 
 
 due. 
 
 The secret of his beautiful and useful life is not 
 hard to find. Indeed it is not a secret, for it was clear 
 to all who knew him. It was his modest and scru- 
 pulous fidelity to every duty and trust, however small ; 
 
37 
 
 he belonged to those accepted ones whose title to 
 reward contains the shining words " faithful in that 
 which is least." It was his kindly but unbending 
 integrity in all things. It was his genuine and unob- 
 trusive piety which made him anxious above all things 
 to do the will of his Father in heaven. These quali- 
 ties, joined with that courteous and genial spirit that 
 always distinguished him, gave a strength and a sym- 
 metry to his character, and a beauty and dignity to his 
 countenance, which made it a pleasure to look at him, 
 and an unspeakable privilege to know him. 
 
 Scarcely had our late Commencement passed, and 
 those who had participated in its pleasures gone to their 
 homes, when, without warning and almost without pain, 
 this faithful and beloved head of the college was called 
 to enter into his rest. The bereavement was sudden 
 and sad, but it may give us a feeling of thankfulness, 
 even in our bereavement, to remember that he was 
 spared the weakness and pain of lingering disease ; 
 that he died in the full enjoyment of his powers ; and 
 that his last conscious look was into the faces of loving 
 friends. Nor should it be forgotten, for it was a source 
 of the deepest pleasure to him, that during the preced- 
 ing week he had received such manifold and eager 
 tokens of respect and love from so many of his former 
 pupils. It almost seems as if they had come up to the 
 college in such numbers in order to pour the fragrant 
 tribute of their love upon his head against the day of 
 his burial. 
 
 And while we recount the things to be grateful for 
 in connection with his death, this, certainly, should be 
 
38 
 
 among tliem, that his last year was in some respects one 
 of peculiar pleasure and satisfaction to him. Never 
 before, he said, during an acquaintance of more than 
 seventy years with the college, had he known a year so 
 free from the unfavorable influences and disorders that 
 too often bring reproach upon college life, and had 
 often in previous years been a burden of anxiety and 
 sorrow to himself. Both in public and in private he 
 spoke of the pleasure he had received from this fact, 
 and from the promise it afforded for the years to come. 
 It was a pleasure of his declining days that only the 
 students of the college could give him, and it is a 
 grateful privilege to mention it in this presence. 
 
 The college can no longer speak through his lips, 
 but it would not therefore fail to bid you welcome once 
 more to these walks and halls, — ^both those of you who 
 return to scenes that have already become familiar, 
 and to old friends, and those who come among us as 
 strangers to be hereafter friends. It is a welcome 
 to hard study and honest attainment ; a welcome to 
 friendly rivalry in the recitation room, in the field, and 
 on the river ; a welcome to the opportunities for mental 
 and moral growth which a college life so abundantly 
 affords ; a welcome to the good-fellowship and cordial 
 friendships which give a charm to the passing years, 
 and remain a treasured possession through all the years 
 to come. It is a welcome that carries with it the 
 charge to be faithful and quit you like men, that the 
 year opening before you may be full of the most satis- 
 fying happiness, and fruitful of large attainments in 
 both knowledge and wisdom. 
 
TRIBUTE 
 
 FROM THE UNDERGRADUATES.* 
 
 Extracts from the Bowdoin Orient of Jtily i6 and October i, 1S84. 
 
 The few students who remained in Brunswick over 
 Sunday were inexpressibly shocked, on that afternoon, 
 to learn of the sudden death of our most beloved Pro- 
 fessor, Alpheus S. Packard. To those who saw him 
 preside at the exercises of Commencement with his 
 wonted grace and energy, his firm step and sparkling 
 eye, his happy vein of humor as he introduced the 
 speakers at alumni dinner, all seemed to promise a long 
 extension of a life already beautifully rounded and 
 complete in all its parts. Connected with the college 
 as a teacher for sixty-five years, ever found in perfect 
 health at the post of duty, his name had become so inti- 
 mately associated with that of the college, and so widely 
 known in connection with it, that it seemed as if he 
 himself had become a part of the old institution he 
 loved so well. In his loss we feel as if half the college 
 had been taken from us,— the only remaining link 
 which bound us to the past. Around his head clus- 
 tered all the associations and memories of an unusually 
 long life spent in truly fihal devotion to his Alma 
 Mater. The most picturesque figure connected with 
 
 * As Professor Packard's death occurred in vacation time, no formal action 
 was taken by the undergraduates as a body. It has therefore been thought 
 fitting to include in the memorial these three exteacts from the periodical 
 conducted by the students. 
 
40 
 
 the college, it was his fortune to see every class that 
 Bowdoin has nurtured. The old graduates who have 
 come to Commencement from remote parts of the 
 country, looking forward with such pleasant anticipa- 
 tion to a sure recognition- and friendly greeting from 
 Professor Packard, will indeed miss his kindly presence. 
 It is allotted to all men once to die, but to some, 
 favored beyond the common lot, death comes in a pecu- 
 liarly appropriate time and manner. So it was with 
 him. In the fullness of his age and honors, after suc- 
 cessfully conducting one of the most brilliant Com- 
 mencements Bowdoin ever saw — a Commencement 
 abounding in tributes of affection and respect from 
 former pupils, — without a long and painful confinement 
 to a bed of sickness, but quietly, peacefully, and sud- 
 denly he was taken away. With his death Bowdoin 
 loses one of her staunchest supports and every student 
 a true friend. 
 
 Upon the pen whose duty is to chronicle the events 
 which transpire from one number of the Bowdoin Ori- 
 ent to another, rests the expression of our sorrow, that 
 as we return to " these familiar scenes — these groves of 
 pine," we no longer behold the face of him who had 
 become to most of us the soul of Bowdoin. Elsewhere 
 in this paper will be found a fitting tribute to his mem- 
 ory,* but a record of college life would be incomplete 
 did it not make some reference to the great loss which 
 each of us personally has sustained, since last the Ori- 
 
 * The reference is to the address by Professor Chapman which precedes. 
 
41 
 
 ent and its readers talked together, in the death of him 
 who though dead, still lives in the hearts of all who 
 have passed beneath the sunlight of his smile, and the 
 beauty that radiated from his manly character. In the 
 death of Professor Packard, Bowdoin has lost the last 
 of that illustrious company of men who made her rep- 
 utation world-wide, and we who still remain beneath 
 her fostering care — we have lost our friend. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Like to the anthem of a master mind 
 Made vocal through the organ's metal throats, 
 Where sweetly winning and strong-sounding notes 
 
 Are all in perfect harmony combined; 
 
 And seem a wave of beauty undefined, 
 Which sinking into silence leaves the heart 
 Of him who listens moved in every part 
 
 With strange emotions which it leaves behind; 
 
 And lingers like an echo in the breast, 
 When long the notes have ceased to breathe in sound; 
 
 A sense of something beautiful and best, 
 Like unseen incense breathing all around. 
 
 Was that pure life which went away to rest 
 With days completed and with labors crowned. 
 
 E. C. Pltjmmbe, '87. 
 
COMMEMORATIVE ADDRESS 
 
 By prof. EGBERT C. SMYTH, D.D.* 
 
 From the rock by the sea, on which our revered 
 teacher and friend sat for a moment ere his mortal 
 strength failed, a monument is rising of stones depos- 
 ited one by one, in token of esteem, by residents and 
 visitors as they pass. The only adequate commemora- 
 tion of Professor Packard's service here would be for 
 the thousands of his pupils each to testify what he 
 received. How gladly would each of us bring his 
 offering ! He had known personally (with possibly 
 one or two exceptions) every graduate of the college, 
 and never seemed to forget any one. He united us all 
 as he had blessed us all. He became a visible embodi- 
 ment of the college, a living representative of what it 
 has stood for during the century. It was as natural to 
 expect to meet him here as to see the chapel spires, or 
 Massachusetts Hall, or the Thorndike oak. 
 
 This is the first Commencement within the mem- 
 ory of the oldest of us which has lacked the cheer of 
 his sunny and benignant presence. We cannot let it 
 pass without acknowledging our common loss, without 
 uttering our gratitude. The occasion is its own elo- 
 
 *TMs address was delivered by Professor Egbert C. Smyth, D.D., of 
 Andover, Mass., before the Alumni Association of Bowdoin College, 24 June, 
 1885. In accordance with a request made at that time it has been separately 
 printed in pamphlet form. 
 
43 
 
 quence. Otherwise I miglit shrink from speaking to 
 you. His virtues have been celebrated far and wide. 
 Even while he was with us the muse of Longfellow 
 immortalized his "faithful service." 
 
 ''Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori." 
 
 Since his departure, the public press, yonder pulpit, 
 representatives of associations of alumni in our leading 
 northern cities, have paid just and glowing tributes to 
 his memory. The air is still vibrant with these notes 
 of praise. His character was transparent. You all 
 knew him and understood him. There are no traits to 
 be revealed. Nor has he left any record of the events 
 of his life. Fond of making notes upon matters of in- 
 terest, he pencilled not a syllable about himself. His 
 memory was tenacious of incident and stored with rich 
 and varied reminiscences, which he was repeatedly 
 urged to commit to writing; but to no avail. Once, 
 when thus requested, he referred to his address upon 
 " Our Alma Mater," and to his sketches in the college 
 " History," as a sufficient compliance. It did not occur 
 to him that something was wanted about himself. So, 
 when the Historical Society commemorated his eighty- 
 fourth birthday, he appeared to think that the number 
 of his years was the object, as well as the occasion, of 
 the celebration, and in response to greeting and eulogy 
 discoursed upon old age. I can bring to you, therefore, 
 no treasure from his private records, precious as this 
 might be. And yet is not this just what you ex- 
 pected? He lived in and for the college. He had no 
 thought for self. He has his reward. The college is 
 
44 
 
 Ms eulogy. You, its sons, come here to do him honor. 
 And so I hesitate not to talk to you about him, though 
 you know in advance much that I shall say. The 
 memory of those we honor and love is an exhaustless 
 fountain. True words about them never tire. The 
 lightest touch is enough where the chord is electric. 
 
 The Germans have a happy saying that a man can- 
 not be too careful in the selection of his parents. 
 Our Professor was well born. I recall with pleasure 
 the venerable form, the strong, benevolent countenance 
 of his father. He took much notice of children. His 
 military history gave him a peculiar glory in a boy's 
 eye. When a lad of thirteen, he heard, while hoeing 
 corn in a field in North Bridgewater, the roaring of 
 the cannon on Bunker Hill. He was too young to 
 enter the ranks. But a militia captain, knowing that 
 he could play the fife, appointed him fifer in his com- 
 pany. There seems to be a half-veiled prophecy in the 
 facts that his regiment was first stationed at Cambridge, 
 and drew its provisions from College Hall. Taking 
 tea with a friend sixty years later and walking in the 
 garden, he recognized the spot as the site of his first 
 camp. His engagement expired in five months, during 
 which he was ordered to Bunker Hill, Castle Wil- 
 liam (Fort Independence), New York (near Hurlgate), 
 Harlem Heights. The physical strain was too severe, 
 and health and even life seemed likely to be the 
 sacrifice. The picturesque and pathetic story of the 
 return to his home of " the poor, destitute, and suffer- 
 ing" fifer-boy I may not now recite, but this allusion 
 
45 
 
 to it will suffice to suggest the perseverance and capac- 
 ity for unselfish devotion to high ends involved in the 
 fact that after this painful experience he again joined 
 the army under a regular enlistment. The wounding 
 in service of an elder brother, and the death of his 
 father, seem to have brought him back to the farm, 
 where his own energies and those of the rest of the 
 family were now devoted to sending the disabled sol- 
 dier to college. He did not aspire to such privileges 
 for himself, but an injury, accidental as men say, laid 
 him aside from physical labor, turned his thoughts, and 
 finally his steps to Harvard, where, after graduation 
 and a year of teaching school, he served either as 
 Assistant Librarian or Tutor of Mathematics five years, 
 when he was ordained to the ministry and installed as 
 pastor of the church in Chelmsford, Mass. In Septem- 
 ber, 1802, the same year and month in which the first 
 President and Professor were inaugurated and Bow- 
 doin College was oj)ened to students, Mr. Packard 
 came to Wiscasset. For twenty-four years in succes- 
 sion he was present here at every Commencement, be- 
 ginning with the first, and during most of this time 
 was an active and influential member either of the 
 Board of Overseers, or of Trustees, and was usually 
 present at the annual examinations. His son testifies 
 that "from the day of his admission to the Univer- 
 sity to the close of his life, he was a college man." 
 While pastor at Chelmsford and Wiscasset he was also 
 a teacher of youth. For years he was the principal of 
 the academy in the latter town while also pastor of the 
 
46 
 
 Congregational chureli. When he relinquished the 
 charge of the academy — leaving it well organized and 
 in successful operation — he continued to receive pu- 
 pils to his home, sending in one year six to college. 
 He was a man of utmost conscientiousness," indefatigable 
 in labors, a rigid disciplinarian, but kind, affectionate, 
 and devoted to the moral improvement of his scholars, 
 systematic and faithful in the discharge of all public 
 duties, sincere and earnest in his Christian life, an im- 
 pressive preacher, a trusted pastor, a citizen always 
 ready to make sacrifices for the public good, a devoted 
 patriot. 
 
 The mother of Professor Packard was a daughter 
 of the Reverend Alpheus Spring of Kittery, now Eliot, 
 Maine. She carried to her home in Chelmsford and 
 thence to Wiscasset, the impressions and tastes received 
 and cultivated in the society of a Stevens and Buck- 
 minster. Six of her sons entered Bowdoin College. 
 One, a young man of promise, died in his Junior year. 
 The others graduated and rose to distinction in their 
 professions, and the children's children are still main- 
 taining the honorable traditions of their ancestry. I 
 never knew the mother (she died in 1828), but I have 
 supposed that her eldest child, our Professor, named 
 for her father, derived from her much of the peculiar 
 delicacy and grace of his mind, his fondness for good 
 literature, his susceptibility to the finest culture. While 
 she turned her spinning wheel in her rural home by 
 the Sheepscot, and wove garments for her household, 
 Pope's translation of the Odyssey was spread open at 
 
47 
 
 one end of the machine so that, as she paced to and fro, 
 a Ime could be caught at each return. Her memory 
 was stored with facts of history and passages from her 
 favorite authors which, repeated by her, were the de- 
 light of her children ; and often, while too busy herself 
 with domestic cares to turn a page or glance at a book, 
 some one of the family under her untiring encourage- 
 ment and skillful direction would read aloud for the 
 benefit of all. These mothers of men — of sons who 
 rise up to call them blessed wheraver letters and science 
 have blossomed in our land — how like the thick-set 
 stars in our nightly skies they shine upon us whenever 
 our eyes are opened to discern the influences that have 
 made our nation great and strong. 
 
 Besides these formative powers of parents and home 
 must be noticed those of scenery and community and 
 history. 
 
 The father, soon after his removal to Wiscasset, 
 purchased a small farm about a quarter of a mile south- 
 west of the village. The house stood ajittle below 
 the crest of the hill, under a sheltering rock. In every 
 other direction the rich and well-tilled fields sloped 
 gracefully sunward. At the foot, on the east, were the 
 beautiful harbor, and the graceful lines of Birch-point, 
 then fringed with forest trees, and adorned by the 
 hospitable mansion of Judge Lee. Beyond, over the 
 waters and the bold headlands, were the stately hills 
 of Edgecomb, and south and west and north, farm- 
 lands, and forests, and ranges of upland, and the 
 cheerful village with church and court-house and 
 
48 
 
 pleasant homes and the broad street running down to 
 wharves frequented by ships from every mart. Wis- 
 casset was then, as I believe it is still, the shire town. 
 Webster and Jeremiah Mason argued in its court-house. 
 It was the most important town east of Portland. Its 
 society embraced not a few families of superior intelli- 
 gence and polished manners. Its commercial relations 
 gave variety to its industries, and wide outlooks to its 
 sons. The village bell rang out on the national holiday, 
 and the guns of the old block house made fitting re- 
 sponse ; but other festivals, too, were honored, as the 
 ships of various nations saluted with flags and cheers 
 and rounds of ammunition their own days of patriotic 
 observance. No one, I think, of " the old Faculty," as 
 it is often designated, did so much as Professor Packard 
 to promote historical studies. He was well versed not 
 only in ancient but also in modern history, particularly 
 in the details of European affairs which have influenced 
 the growth of this country. He had a fondness for 
 narrative, for incident and anecdote, for individuality 
 in character. The genesis of these traits may be found 
 in part in the conditions of his early life. Wiscasset 
 is in the heart of a region which can hardly have a 
 superior in this country as respects its appeals to the 
 historic imagination, and its reflection in minor occur- 
 rences of the great movements and events in the prog- 
 ress of civilization. Here can be traced the succes- 
 sions of barbaric tribes, the collision and supplanting of 
 nations, the beginnings of colonization, the advance to 
 ordered society, the growth of towns and cities, the 
 
49 
 
 changes of dynasties and forms of government, tlie 
 development of arts and sciences and the institutions 
 of education and religion. As a border land, long in 
 dispute between France and England and coveted by 
 other powers, its history reminds us of that of the 
 marches of England and Scotland, the scenes of thrill- 
 ing personal adventures, of fierce collisions and battles. 
 Again and again has the tide of carnage crimsoned its 
 streams. What tales of courage and heroism, of mid- 
 night surprise and boldest adventure are associated 
 with its hills and promontories, and interwoven with the 
 innumerable windings in and out of passes and channels 
 from Merry-meeting bay to the waters of the Sheepscot 
 and the Damariscotta. Is not Wiscasset in the domin- 
 ions of the Basheba of the brave Wawennocks, whose 
 subject sagamores commanded, some a thousand, some 
 fifteen hundred bowmen? Were not they the con- 
 querors of earlier possessors, and themselves in turn 
 overcome by the yet more savage Taranti? Nowhere 
 more than in this region is the imagination haunted by 
 suggestions of a remote antiquity, great populations, 
 successions of dusky warriors. And as the dawn of 
 authentic history rises, what dim yet stirring visions 
 break upon us from Monhegan to Sagadahoc? Now 
 Frenchmen and Englishmen join in mortal conflict, now 
 pirates free as the winds that fill their sails coast the 
 shores and swoop down upon their prey, now advent- 
 urers eager for discovery and gain come with pinaace 
 and barque and cross. Settlements rise, flourish, and 
 disappear. The bravest and boldest press in from all 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 commercial nations. The settlers exceed the Indians 
 in cunning and endurance. I see at last along these 
 flowing rivers, on island and peninsula, on intervale 
 and fruitful hill-side and scattered clearings in the 
 almost unbroken forest, in growing towns by rapids 
 and cataracts and at the harbors, a peaceful commu- 
 nity, under law and free, whose origin and training, 
 whose lineage and blood remind me not only of the_ 
 Puritan history or of the Covenanters of Scotland, but 
 of whatever in the collisions of modern nations has 
 borne the stamp of power and been famous for persist- 
 ence and inastery. It was almost an education in 
 great historic forces to be born in one of these sea-board 
 and river counties of the District of Maine in the 
 beginning of this century. It has been no accident 
 that no college in the land has had a roll of alumni, 
 in the ratio of numbers, superior to Bowdoin in force 
 and brains. If it had a remarkable Faculty it had, 
 and could not help having, out of such a population, 
 a remarkable body of students. 
 
 Thanks to the Historical Society, in whose labors 
 Professor Packard was so active and efficient, the dim 
 traditions and the isolated romantic legends and scat- 
 tered facts of this early history are coming to light, and 
 are acquiring their due significance. When our Professor 
 was a boy in Wiscasset, much now understood was little 
 known. But men were there whose memories were 
 stored with whatever is most thrilling and stimulating 
 in these annals. The Indian wars were not far away. 
 The events of the Revolution were near. The war of 
 
51 
 
 1812 was coming, and when it came was felt in every 
 home. His father's parish embraced representatives of 
 the best influences and forces at work in the land^ It 
 was itself a school in history. 
 
 A careful observer will notice in the buds of trees 
 the tints and colors which are the glory of the foliage 
 of autumn. " Alpheus," writes his father of him at ten 
 years of age (I quote from memory), " is so interested 
 in his Latin and Greek, and I find so many little serv- 
 ices for him to perform, that he does not play more 
 than half an hour a week. He rarely asks for any in- 
 dulgence." About two years later, upon assurance of 
 one of the scholarships founded by John Phillips, he 
 entered Exeter Academy. Jared Sparks and John Gor- 
 ham Palfrey were "fellow foundationers." George 
 Bancroft was also a member of the school. Nathan 
 Lord was an assistant teacher. Jeremiah Mason and 
 Daniel Webster were then Portsmouth lawyers, and 
 "the towering stature of the one, and the tall, some- 
 what spare form of the other, together with his dark 
 brow and eye and his raven-black hair," left, as he tells 
 us, an indelible impression upon him. In 1812, at 
 the age of fourteen, he entered college, having read in 
 Greek not only the required portions of the New Tes- 
 tament, but the Grraeca Minora. Graduating in due 
 course, he delivered at Commencement the salutatory 
 oration. Three years later he and his friend Tenney, 
 afterwards Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of 
 Maine, delivered the two Masters' Orations. Then 
 began the well-known, ever faithful, and devoted serv- 
 
52 
 
 ice of the college, as one of its officers. The interven- 
 ing period had been spent in teaching, at Gorham 
 Academy, in Wiscasset, in Bucksport, and as Princi- 
 pal of Hallowell Academy, where the Abbotts, the 
 Vanghans and Merricks, and not far away the home of 
 Mr. Gardiner, with other cultivated families, had devel- 
 oped a society as intelligent and refined as could well 
 be found. George Evans was then a rising lawyer in 
 Gardiner. 
 
 Tutor Packard Avas first entrusted for two years 
 with instruction in Languages and Geometry, and for a 
 third year with Languages and Mathematics ; and one 
 of his early duties — he used to recall it, I remember, 
 with a pleased look — -was to examine my father in 
 Mathematics for admission to college and Junior stand- 
 ing. From 1822 to 1824, Mathematics were exchanged 
 for Metaphysics, and the last year Tutor Smyth — I 
 may be pardoned the allusion for its curiousness — be- 
 came Instructor in Greek. Matters settled down, we 
 may piously believe, into their pre-ordained relations 
 when the next year the latter was made Tutor in Math- 
 ematics and Natural Philosophy. Rev. Thomas C. 
 Upham was added to the Faculty as Professor of Mental 
 and Moral Philosophy, and Mr. Packard was promoted 
 to the Professorship of the Latin and Greek Languages 
 and Literatures vacated by Professor Newman for the 
 chair, which he made renowned, of Rhetoric and Ora- 
 tory. 
 
 The conjunction of these names tempts to a digres- 
 sion which I will not avoid, for it opens a view of 
 
53 
 
 our Professor's life which has its own value and charm. 
 There is a tradition that the genial Professor Cleave- 
 land — name always to be mentioned here with peculiar 
 lionor — desired that the homes of the younger profes- 
 sors should be erected somewhere in the vicinity of his 
 own ; not anticipating, perhaps, how numerously and 
 merrily — I had almost said noisily — they were to be 
 filled. Professor Newman, however, for some reason 
 unknown to me, had purchased some land and bu.ilt his 
 house within, or on the very edge of the primeval for- 
 est. The college campus — yard we always called it in 
 the old time — terminated on the south with a fence 
 and a row of poplars near what is now the walk from 
 Main Street to King Chapel. All beyond was a rough 
 clearing with many a pine stump, or unbroken woods. 
 Some effective consideration — I believe it was the gift 
 of a building lot — ^prevailed at length with two of his 
 colleagues to raise a double house in neighborly conti- 
 guity with his own. What were the freedom of inter- 
 course and the intimacies of friendship between these 
 sacred homes it would not be fitting for me here to tell, 
 but two remarks may be permitted. Children came not 
 a few — there was a colony of us — troops of children with 
 at least an average amount, I may safely say, of that 
 sort of human nature which sometimes develops neigh- 
 borhood and parental complications. Yet no one of us 
 all, I am sure, then or since, has ever had the slightest 
 suspicion that there was not always between our 
 parents as perfect a concord as reigns in heaven. This 
 I say in the large and priceless interest of human 
 
54 
 
 friendships. The other remark is this. Having known 
 Professor Packard, as a child knows a man whom he 
 sees in the privacies of domestic life, having recited to 
 him, as a boy, in his college study, and afterwards, as a 
 student, in the lecture rooms, having associated with him 
 in the Faculty and been admitted as it were to the privil- 
 eges of a son of the house, it is one of the greatest pleas- 
 ures of my life to say in this presence, — not as testimony, 
 for there is no need of that, but simply for the genuine- 
 ness and nobleness which were his, — that here was a man 
 who wore no trappings, who hid himself behind no dis- 
 guises, who was in reality all that he seemed, who was 
 always and everywhere the same perfect gentleman, 
 the same humble, sincere, true-hearted, loyal disciple 
 of Christ. 
 
 February 23, 1825, was a day of congratulation in 
 the college. Two new chairs of instruction had been 
 introduced, and three Professors, Newman, Packard, 
 and Upham, elected the previous September, were now 
 inducted into office. The joy of the occasion found ex- 
 pression in an evening concert of sacred music, at 
 Stoddard's Hall. Airs, choruses, and anthems were ren- 
 dered to the music of Denman and Haydn, Mozart and 
 Handel. The first part opened with the Lord's Prayer; 
 the second with "Blessed is he that cometh in the name 
 of the Lord." At his inauguration Professor Packard 
 delivered an address upon the manner in which the 
 acquisition of the classical languages and literature can 
 best be made. The selection of a theme so practical 
 for an inaugural discourse is characteristic, and I have 
 
been interested, in turning over the pages of the time- 
 worn manuscript, not only in the evidences of his pa- 
 tient reflection upon the work before him, but also in 
 the aggressive and reformatory spirit with which he 
 entered upon it. He vigorously attacked the method 
 of cramming the beginner's mind with abstract rules 
 and principles, and urgently commended the method 
 of nature and of practical service which presents first 
 concrete facts and instructive instances, and aims at the 
 command of a literature rather than the special skill of 
 the grammarian and the lexicographer. His private 
 papers show with what painstaking assiduity he pur- 
 sued, in preparation for the recitation room, the 
 intricacies of Greek syntax and the niceties and refine- 
 ments of linguistic lore, but I doubt if any of his 
 pupils realized how minute and extensive were his 
 studies in these directions. We knew that he was 
 exact and sure, that he weighed the force of every par- 
 ticle, that he could supply felicitous renderings, but 
 we were still more impressed with his genuine love of 
 the classics, his admiration of the delicacy and grace of 
 Horace, his appreciation of the pungent satire of Ju- 
 venal, his response to the serious purpose, the law-reveal- 
 ing, rhythmic movement of the Greek tragedy. He said 
 but little in comment on the immortal works we read 
 with him, and still less either in praise or blame of our 
 recitations. A slight frown, a sort of perplexed and 
 baffled look when we missed ; a lighting up of the face 
 and lifting of the brow, and a somewhat quicker use 
 of the recording pencil when he was pleased — these 
 
56 
 
 were all ; but we always knew whether he was satisfied 
 or not. And so simple and evident was his own admir- 
 ation of the classics he taught us that their authors, as 
 it were, stood before us, his personal friends, Avhom we 
 were affronting if we did not do our best to enter re- 
 spectfully and sympathetically into their thoughts and 
 fancies. "I knew liim first," writes President Hamlin, 
 "in 1830. He was then apparently in the very bloom 
 of early manhood. He was amiable, cheerful, social 
 with a student. If any one went to him with a ques- 
 tion about a difficult passage in Greek he satisfied him 
 without any attempt to overwhelm him with a show 
 of learning. I remember very distinctly the deep inter- 
 est with which we read the Anabasis to him. He made 
 us follow the heroic march with an interest we had 
 never had in any classic story. His teaching was clear, 
 never verbose nor redundant. He had the faculty of 
 not saying too much. His language was always classic. 
 There was a certain finish about his style that could 
 not but be noticed. It was always a pleasure to listen 
 to a lecture or any thing which he had prepared with 
 care. The fine natural elements of his mind had been 
 brought into perfect harmony and polished to the high- 
 est degree by the study of Greek literature, — of the 
 most perfect models which man has given to his 
 fellow-man." 
 
 In the Catalogue of 1831 I find the first allusion 
 to his " Lectures on Classical Literature." They were 
 prepared for by a diligent use of the best editions, and 
 the careful stud}^ of modern criticism, and were written 
 in a style of perfect clearness and simplicity. 
 
bi 
 
 In 1837 he published his edition of " Xenophon's 
 Memorabilia of Socrates, with English Notes," which 
 soon passed to a second edition, and was adopted as a 
 text-book in several of the colleges in this country. 
 It was commended at the time by a writer in the 
 North American Review for the thoroughness and fidel- 
 ity with which it was edited, and for the great judg- 
 ment and helpfulness of the English notes. 
 
 During the early period of his professorship he be- 
 stowed much attention upon the theory of education 
 and upon the art of teaching. He wrote upon these 
 subjects articles for the North American Review and 
 other publications. He delivered addresses and lect- 
 ures before teachers' meetings in this State and else- 
 Mdiere, or to his college classes. One of these addresses, 
 pronounced at the dedication of the Teachers' Semi- 
 nary at Gorham, was published in 1837, and another on 
 the "Characteristics of a Good English School," the 
 ' following year. He advocated earnestly the value of 
 classical studies as a part of a system of public educa- 
 tion, founding his plea upon the broadest conceptions 
 of mental and moral culture and of the welfare of 
 society and of the State. The conviction is rapidly 
 growing that the increasingly diversified needs of mod- 
 ern society demand more and more specialized methods 
 of training. The higher institutions of learning are by 
 the necessities of this development pushed nearer and 
 nearer to the position of a university which includes 
 within its curriculum the opportunities of all knowledge. 
 But somewhere in our system must be maintained and 
 
58 
 
 vigilantly guarded the scheme and method of instruc- 
 tion which makes more of the man than of his work, 
 which secures that general discipline of all the powers 
 which is essential to their best specialization. This 
 conception, which has been the main motive of the 
 American college, Professor Packard develops, in these 
 essays and addresses, with clearness and vigor. He 
 was governed by it in his relations to his colleagues. 
 Highly as he prized the studies of his own department, 
 he never claimed for them an undue place. When he 
 entered on. his work the Natural Sciences, under a rec- 
 ognized leader in this department, had gained here a 
 special prominence. Longfellow and Goodwin soon 
 gave to Modern Languages a position they occupied 
 nowhere else. No one more heartily than Professor 
 Packard has welcomed, as the times have demanded 
 them, changes and expansions of the curriculum. He 
 was governed by principle, and his principles of educa- 
 tion I believe were sound to the core. 
 
 His interest in popular education was manifested in 
 deed as well as word. I find this pencilled note in his 
 hand-writing: "I have been all my days a ]3upil and 
 teacher, and I do not recollect the time when the sight 
 of a school learning did not excite a lively interest in 
 my heart." In these words, doubtless, we have the 
 secret of the diligence and patience with which for 
 many years he served on the town committee for com- 
 mon schools, visiting them faithfully in various districts, 
 and always supporting and aiding the teachers in their 
 work. 
 
59 
 
 I can but glance at the various offices he filled in 
 the last quarter — a little more than twenty-one years — 
 of his life. After holding the chair of Classical Litera- 
 ture forty-one years, during three years of which he was 
 also Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory, and one Col- 
 lins Professor of Natural and Revealed Religion, his 
 entire service was transferred to this chair, which he 
 filled to the last. During twelve of these years he also 
 had charge of the library, which had always been as the 
 apple of his eye. The closing year he officiated as 
 President of the college, a service which now appears 
 as a beautiful completion of his career. 
 
 His helpfulness to the church, which has always 
 stood in such intimate and important relations to the 
 college, has been fully presented in a published discourse 
 of its pastor. I will only say of this aspect of Professor 
 Packard's life, that it deeply impresses me with the 
 greatness of the service he rendered. The purity of its 
 quality you know. Perhaps you may not have thought 
 of its variety and vast accumulation. What is it in any 
 community for a man of station and influence to en- 
 gage with an invariable constancy through the life-time 
 of more than two generations in all the offices of Chris- 
 tian intercourse, in prayers by the bedside of the weary 
 and sick, in consolations to the bereaved, in hymn and 
 prayer, in exhortation and counsel, in testimony and 
 invitation and warning, in public discourse on the 
 Lord's day, and in reverent, believing, comforting ad- 
 ministration of holy sacrament ? One of my very earliest 
 recollections of Professor Packard is his standing, Sun- 
 
60 
 
 day after Sunday, with the bass singers in the choir, 
 and of his superintendence of the Sabbath school and 
 watchful care of its library. An absence of the pastor, 
 during which he occupied the pulpit, brought him into 
 prominence as a preacher, and from that time he ap- 
 peared frequently, as his services were solicited, in this 
 and neighboring pulpits. Coleridge has said that good 
 sense is the body of poetic genius, and Mr. Lowell — in 
 whose return to America we all rejoice — has recently 
 affirmed, in eulogy of the poet Gray, "that if there is 
 one thing more than another which insures the lead in 
 life, it is the commonplace." Professor Packard's ser- 
 mons, while usually finished in form, had this body of 
 good sense and were on the level of men's lives. They 
 interested people of every class. They dealt invariably 
 with the more vital and practical, and therefore with 
 the broadest, themes of the gospel. If they had a spe- 
 cial adaptation to students it was in the abundance of 
 the illustrations drawn from the biographies and say- 
 ings of men of letters or prominent in public life. The 
 impression was doubtless made, which another has re- 
 ferred to, that our Professor in his varied reading and 
 scholarly acquisitions, had, as a constant aim, the dis- 
 covery of materials in whose use he could most effect- 
 ively commend to us the soundest principles and high- 
 est aims of conduct. Very many of his discourses, I 
 presume, were prepared with special reference to the 
 demands of the Saturday evening lecture, a religious 
 service long maintained. Of his private and personal 
 influence in the college as a moral counselor and 
 
61 
 
 Christian friend, I will not venture to speak. His 
 record is on high, and many there are who witness to 
 his Christian wisdom and fidelity. 
 
 No sketch of his life would be complete which omit- 
 ted to notice his contributions to history, and his labors 
 in connection with the society whose treasures he for 
 many years vigilantly guarded. I leave for others, who 
 purpose, I understand, to deal with this phase of his 
 life, its appropriate treatment, but cannot forbear to 
 express my sense of the value of his labors in this 
 sphere, and my admiration of the richness, grace, and 
 perfect adaptation of his three great historical ad- 
 dresses : one, delivered at the centennial celebration of 
 the Congregational church at Wiscasset; another, at 
 the semi-centennial of the General Conference of Maine ; 
 and the third, the address to this Association delivered 
 in 1858, a tribute to Alma Mater which the college 
 would do well to re-publish as the most effective tract 
 it could circulate to deepen and widen a practical in- 
 terest in its prosperity. 
 
 As I sketched at the opening of this address the 
 character of Professor Packard's father, you saw many 
 of the most marked traits of the son. The one was a 
 man of strictest punctuality, method, and diligence. 
 The other was equally systematic and industrious. 
 Through my Brunswick life he had a morning recita- 
 tion immediately after college prayers (which for most 
 of the year were at six o'clock). His family were 
 expected to be in readiness for a devotional service at 
 seven, when the boards of the college, the officers, the 
 
62 
 
 students, were as sure to be remembered in prayer as 
 his own immediate household. Immediately after 
 breakfast the Professor could be seen in his checked 
 blue and black Rob-Roy jacket, or lighter garment as 
 the season might be, and with axe or garden-tool. Nine 
 o'clock found him in his study — for long No. 7 in North 
 College, (now Winthrop Hall) ; then, the same number 
 in Appleton. Every hour and minute had its appointed 
 task or service through the day, including the short 
 invariable nap immediately after dinner. The hours of 
 labor ran on far into the night. There was always 
 time for a neighborly call and other peoples' needs. 
 
 You recall the charming picture Heine draws of the 
 habits of the philosopher Kant. " Rising, coffee-drink- 
 ing, writing, reading, lectures, dining, walking — every- 
 thing had its set time; and the neighbors knew with 
 perfect accuracy that it was half-past three o'clock, 
 when Immanuel Kant, in his gray body-coat, with his 
 rattan in his hand, came out of his house-door, and bent 
 his steps toward the little linden-alley, . . . and when 
 the weather was dull his servant, old Lampe, was seen 
 walking behind him, with anxious concern, carrying a 
 long umbrella under his arm, like a picture of provi- 
 dence." With almost equal exactness might the dwell- 
 ers on Main Street, from our Professor's house to the 
 village post-office, have set their watches by his transit. 
 
 It was due to this method that he was able to 
 attend to so wide a range of duties. Besides the many 
 services I have already indicated, he was almost an 
 assistant in })arish visiting to the Rev. Dr. George E. 
 
Adams and his successors, who rehed greatly on his 
 judgment and tact in cases of peculiar delicacy. He 
 was much engaged in the Temperance reform. He was 
 pre-eminently the member of the Faculty who looked 
 after the routine, keeping everything in motion and on 
 time. He performed an incalculable amount of work 
 on the successive Triennials, — a labor fitly consum- 
 mated in his completion of the History of the College 
 begun by his friend, the first President of this Associa- 
 tion, Nehemiah Cleaveland. 
 
 His father was a strict disciplinarian. All his own 
 instincts and habits were on the side of law and author- 
 ity. His ethical maxims were so pure, and the course 
 of his life had brought him so little into contact with 
 men of diverse standards of life and moral habits, that 
 his judgment of wrong-doers was naturally severe. 
 The experience of years expanded his nature. Mitu 
 est maturus. 
 
 His long and loving study of the classics lent a 
 peculiar attraction to his style, as his early training 
 gave him the most polished manners, and nature his 
 tall and graceful form and strikingly handsome coun- 
 tenance. But even in the charm of that which was 
 most external there was mingled the higher grace of 
 that which is spiritual and eternal. His style was 
 rooted in the man; his invariable courtesy was an 
 expression of his character. The just, the true, the 
 right, were his aim. His most appropriate and admir- 
 able memoir of the saintly Appleton reflects his own 
 ideals. He had great loyalty to men and to institutions. 
 
64 
 
 Not apt to be foremost in aggressive work he could be 
 true as steel. 
 
 His most conspicuous moral trait was utter fidelity. 
 With this was inevitably connected constant growth 
 in excellence and power. Aspiring to no leadership he 
 won a master}^ rarely equaled, perhaps never surpassed, 
 in academic circles. He loved the college with a life- 
 long devotion and the college rose up to do him rever- 
 ence. His life was a whole-hearted consecration to 
 unselfish and noble ends, and the law of the universe, 
 more enduring, mightier than any law of the ma- 
 terial creation, the law that he who serves shall reign, 
 bore him to his throne. 
 
 I recall but one academic career in this country 
 that approaches his in duration, that of Dr. Nott, Pres- 
 ident of Union College for sixty-two years ; and but 
 one in England which exceeds it, that of Martin Joseph 
 Routh, who was appointed Librarian of Magdalen 
 College, Oxford, in 1781, and President in 1791, and 
 who died in 1854 after a service of seventy-three years. 
 Professor Packard was an oflicer of Bowdoin College, 
 in uninterrupted service, sixty-five years. 
 
 What a beautiful old age was his, fit coronation of 
 so simple, pure, beneficent a life ! 
 
 Jacunda senectus, 
 Cujus erant mores, qualis facundia, mite 
 Ingenium. 
 
 Dr. Routh died in his one hundredth year. Accu- 
 rate himself to the last degree, he was annoyed when 
 near his end by a newspaper notice which stated his 
 
65 
 
 age — " I am described as being a little younger than 
 Pitt. The blockhead, as he knew my age, might 
 have known that I was four or five years older." It 
 was reported to our Professor that some one had 
 spoken of him as an old man of ninety-two. "Why 
 did he not say," was the reply with unfailing courtesy, 
 "that I am a young man of eighty-five? " So he seemed 
 to us, the color still brilliant on his cheek even after 
 death. 
 
 More than ever before, in the closing years the 
 cheerfulness, the trust, the hope and charity of his 
 Christian faith shone out. He dismissed another 
 college class with a father's benediction — who that 
 heard it will forget that closing prayer af the last 
 Commencement ? At church, the following Lord's Day, 
 he sang to the end 
 
 ''My faith looks up to Thee," 
 
 the last stanza how prophetic ! 
 
 He sleeps with McKeen, and Appleton, and col- 
 leagues and friends of many years in the ancient pine- 
 girt cemetery, 
 
 '' Where the shade 
 He loved will guard his slumbers night and day. 
 
 Fitting close 
 
 For such a life ! His twelve long sunny hours 
 Bright to the edge of darkness : then the calm 
 Eepose of twilight, and a crown of stars." ^ 
 
 1 Quarterly Review, vol. 146, p. 39. 
 5 
 
CHARACTER 
 
 A SATURDAY EVENING LECTURE 
 
 BY PROFESSOR A. S. PACKARD, D.D.* 
 
 1 John ii. ll : "I have written uuto you, young men, because ye are 
 ■strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the 
 wicked one." 
 
 The wise man says : " The glory of young men is 
 their strength." The apostle in our text only states 
 more fully what he had just before written at the ex- 
 pense of what might seem a needless repetition. "I 
 write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome 
 the wicked one." The aged apostle looked to the 
 young men, now in the prime and vigor of manhood, 
 with special hope for the church and the world, because 
 they had given the best proof of vigor and energy in 
 overcoming, through the word of God abiding in them, 
 "the wicked one." There are always fond hopes clus- 
 tering around the path of a young man who is setting 
 forth in the career of life. Especially is it thus with 
 him who goes out with the great advantages of a lib- 
 eral education. He bears with him means of influence 
 which wealth or position of itself does not give. Who 
 can estimate the amount or value of the influence now 
 
 *This address was delivered in the Cleavelaud Lecture Room, November 17, 
 1877, and again at the same place October 9, 1880. It is printed to serve alike as 
 an illustration and a reminder of the many similar efforts for the moral ad- 
 vancement and spiritual growth of the undergraduates. 
 
67 
 
 exercised by the graduates of our colleges on our land 
 and on the world? 
 
 But what hope for the best interests of mankind 
 would there be in this great amount of influence, were 
 it directed by corrupt principle and unsound moral 
 sentiment? "The glory of young men is their 
 strength " in whatever is just, pure, honest, lovely, and 
 of good report. Nothing is more settled in the actual 
 working of society, than that known immorality in a 
 man is fatal to success, so far as that depends on the 
 opinions or preferences or patronage of men. It was 
 at one time doubtful which of the two distinguished 
 rivals in the British Parliament, Pitt and Fox, would 
 win the race in the political arena. Fox had the 
 advantage in those qualities which attract popularity ; 
 but he failed through want of character. 
 
 But more than this, men withhold confidence from 
 the intriguer or the knave, however brilliant may be his 
 powers, as even from the man of fair character, if he 
 prove himself weak, obsequious, and cringing. Noth- 
 ing more inevitably or more rapidly reduces a man's 
 position with his fellow-men, than the impression of 
 false-heartedness or pusillanimity in a matter involving 
 principle. It is not enough then to avoid transgres- 
 sions of the moral code. Positive virtues are de- 
 manded by a public, always jealous and somewhat 
 exacting. We need not merely harmless men, but 
 strong men. These times especially demand strong, 
 reliable, inflexible virtue. Let it be borne in mind 
 that the seeds of such virtue are sown early, and its 
 
68 
 
 most important culture comes early, or scarcely at all. 
 What are the conditions or the laws of such culture ? 
 Your moral philosophy inculcates the view, that strong, 
 reliable virtue is not a spontaneous growth, but that 
 it comes of trial, discipline, struggle, and conflict. 
 
 One of the first experiences of a young man at his 
 first leaving the watch and care of home, is likely to 
 be, that his views of life which have been inculcated 
 with most tender solicitude and assiduity are at once 
 exposed to strange and sometimes even revolting 
 influences in the new associations into which he is 
 thrown. His notions of morality, of conduct and 
 manners even, are rudely assailed at every turn. 
 What is he to do in the new conflicts which he must 
 face? Is he to yield to the prevailing tendencies of 
 the society into which he is introduced ? Is he to lay 
 one side the maxims of integrity, of virtue, of manli- 
 ness, which have been inculcated as the guide of his 
 life, and to adopt the new maxims which perhaps 
 govern the new world around him ? Is it merely a 
 question of temporary expediency and of policy, and 
 is he to follow the multitude to do evil ? Is he to cast 
 away his Bible, to discard conscience, renounce the 
 dictates of his better nature, and throw himself upon 
 the current of opinion and sentiment without a strug- 
 gle or a question ? Scarcely a youth but has just this 
 trial forced upon him. 
 
 Let that inquiry rest awhile, and let us look at 
 another matter. A young man enters the career of 
 business, or of some profession. There is an honest, 
 
69 
 
 honorable mode of conducting his vocation. Some 
 are ready for every trick of trade, — for any sharp turn 
 of practice in their profession. Heedless of character, 
 their maxim is, that the end justifies the means. Shall 
 the young adventurer adopt this as his law of commer- 
 cial or professional life ? Every educated young man 
 in our land is soon called to decide what part he will 
 act in the political events of the time. Shall he frame 
 his theory of politics with careful reflection and study 
 of the great questions relating to our government and 
 institutions, independently, conscientiously, in view of 
 his duty and obligations as a good citizen, or shall he 
 reject conscience and judgment in the matter, and be 
 governed solely by a selfish regard to his own personal 
 interests in the case ? The course which a high-minded 
 individual will choose every one knows. Selfishness 
 often gains its ends, but, let it be noticed, through cun- 
 ning concealment of itself; for nothing is more certain 
 under the constitution of things in this world than 
 that the public favor will never be knowingly and per- 
 manently bestowed upon the self-scheming, self-inter- 
 ested tradesman or politician or professional man. 
 
 Now to return to the inquiry, what is a youth to 
 do when he is put to breast the torrent of wrong prin- 
 ciples and evil influences into which he may have been 
 thrown; when questions of right and wrong are 
 brought home to him, and he is called upon to meet 
 them and to decide for himself his course of action, 
 what is he to do ? Most likely among the influences 
 addressed to him to lead him astray from what in his 
 
70 
 
 real convictions he is persuaded to be the path of rec- 
 titude and honor, is the exhortation to be a man, and 
 to assert his independence. And that is just what we 
 say to him. Let his true manhood decide the question. 
 If he have not manliness strong enough to settle this 
 prime question of his life, he may give up the hope of 
 a true manliness for anything else. True manliness 
 works from within, from the inmost recesses of the 
 heart and character, outward. If one does not early 
 form the purpose and habit of resistance to temptation, 
 he may as well give up the voyage. His bark is un- 
 seaworthy, and will ere long become a wreck, or if 
 not entirely so, his voyage will be fruitless. 
 
 Now what we urge as a most valuable quality in a 
 young man and essential to the highest success in life 
 is that just indicated, the power of carrying himself 
 well and honorably through such crises of his moral 
 history. We commonly call it independence of char- 
 acter. The remainder of this discourse will be devoted 
 to remarks on true independence of character ; a trait 
 held in high repute among young men, and which de- 
 serves careful consideration, inasmuch as there are 
 serious mistakes concerning it. It seems at first a mis- 
 application of terms to attribute independence in any 
 sense to so dependent a creature as man. In no re- 
 spect can he be independent of Him in whom we live 
 and move and have our being. Free agency and ac- 
 countability do not exclude the agency and control of 
 God. Nor can any one sunder himself from depend- 
 ence on his fellow-men. All men are bound together 
 
71 
 
 by mutual dependence and reciprocal influence. 
 There is in truth no such thing as absolute independ- 
 ence of a human being in action or thought. What 
 then do we mean when we speak of independence of 
 character? We mean only, that one's opinions and 
 sentiments, his judgments of men and things and of 
 conduct, are the result of his own convictions. He 
 does not adopt an opinion or choose a course of action 
 because others think and act thus or so ; but, guided 
 by reason and conscience, he decides for himself the 
 line of truth and duty, and follows it. This does not 
 exclude influence from others, nor does it imply neces- 
 sarily a dogmatic spirit, or dogged pertinacity adhering 
 to its own determinations because they are its own, 
 and rejecting another's because they are not its own. 
 The true independence of which we speak seeks for 
 light from every source, and its decisions are made in 
 view of the reasons which appear. Washington, in 
 difiicult and important matters of state, was accus- 
 tomed to request the opinions of his cabinet in writing, 
 and then to decide in view of their judgments and his 
 own. The author of "Autumn Holidays of a Country 
 Parson " remarks of Archbishop Whately, one of the 
 most marked men of this century, that one of his posi- 
 tive characteristics was his independence of thought. 
 He possessed this almost in excess. He thought that 
 to the Archbishop of Dublin the fact that any ojDinion 
 is very generally entertained, so far from being a rec- 
 ommendation, is rather a reason for regarding it with 
 suspicion. It is amusing how regularly we find it oc- 
 
72 
 
 curring in the prefaces to his works, that one reason 
 for the publication of each, is his belief, that erroneous 
 views are commonly entertained as to the subject of it. 
 *'And when we consider," he adds, "hoAV most men 
 receive their opinions upon all subjects ready-made, we 
 cannot appreciate too highl}^ one who, in the emphatic 
 sense of the phrase, thinks for himself." He is, how- 
 ever, careful to add, that "there is hardly an instance 
 in which so much originality of thought can be found 
 in connection with so much justice and sobriety of 
 thought. In him we have independence without the 
 least trace of wrong-headedness." A striking and 
 memorable example of this independence and firmness 
 of character is recorded in the parliamentary career of 
 Sir Fowell Buxton. At a critical period of the slavery 
 question in the British Parliament, he proposed to in- 
 troduce an important motion. Some of the best 
 friends of the cause and of the government were 
 urgent he should not press the question and bring the 
 house to a division. But with all courtesy and in a 
 most touching manner, he insisted, and the house di- 
 vided. His motion was not carried; but the defeat 
 was accounted a victory. " One of the finest moral 
 pictures," says a London lecturer, referring to this in- 
 cident, "the resistance of the individual against 
 united numbers, the victory of personal conviction, 
 self-trust, adherence to the sense of obligation and 
 right, over every sort of influence, may be seen in his 
 conduct on that night. His unalterable purpose looked 
 like dead, downright obstinacy, — as the most rational 
 
73 
 
 firmness always does when it seems a reproach, or is an 
 inconvenience to others. Some of his friends blamed 
 what they termed his obstinacy ; but the minister said, 
 ' It has settled the question.' " 
 
 The difference is very great between the wrong- 
 headedness of a man who merely takes a thing into his 
 head, and doggedly sticks to it, and the inflexibility of 
 him, who, under a full sense of all the responsibility of 
 deciding a question of moment, "thinks it out and 
 knows what he is after." 
 
 Here was a memorable example of exalted inde- 
 pendence and firmness of character, but it was brought 
 into exercise in an important public emergency. A 
 superior mental and moral character was put to the 
 hardest test by the call of a great occasion. We have 
 an illustration of the same great quality in a matter of 
 ordinary morality in the late John Q. Adams. When 
 minister plenipotentiary to the Court of Holland, he, 
 then a young man, became a member, and, from his 
 ability and culture, a favorite member, of a social club 
 of diplomatists. Their meeting, which had been held 
 on a week-day, was adjourned to the evening of the 
 Sabbath, but Mr. Adams was not present. The meeting 
 was adjourned to a second and third Sabbath evening, 
 and he was again and again absent. It excited great 
 surprise. On returning to the week-day evening, he 
 was in his place, and was met with the cordial greet- 
 ings of his friends, with their regrets that his duties 
 had interfered with his attendance. He at once in- 
 formed them that he had not been detained by business. 
 
74 
 
 but the reason of his absence was that they had met on 
 the Lord's day ; that he had been educated where the 
 Sabbath was strictly observed; that he had watched 
 closely the effects of its observance, and had found 
 them salutary ; and that his experience and observation 
 had taught him the unspeakable advantages of a faith- 
 ful observance of the day. It was an instance of the 
 high character and elevated independence of a young 
 man in the midst of a brilliant circle of European di- 
 plomatists. Such examples command the unmingled 
 respect and admiration of mankind. 
 
 It has been noticed that I have been careful to 
 speak of true independence. If we observe narrowly, 
 we shall find, if I mistake not, that the independence 
 in special favor with many who have voice and influ- 
 ence in the street, and in places of concourse, is a far 
 different rule of conduct. What they advocate is an 
 independence of salutary restraint ; independence of 
 the councils of experience and wisdom, and of the 
 teachings of the divine word. That is plainly the 
 principle of following the multitude to do evil. It may 
 be more properly termed a slavery to false pride, and to 
 the lower inclinations of the heart. When one tosses 
 his neck to the yoke of conscience, discards reason and 
 prudence, rebels against the impulses of his better nat- 
 ure, overleaps the barriers which have been set to 
 hedge around evil propensities, and gives the reins to 
 passion and appetite, what is it but the worst slavery 
 ever suffered in this world? The great conflict of 
 every one is with unholy desires and inclinations within 
 
75 
 
 and unhallowed influences without; with temptations 
 to stand well with his associates, to compliance with 
 prevalent customs, to secure supposed personal inter- 
 ests. Successful resistance to all these, and obedience 
 to conscience and the will of God, constitute the hard- 
 est struggles and the greatest triumphs of life. We 
 are careful therefore to insist on a true independence, 
 because we seek a quality which strengthens character 
 and develops a true manliness. 
 
 True independence of character, we say then, de- 
 cides matters of opinion, of action, of conduct, on their 
 merits. It is based on clear discernment of truth and 
 right, and devotion to it. It believes, not because oth- 
 ers believe thus or so. It acts because it deems it right 
 so to act, not because it is for its interest, or that it 
 may be of the stronger party. It will not endure 
 dictation ; it yields no cringing compliance ; it is jeal- 
 ous of unwarrantable interference. De Tocqueville 
 heard that the government was recommending his 
 election as a candidate for the National Assembly of 
 France, from the arrondissement where he lived, for 
 which post his neighbors had proposed his name. He 
 at once wrote to Count Mold, his personal friend and 
 President of the Cabinet, that he could not consent to 
 be a government candidate ; not, as he declared, be- 
 cause he was opposed to the government, or the minis- 
 try, but because he wished to vote conscientiously and 
 freely, which he could not do if he allowed himself to 
 be placed in nomination by the government. He would 
 not hold office at the sacrifice of his entire independ- 
 
76 
 
 ence. But, as the result, liis independence cost him 
 his election. 
 
 It is important to notice, that we make a sharp dis- 
 crimination between the quality we are considering, 
 and self-will, which esteemeth itself above all others, 
 never yields its own preferences or notions, and makes 
 no account of the opinions and wishes of others, is nar- 
 row-minded, not taking broad views ; and also that 
 other trait, near of kin, pride of opinion, which springs 
 of conceit, admits no distrust or question of the wis- 
 dom of its decisions, and demands homage ; and again, 
 a domineering temper, which covets ascendency, and 
 loves to rule for its own sake, and does not hesitate to 
 overbear and trample down whoever and whatever op- 
 poses. The noblest men in the annals of the world, 
 the greatest leaders of affairs, have been gentle, open 
 to counsel, compliant, forbearing, generous, magnani- 
 mous. 
 
 The independence of which we speak, then, is a 
 quality of superior men. The weak-minded and vacil- 
 lating are not capable of it. It carries with it a nobility 
 better than all heraldry can bestow, and receives a hom- 
 age which wealth and station cannot give. It makes 
 heroes whose names may be unknown to history. It is 
 the offspring of a genuine courage far above any daring 
 of the battlefield. 
 
 Every young man thrown into indiscriminate com- 
 panionship in college, or out, has abundant opportuni- 
 ties for the exercise of this high qualit3^ Genuine in- 
 dependence will never vaunt itself; others may not 
 
77 
 
 know of the conflict it costs or its victories ; but it has 
 daily occasion for the trial of its quality. Better for 
 the possessor, surely, to resolve to act for himself at 
 once, and to establish the habit of acting for himself, in 
 view of truth and right, calmly, deliberately, resolutely. 
 Let him succumb, in an important turn of life, to the 
 influence of others against his better sense and convic- 
 tions ; the great danger is, that he will never recover 
 his lost manliness. Deficiencies or defects caused by 
 negligence, he may repair in a measure by future 
 effort ; but a short course of supple compliance with 
 the false maxims that abound, and with the leadership 
 of base and designing companions, inflicts a wound on 
 his true manhood which neither time nor care can heal. 
 Just at this point let me say that the value of the 
 quality of character we are considering is never more 
 obvious than when one is led to contemplate seriously, 
 and with personal application, his relations to God and 
 the divine government. In no circumstances is it of so 
 much moment to him to act for himself in view of 
 truth and right, and to form the deliberate purpose 
 that, whatever others may think or say, he will obey 
 conscience and God. The lack of precisely that deter- 
 mination of soul has proved the eternal ruin of myriads. 
 How often have one's feet been on the threshold of 
 eternal life, and the fear of others hindered him from 
 the decisive step ? Some one writes : " I once stood on 
 a wharf watching a vessel get ready for sea. Topsails 
 and courses were loosed, the jib hung from the boom, 
 ready to be run up. At that moment the pilot sprung 
 
78 
 
 upon the quarter-deck, inquiring, 'All ready?' 'All 
 ready, sir,' was the reply. Rapidly commands were 
 given and obeyed, the vessel began to pay off ; but 
 something held her fast. The stern hawser was fouled 
 ashore, and they could not cast it off from the timber- 
 head. ' Cut it then,' was the sharp order. ' Never 
 mind the hawser, cut it, before she loses her way ! ' 
 A seaman drew his knife across the strands — the rope 
 parted, the vessel forged ahead, the sails were run up 
 and trimmed, and she filled away." My friend, you 
 may be ready to swing loose from the world and its 
 follies, and set forth on your voyage heavenward ; but 
 fear of some companions, an unwillingness to give up 
 some known sin, or to perform some known duty, that 
 lack of true independence and determination of soul, 
 may yet hold you fast to the world and to death. Cut 
 loose, by one blow, whatever hinders, and God speed 
 your way. 
 
 One can scarcely exaggerate in setting forth the 
 value of true independence of mind and character in 
 life, especially, I would say, to publicly educated men. 
 An educated man is presumed to have opinions on all 
 important questions of the time. His education, of 
 itself, gives him influence and position, if he employs a 
 common degree of activity and energy, and thus calls 
 into exercise his judgment and all his moral force amid 
 the conflicting interests of society. Men look to him 
 for guidance ; he gives tone to public sentiment. If he 
 then would meet his responsibilities as becomes a true 
 
79 
 
 man, and do the good of which the means are m his 
 hand, he must cultivate this high quality. 
 
 True independence and firmness of character is 
 needed at all times, to discountenance the narrow par- 
 tisanship of politics, and to counteract the designs 
 of reckless, self-seeking ambition and covetousness ; 
 and so outside of the sphere of political life, amid 
 the heartlessness and selfishness of the world of busi- 
 ness or of the professions, in city or country. Said Lord 
 Chesterfield, a man of the world, writing of London 
 life : " I have been on the other side of the scenes. I 
 know what lies beneath and behind. Beautiful to ap- 
 pearance are the world and men, as to the outside show 
 of life ; — but, to see as I have seen, the ropes and 
 pulleys of the stage ; to have to smell the smouldering 
 tallow candles ; and to be annoyed with the oils and 
 paints used for getting up the deceit, — it is enough to 
 sicken us with the thought of the hollowness of all 
 things." Even in such a scene of things, under the 
 benevolent ordering of a wise and holy Providence, 
 " He that followeth after righteousness and mercy, 
 •findeth life, righteousness, and honor." " The ways of 
 man are before the eyes of the Lord, and He pondereth 
 all his goings." " He is a buckler to them that walk 
 uprightly." 
 
 Cultivate by every means this ennobling trait of 
 character. You will find it a safeguard. It will fortify 
 you against the wiles and cunning of unscrupulous, 
 designing, self-scheming men. They dare not approach 
 a man clothed with the panoply of tried independence 
 
80 
 
 and virtue. It imparts weight to character. There is 
 in truth no weight of character where it is "y^^anting. 
 The opinions and action of one, who is known to be 
 governed by the law of truth and justice, command 
 respect,, even of knaves. His influence is sought, not 
 as that of ordinary men, but on account of its inherent 
 value and weight. " A wise man is strong ; yea, a man 
 of knowledge increaseth strength." 
 
 The basis of a high-toned character is in fixed moral 
 principle, and the only source of pure principle is in 
 the religion of Christ. The fountain of character is 
 in the heart, and that must be right with God to ensure 
 a character in harmony with truth and holiness. The 
 highest style of character springs from the life of God 
 in the soul, — from the spirit of holiness in the centre of 
 our being. Is it not plain, then, that the trait which 
 has been occupying our thoughts in this evening's exer- 
 cise is strengthened and energized by the power of the 
 gospel of the Redeemer, and not only so, but that it is 
 at once elevated in its tone and has a new value im- 
 parted to it, when the grace of God has wrought its 
 full work in the soul? A higher and broader sphere of 
 action is at once opened for its exercise ; it comes under 
 the influence of new and holier motives. He who has 
 become a man in Christ Jesus is many times more a 
 man than before. Examples of the most exalted inde- 
 pendence and fearlessness are found in the Scriptures. 
 Familiarity with the sacred volume, the daily reading 
 of it, and meditation upon it, tend greatly to purify 
 and elevate the mental and moral character ; just as fre- 
 
81 
 
 quent intercourse with good men, by the law of assim- 
 ilation, tends to improve ourselves in manners and life. 
 An English barrister, accustomed to train students to 
 the Bar, and not himself a religious man, was once 
 asked, why he put students, from the first, to the study 
 and analysis of the most difficult portions of the Script- 
 ure. He replied : " Because there is nothing else like it 
 in any language for the development of mind and char- 
 acter." Be persuaded, if Christ is now in you the hope 
 of glory, to be steadfast, unmovable in his service, ever 
 watchful lest you bring reproach on Him and His cause ; 
 and if you are yet without this blessed hope, see to it, 
 that you make no compromise with error, or with evil, 
 lest, through your own lack of purpose and resolution, 
 you fail in the great issues of this life and come short 
 at last of life eternal. 
 
REMARKS 
 
 By professor PACKARD 
 
 AT THE CELEBRATION OF HIS S4TH BIRTHDAY BY THE MAINE HISTORICAL 
 SOCIETY.* 
 
 Mr. President, — I could not be more surprised than 
 when I saw in the press notice of the July meeting of 
 the society, mention of the action which has brought 
 us together this evening. I would express my most 
 grateful acknowledgment for the compliment and honor 
 thus done me. When the late eminent Dr. Guthrie, 
 one of the brilliant ornaments of the Scotch church of 
 Edinburgh, on retiring from the pulpit in consequence 
 of ill health, received a testimonial from the churches 
 of Scotland, he wrote a friend : " I suppose some may 
 think that this has blown me up. But no, it has caused 
 me humiliation." In myself, so far from elation by this 
 notice of the society and the circumstances which have 
 attended it, I have felt deep humiliation. I cannot 
 attribute all this to what I have done (that falls so far 
 short of any promise or expectation which such oppor- 
 tunities as I have had would have justified), but to the 
 fact that through Divine blessing, my quiet, uniform 
 manner of life and a firm constitution, almost exempt 
 from sickness or infirmity of any sort, have brought me 
 
 * These remarks were made at Portland, December 23, 1882, iu reply to 
 words of introduction by Hon. James W. Bradbury, President of the Society. 
 Thev are taken from the report printed in tlie Portland Press of December 2.'ith. 
 
83 
 
 to what is considered advanced years. Not to deeds, 
 but to years I owe this distinction. 
 
 Human lives, considered in their earthly relations, 
 may be regarded in two aspects, that of anticipation — 
 looking ahead — and that of retrospection — looking back. 
 The child is ever hoping to reach his teens. The 
 Roman boy anticipated with desire when at fifteen or 
 sixteen he should throw down the prsetexta and before 
 the praetor, with public ceremonials, surrounded by 
 family and friends, assume the toga virilis. None of us 
 can forget the important era in our lives when we cast 
 our first ballot, and so asserted our claim to citizenship 
 and to the rights of a freeman of the Republic and a 
 voice in the nation, and then we look forward to the year 
 when we can represent town or district or state in the 
 legislatures or in Congress, so far always looking for- 
 ward — ever inclined to increase our score of years. 
 We now enter on a period not so definitely marked 
 when we are less disposed to overcast our years. You 
 remember that in the revolution there was a region 
 above New York on the Hudson, called the Neutral 
 Ground. The traveler was required to answer whether 
 he was from up or down. Much depended on the reply, 
 and there was often doubt whether a true answer was 
 given. So in the circuit of our years we enter on what, 
 in regard to age, may be termed a neutral ground — a 
 zone of uncertainty — -we are not quite sure of definite 
 results. Napoleon I. was informed that among the 
 ladies of his court there was a difference as to which 
 should precede in a court ceremonial. That was a 
 
84 
 
 question of rank, and might require search of state or 
 family record — in England a study of Burke's Peerage, 
 or the " Heraldric Journal," perhaps the exploration of 
 the one hundred or more folios of the Record commis- 
 sion. The emperor thought he would settle the diffi- 
 culty, and ordered that the oldest should precede. It 
 did not settle the case at all. There was at once 
 great hesitation, deference and holding back. No one 
 was willing to assume the dignity and honor of being 
 the oldest lady in the court circle. Some years ago, a 
 witness was placed on the stand in the court in this 
 city. The counsel, for reasons best known to himself, 
 was urgent to ascertain the age of the witness, but his 
 skill could not extort a definite reply. Judge Mellen 
 suggested that it might answer, if she should be put 
 down as of " no particular age." 
 
 In due time, however, in spite of dissimulation and 
 any contrivance of ours, age gives decided indications 
 that it is near at hand. The eye becomes less prompt 
 and definite. We repair to the oculist shyly, not 
 that we are growing old, but by incaution we have 
 abused the organ. For a time gray hairs are here and 
 there upon us, and we know it not ; but we at length, 
 to our chagrin, perhaps, detect the intrusion. We are 
 consoled by what Herbert Spencer has recently affirmed, 
 that, as one effect of the hurry, restlessness and worri- 
 ment of American life, gray hairs with us appear ten 
 years earlier than on European heads. He is a man of 
 wide observation, a philosopher; and, though we reject 
 some of his philosophy, we will take that as true 
 
85 
 
 science. It might be a good thing to get up a testi- 
 monial to him, gratefully acknowledging his discern- 
 ment in this matter. We often admire the almond tree 
 flourishing over heads and forms too young for such 
 flowering, still brilliant in their beauty, and active and 
 graceful in movement as ever. We honor them who 
 have allowed nature her own way, not interfering by 
 any art or contrivance. Years roll on and we cannot 
 stay their course. Herbert Spencer questioned the 
 wisdom of the New York constitution which judged it 
 unfitting for its Chancellor, even though he were a 
 Kent, to hold office beyond his sixtieth year. Our own 
 State draws the " death-line " of the supreme bench at 
 seventy. I will not aflirm it, but that zone of uncer- 
 tainty may reach even to that border-line ; the reticence 
 and reserve on the troublesome question of age may 
 even there manifest itself. - But, ordinarily, we become 
 less sensitive — are more frank and explicit — even, it 
 may be, take some pride in our years. I received a 
 letter a few years ago from a friend, who subjoined to 
 his signature " At the age of eighty-five." He held no 
 reserve. 
 
 But we, however, do not welcome the advent of age. 
 This is not unnatural. When we reach this " snowy 
 summit of our years," we know that we shall then de- 
 scend the farther hill-side of life ; our sun is westerning, 
 our shadows lengthen, and we can look not far down 
 where the shades of evening are gathering. Poetry 
 from Homer down deepens the impression of infirmity, 
 decay, decrepitude we attach to old age. Holy Script- 
 
86 
 
 ure teaches us : " The days of our years are threescore 
 years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they be 
 fourscore, yet is their strength labor and sorrow," and 
 so the Preacher in Ecclesiastes reminds us of the days 
 when " the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the 
 strong men shall bow themselves, and tho^e that look 
 out of the windoAvs be darkened ; also when they shall 
 be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the 
 way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grass- 
 hopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail." 
 
 You recall the seven ages of human life as charac- 
 terized by Shakespeare. 
 
 ''The sixth age shifts 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
 With spectacles on nose and pouch on side." 
 
 And the seventh ends, 
 
 ''In second childishness and mere oblivion, 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything," 
 
 not always verified in experience. The transition from 
 age to age is not violent and sudden. Years roll on, 
 but we hear no rumble ; time has wings, but we hear 
 no whir. " Our days are swifter than a weaver's 
 shuttle," but they are noiseless. In ordinary health 
 age steals upon us sandaled, velvet-footed. The cele- 
 brated Dr. Chalmers of Scotland, when beyond sixty, 
 said he often felt like a boy. A relative of mine at 
 eighty-four told me that when in his chair he felt as 
 young as at twenty-five. My father left unfinished a 
 letter to Mr. Stephen Longfellow in as steady a hand, 
 
87 
 
 as consecutive in thought as any written in earlier life, 
 written a few days before his death, at the age of eighty- 
 seven. On my eightieth birthday it was hinted that I 
 might have callers. I accordingly donned my best 
 array, and as I stood to receive, I will say frankly that 
 I felt as if I was acting a farce and my friends were 
 pleased to join in carrying out an illusion and a pre- 
 tence. I just spoke of a period of anticipation. The 
 aged have come to a period of retrospection — looking 
 back. 
 
 There are compensations for those in advanced 
 years. They have the privilege of thinking that former 
 times were better than the present. From the hill-tops 
 of life how vivid and near seem the scenes of early 
 days. They cherish reminiscences. To refer to myself. 
 It is pleasant to me to review my connection with this 
 society. I cherish the memory of most of its founders 
 and its membership throughout, and what can I say of 
 the reminiscences, very pleasant to me, of the seventy 
 classes of the college that have passed under my eyes. 
 
 The world has little to animate hope, or kindle de- 
 sire for the aged. If believers, their best hopes — best 
 for young as well as old — are beyond. The event of 
 the evening may assure us that whatever of shadow 
 may be cast upon them, advanced years have their 
 sunny aspects also. 
 
 I may have seemed to speak with unbecoming levity 
 of what is a most serious subject. I need not say that 
 I feel most deeply the solemnity of treading the outer- 
 most verge of the scene. But a step, which must be 
 
very near for me, and the vast immeasurable unseen is 
 just beyond, and my first and greatest duty, as I hope I 
 have realized in some measure for many years, is to be 
 girded for that. 
 
 Let me add a word to the society which has thus 
 distinguished me, that whenever I enter this hall I rec- 
 ognize on these shelves the friends of many years. I 
 felt a pang when they were removed from the college, 
 but I congratulate the society that the care of them 
 has come into the custody of the enterprise, and skill, 
 and tastes of younger years. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I. LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1. College Education. North American Review. Vol. 
 
 XXVIII. pp. 294-311. April, 1829. 
 
 2. Homer. North American Review. Vol. XXXVII. 
 
 pp. 340-374. October, 1833. 
 
 3. On the best Method of Teaching the Ancient Lan- 
 
 guages. Introductory Discourse and the Lect- 
 ures delivered before the American Institute of 
 Instruction in Boston, August, 1833 ; pp. 155- 
 184. 
 
 4. On the Intercourse between Instructors and Pupils 
 
 in Colleges. American Annals of Education 
 and Instruction. February, 1835; pp. 55-60. 
 
 5. Historical Sketch of Bowdoin College. American 
 
 Quarterly Register. Vol. VIII. pp. 105-117. 
 November, 1835. 
 
 6. The Works of Rev. Jesse Appleton, D.D. With a 
 
 memoir of his life and character (by Rev. A. S. 
 Packard. Vol. I. pp. 9-82.), 2 Vols., Andover, 
 1836-7. 
 
 7. Address at the Dedication of the Teachers' Semi- 
 
 nary at Gorham, Me., September 13, 1837. Port- 
 land, 1837 ; pp. 24. 
 
 8. Characteristics of a Good District School. An 
 
 address delivered before the Teachers' Associa- 
 
90 
 
 tion of Bowdoin College, Brunswick, 1838 ; pp. 
 34. 
 9. Academic Instruction. Four articles in the Cliris- 
 tian Mirror, Jan. 17, 24, 31, and Feb. 7, 1839. 
 
 10. Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, with English 
 
 notes. Andover, 1839; pp. 264. (Noticed in 
 North Am. Rev., Vol. LI. p. 242, July, 1840, 
 and in New York Review, Vol. VI. p. 243, 
 January, 1840.) 
 
 11. The Same. Second Edition, 1841, and Third Edi- 
 
 tion, N. Y., 1843. 
 
 12. Memoir of Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., Bruns- 
 
 wick, 1850 ; pp. 68. 
 
 13. History of Bunker Hill Monument. Collections 
 
 Maine Historical Society, Vol. III. pp. 243-269. 
 Portland, 1853. 
 
 14. Nationality. Bibliotheca Sacra. Vol. XIII. pp. 
 
 173-202. January, 1856. 
 15-17.' Contributions to Sprague's Annals of the 
 American Pulpit, New York, 1857-1865. Bio- 
 graphical notices of Rev. Samuel Eaton, Vol. I. 
 pp. 612-618. Rev. Jesse Appleton, D.D., Vol. 
 II. pp. 383-388. Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., 
 Vol. VIII. pp. 281-290. 
 
 18. Our Alma Mater. Address before the Association 
 
 of the Alumni of Bowdoin College, August 5, 
 1858; pp.49. 
 
 19. On the Progress which Forty Years have witnessed 
 
 in the Means and Methods of Instruction. 
 Maine Teacher and School Officer, Vol. IV. pp. 
 300-365. June, 1862. 
 
91 
 
 20. Address on the Life and Character of William 
 
 Smyth, D.D., before the Alumni of the College, 
 July 7, 1868. Brunswick, 1868; pp. 37. 
 
 21. Address on the Life and Character of Thomas C. 
 
 Upham, D.D., delivered at the interment, April 
 4, 1872. Brunswick, 1873 ; pp. 24. 
 
 22. Memoir of Hon. William Willis, LL.D. New Eng- 
 
 land Historical and Genealogical Register, Vol. 
 XXVII. pp. 1-8. January, 1873. 
 
 23. Address on the occasion of the Centennial Cele- 
 
 bration of the Congregational Church at Wis- 
 casset, August 6, 1873. Wiscasset, 1873; pp. 
 24. 
 
 24. Remarks at the Funeral of James McKeen, M.D., 
 
 December 2, 1873. (Privately printed.) 
 
 25. Notice of Hon. William Willis. Collections Maine 
 
 Historical Society, Vol. VII. pp. 473-486. 
 Portland, 1876. 
 
 26. Discourse at the Semi-centennial anniversary of the 
 
 General Conference of the Congregational 
 Churches in Maine, delivered in Portland, June 
 28, 1876 ; pp. 21. 
 
 27. Memorial Sketch of Nehemiah Cleaveland, pp. 12. 
 
 (Privately printed.) 
 
 28. Remarks at the 150th anniversary of the First 
 
 Church in Yarmouth, pp. 29-34. Portland, 
 1881. 
 
 29. Reminiscences of Bowdoin. Library Magazine. 
 
 Vol. VII. pp. 9-24. February, 1881. 
 
 30. History of Bowdoin College with biographical 
 
92 
 
 ■ sketches of its graduates from 1806 to 1879 in- 
 clusive. By Nehemiah Cleaveland. Edited 
 and completed by Alpheus S. Packard, Boston, 
 1882; pp. 905. 
 
 31. Recollections of Phillips Exeter Academy, 1811. 
 
 Familiar sketches of the Phillips Exeter Acad- 
 emy, by Frank H. Cunningham, Boston, 1883 ; 
 pp. 226-235. 
 
 32. Address at Phillips Exeter Academy. Exercises 
 
 at the Centennial Celebration, June, 1883. Ex- 
 eter, 1884; pp. 5-8. 
 
 II. TRIBUTES TO HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER* 
 
 Hon. William G. Barrows. Letter. Read at the His- 
 torical Society's Celebration. 
 Rev. C. A. Bartol, D.D. Letter. Boston Advertiser, 
 July 17, 1884. 
 
 *It has been thought fitting to briefly mention the various tributes paid 
 to Prof. Pactarcl, by liis numerous friends and pupils, and not included in 
 the preceding pages. The list, however, must not be considered as exhaustive. 
 The compiler has merely noted such as have come beneath his eye. The 
 various Alumni Associations of the college passed at their meetings resolutions 
 of respect, as did also the Maine Historical Society. The personal tributes 
 connected with the latter's celebration of his 84th birthday may be found in 
 the Portland Press of Dec. 25, 1882. 
 
93 
 
 James P. Baxter, Esq. Greeting to the Mentor. A 
 Poem. Read at the Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Hon. S. H. Blake. Letter. Written for the Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Hon. James W. Bradbury. Address. Delivered at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 President P. A. Chadbourne. Letter. Read at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Gen. Joshua L. Chamberlain Address. Delivered at 
 the Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. Henry L. Chapman. Sonnet. Read at the His- 
 torical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. Isaac B. Choate. Sonnet. Boston Advertiser, 
 Dec. 23, 1882. 
 
 Hon. Josiah Crosby. Letter. Read at the Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Frank L. Dingley, Esq. Article in Lewiston Journal 
 of July 14, 1884. 
 
 Edward H. Elwell, Esq. Ode. Sung at the Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Dr. Edward M. Field. Poem. Delivered before the 
 Bowdoin Alumni of Bangor. 
 
 Hon. Wm. P. Frye. Letter. Read at Historical Soci- 
 ety's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. Frederic Gardiner, D.D. Letter. Read at His- 
 torical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. W. W. Goodwin. Obituary Notice. Read be- 
 fore the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. 
 
 Hon. William Goold. Address. Delivered at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
94 
 
 Rev. Cyrus Hamlin, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. Samuel Harris, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. Henry W. Longfellow. In Morituri Salutamus. 
 Read at the Semi-Centennial of the class of 1825. 
 
 Rev. Henry M. King, D.D. Letter. Read at Histor- 
 ical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Isaac McLellan, Esq. Poem. Read at the Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. George F. Magoun, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. Geo. T. Packard. Biographical Sketch in Boston 
 Advertiser of July 14, 1884. 
 
 President G. D. Pepper, D.D. Address. Delivered at 
 the Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Henry Phillips, Jr. Letter. Read at the Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. Geo. L. Prentiss, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. J. S. Sewall, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
 Society's Celebration. 
 
 Prof. J. B. Sewall. Letter. Read at Historical So- 
 ciety's Celebration. 
 
 Rufus K. Sewall, Esq. Letter. Read at the Histori- 
 cal Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. Newman Smyth, D.D. Address Commemorative 
 of Prof. A. S. Packard, D.D. Read before the 
 Bowdoin Alumni Association of New York, Janu- 
 ary 21, 1885. Printed for the Association. 
 
95 
 
 Prof. John B. L. Soule, D.D. Fourscore and four. A 
 Sonnet. Polychords. Chicago, 1882, p. 302. 
 
 Hon. Geo. F. Talbot. Address. Delivered at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. Benjamin Tappan, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Rev. D. D. Tappan. Poem. 
 
 A. G. Tenney, Esq. Article in the Brunswick Tele- 
 graph of July 18, 1884. 
 
 Rev. I. P. Warren, D.D. Letter. Read at the Histor- 
 ical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Hon. Israel Washburn. Letter. Read at the Histor- 
 ical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Hon. Joseph Williamson. Address. Delivered at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
 Mrs. Abba Goold Woolson. Sonnet. Read at the 
 Historical Society's Celebration. 
 
13 190?