mm* ^>-4^ *!^&i<* ^... ^4* ♦w^5^-'_ *V .• %'*^'\<$^ %^^^*\(p %,*^^^' 0* «, 3" ♦ «mo %^wf**j> \^w^\4^^ %*^-*y ... '^<' **% •^ ** ^^v **% XXI. 1903. mti ^oxitf) ileaflets. '^"^^^ RECEIVED, '^'^/^ The World which Emerson Knew. Old South Meettng House, Boston, 1903. ';^ THE OLD SOUTH LEAFLETS. TWENTY-FIRST SERIES, 1903. BOSTON: OLD SOUTH MEETING HOUSE. 1903. By transfer OCT 9 J915 INTRODUCTION. The Old South Leaflets were prepared primarily for circulation among the attendants upon the Old South Lectures for Young People. The subjects of the Leaflets are immediately related to the subjects of the lectures, and they are intended 'o supplement the lectures and stimulate historical interest and inquiry among the young people. They are made up, for the most part, from original papers of the periods treated in the lectures, in the hope to make the men and the public life of the periods more clear and real. The Old South Lectures for Young People were instituted in the sum- mer of 18S3, as a means of promoting a more serious and intelligent atten- tion to historical studies, especially studies in American history among the young people of Boston. The success of the lectures has been so great as to warrant the hope that such courses may be sustained in many other cities of the country. The Old South Lectures for 1S83, intended to be strictly upon subjects in early Massachusetts History, but by certain necessities somewhat modi- fled, were as follows : " Governor Bradford and Governor Winthrop," by Edwin D. Mead. " Plymouth," by Mrs. A. M. Diaz. " Concord," by Frank B. Sanborn. " The Town-meeting," by Prof. James K. Hosmer. " Franklin, the Boston Boy," by George M. Towle. " How to study American History," by Prof. G. Stanley Hall. " The Year 1777," by John Fiske. "History in the Boston Streets," by Edward Everett H.ale. The Leaflets prepared in. connection with these lectures consisted of (i) Cotton Mather's account of Governor Bradford, from the " Magnalia " ; (2) the account of the arrival of the Pilgrims at Cape Cod from Bradford's Journal; (3) an extract from Emerson's Concord Address in 1S35; (4) e.xtracts from Emerson, Samuel Adams, De Tocqueville, and others, upon the Town-meeting; (5) a portion of Franklin's Autobiogra- phy; (6) Carlyle on the Study of History; (7) an extract from Charles Sumner's oration upon Lafayette, etc.; (8) Emerson's poem, "Boston." The lectures for 1SS4 were devoted to men representative of certain epochs or ideas in the history of Boston, as follows : " Sir Harry Vane, in New England and in Old England," by Edward Everett Hale, Jr. " John Harvard, and the Founding of Harvard College," by Edward Channing, Ph.D. "The Mather Family, and the Old Boston Ministers," by Rev. Samuel J. Barrows. " Simon Bradstreet, and the Struggle for the Charter," by Prof. Marshall S. Snow. " Samuel Adams and the Beginning of the Revolution," by Prof. James K. Hosmer. " Josiah Quincy, the Great Mayor," by Charles W. Slack. "Daniel Webster, the Defender of the Constitution," by Charles C. Coffin. " John A: Andrew, the great War Governor," by Col. T. W. Higginson. The Leaflets prepared in connection with the second course were as follows : (i) Selections from Forster's essay on Vane, etc.; (2) an extract from Cotton Mather's " Sal Gentium " ; (3) Increase Mather's "Narrative of the Miseries of New England"; (4) an original account of " The Revolu- tion in New England" in 1689; (5) a letter from Samuel Adams to John Adams, on Republican Government; (6) extracts from Josiah Qumcys Boston Address of 1S30; (7) Words of Webster; (8) a portion of Gover- nor Andrew's Address to the Massachusetts Legislature ni January, ibOi. The lectures for 1SS5 were upon " The War for the Union," as follows^: •'Slavery," by William Lloyd Garrison, Jr. "The Fall of Sumter," by Col T. W. Higginson. "The Monitor and the Mernmac,' by Charles C. Coffin. "The Battle of Gettysburg," by Col. Theodore A DoDGF "Sherman's March to the Sea," by Gen. William Cogswell. "The Sanitary Commission," by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore. " Abraham Lincoln," by Hon. John D. Long. "General Grant," by Charles C. Coffin. The Leaflets accompanying these lectures were as follows : (i) Lowell's " Present Crisis," and Garrison's Salutatory in the Liberator of January i, 1831 ; (2) extract from Henry Ward Beecher's oration at Fort Sumter in 1865; (3) contemporary newspaper accounts of the engagement between the Monitor and the Merrimac ; (4) extract from Edward Everett s address at the consecration of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, with President Lincoln's address; (5) extract from General Sherman's account ■of the March to the Sea, in his Memoirs ; (6) Lowell's " Commemoration Ode"; (7) extract from Lincoln's First Liaugural Address, the Emanci- pation' Proclamation, and the Second Inaugural Address; (8) account of the service in memory of General Grant, in Westminster Abbey, with Arch- deacon Farrar's address. . , , , „ The lectures for 1886 were upon "The War for Independence, as follows: "Samuel Adams and Patrick Henry," by Edwin D. Mead. " Bunker Hill, and the News in England," by John Fiske. " The Declara- tion of Independence," by James MacAllister. "The Times that tried Men's Souls," by Albert B. Hart, Ph.D. " Lafayette, and Help from France" by Prok. Marshall S. Snow. "The Women of the Revolu- tion " by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore. " Washington and his Generals," by George M. Towle. "The Lessons of the Revolution for these Times "by Rev. Brooke Herford. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Words of Patrick Henry; (2) Lord Chatham's Speech, urging the removal of the British troops from Boston; (3) extract from Webster's oration on Adams and Jefferson; (4) Thomas Paine's "Crisis," No. i; (5) extract from Edward Everett's eulogy on Lafayette ; (6) selections from the Letters of Abigail Adams; (7) Lbwell's " Under the Old Elm "; (8) extract from W^hipple's essay on " Washington and the Principles of the Revolution." The course for the summer of 1887 was upon "The Birth of the Nation " as follows : " How the men of the English Commonwealth planned Constitutions," by Prof. James K. Hosmer. "How the American Colo- nies grew together," by John Fiske. "The Confusion after the Revolu- tion '' by Davis R. Dewey, Ph.D. " The Convention and the Constitu- tion'" by Hon. John D. Long. " James Madison and his Journal," by Prof. li. B. Andrews. " How Patrick Henry opposed the Constitution,^^ by Henry L Southwick. "Alexander Hamilton and the Federalist:' "Washington's Part and the Nation's First Years," by Edward Everett Hale The Leaflets prepared for these lectures were as follows: (i) Extract from Edward Everett Hale's lecture on "Puritan Politics in England and New England"; (2) "The English Colonies in Amer'ca " extract from De Tocqueville's "Democracy in America ; (3) Wash- ington's Circular Letter to the Governors of the States on Disbanding the Army; (4) the Constitution of the United States; (5) "The Last Day of the Constitutional Convention," from Madison's Journal; (6) Patnck Henry's First Speech against the Constitution, in the Virginia Convention; (7) the Federalist, Xo. IX.; (S) Washington's First Inaugural Address. The course for the summer of iSSS had the general title of " The Story of the Centuries," the several lectures being as follows : " The Great Schools after the Dark Ages," by Ei'HRAI.m Emerton, Professor of History in Harvard University. " Richard the Lion-hearted and the Crusades," by Miss Nina Moore, author of " Pilgrims and Puritans." " The World which Dante knew," by Shattuck O. Hartwell, Old South first prize essayist, 1883. "The Morning Star of the Reformation," by Rev. Philip S. AIo.xoM. " Copernicus and Columbus, or the New Heaven and the New Earth," by Prof. Edward S. Morse. "The People for whom Shakespeare wrote," by Charles Dudley Warner. " The Puritans and the English Revolution," by Charles H. Levermore, Professor of His- tory in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. " Lafayette and the Two Revolutions which he saw," by George Makepeace Towle. The Old South Lectures are devoted primarily to American history. But it is a constant aim to impress upon the young people the relations of our own history to English and general European history. It was hoped that the glance at some striking chapters in the history of the last eight centuries afforded by these lectures would be a good preparation for the great anniversaries of 1S89, and give the young people a truer feeling of the continuity of history. In connection with the lectures the young people were requested to fix in mind the following dates, observing that in most instances the date comes about a decade before the close of the cen- tury. An effort was made in the Leaflets for the year to make dates, which are so often dull and useless to young people, interesting, significant, and useful. — nth Century: Lanfranc, the great mediaeval scholar, who studied law at Bologna, was prior of the monastery of Bee, the most famous school in France in the lith century, and archbishop of Canterbury under William the Conqueror, died 1089. 12th Cent.: Richard I. crowned ii8g. 13th Cent. : Dante, at the battle of Campaldino, the final overthrow of the Ghibellines in Italy, 1289. 14th Cent.: Wyclif died, 1384. 15th Cent.: America discovered, 1492. i6th Cent.: Spanish Armada, 1588. 17th Cent.: William of Orange lands in England, 1688. 18th Cent.: Washington inaugurated, and the Bastile fell, 1789. The Old South Leaflets for 1S88, corresponding with the several lectures, were as follows : (i) " The Early History of O.xford," from Green's " History of the English People,"; {2) "Richard Coeur de Lion and the Third Crusade," from the Chronicle of Geoffrey de Vinsauf; (3) "The Universal Empire," passages from Dante's De Mcniarchia ; (4) "The Sermon on the Mount," Wyclif's translation ; (5) " Copernicus and the Ancient Astronomers," from Hum- boldt's " Cosmos " ; (6) " The Defeat of the Spanish Armada," from Cam- den's "Annals"; (7) "The Bill of Rights," 16S9; (8) " The Eve of the French Revolution," from Carlyle. The selections are accompanied by very full historical and bibhographical notes, and it is hoped that the series will prove of much service to students and teachers engaged in the general survey of modern history. The year 1SS9 being the centennial both of the beginning of our own Federal government and of the French Revolution, the lectures for the year, under the general title of " America and France," were devoted en- tirely to subjects in which the history of America is related to that of France as follows : " Champlain, the Founder of Quebec," by Charles C. Coffin. " La Salle and the French in the Great West," by Rev. W. E. Griffis. " The Jesuit Missionaries in America," by Prof. James K. HosMER. " Wolfe and Montcalm : The Struggle of England and France for the Continent," by Johx Fiske. " Franklin in France." by George M. Towle. "The Friendship of Washington and Lafayette," by Mrs. Abba Goold Woolsox. " Thomas Jefferson and the Louisiana Purchase," by Robert Morss Lovett, Old South prize essapst, iSSS. "The Year 17S9," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale. The Leaflets for the year were as follows : (i) Verrazzano's account of his Voyage to Amer- ica : (2) Marquette's account of his Discovery of the Mississippi; (3) Mr. Parkman's Histories ; (4) the Capture of Quebec, from Parkman's " Con- spiracy of Pontiac"; (5) selections from Franklin's Letters from France : (6) Letters of Washington and Lafayette; (7) the Declaration of Inde- pendence ; (S) the French Declaration of the Rights of Man, 17S9. The lectures for the summer of 1S90 were on "The American Indians,'" as follows : " The Mound Builders." by Prof. George H. Perkins. '• The Indians whom our Fathers Found," by Gen. H. B. Carrixgtox. " John Eliot and his Indian Bible," by Rev. Edward G. Porter. " King PhiUp's War," by Miss Caroline C. Stecker, Old South prize essaj-ist, 1SS9. "The Conspiracy of Pontiac," by Charles A. Eastmax, M.D., of the Sioux nation. " A Century of Dishonor," by Herbert Welsh. " Among the Zunis," by J. Walter Fewkes, Ph.D. " The Indian at School," by Gex, S. C. Armstrong. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) extract from address by William Henry Harrison on the Mound Builders of the Ohio Valley ; (2) extract from Morton's " Xew English Canaan " on the Manners and Customs of the Indians ; (3) John Eliot's " Brief Xarrative of the Prog- ress of the Gospel among the Indians of Xew England," 1670; (4) extract from Hubbard's " Xarrative of the Troubles with the Indians " (1677) on the Beginning of King Philip's War; (5) the Speech of Pontiac at the Council at the River Ecorces, from Parkman's " Conspiracy of Pontiac"; (6) extract from Black Hawk's autobiography, on the cause of the Black Hawk War; {7) Coronado's Letter to Mendoza (1540) on his Explorations in Xew Mexico; (8) Eleazar Wheelock's Xarrative (1762) of the Rise and Progress of the Indian School at Lebanon, Conn. The lectures for 1891, under the general title of "The Xew Birth of the World." were devoted to the important movements in the age preceding the discovery of America, the several lectures being as follows : " The Results of the Crusades," by F. E. E. Hamilton", Old South prize essay- ist, 18S3. " The Revival of Learning," by Prof. Albert B. Hart. " The Builders of the Cathedrals," by Prof. Marshall S. Snow. " The Changes which Gunpowder made," by ?^rank A. Hill. " The Decline of the Barons," by William Everett. " The Invention of Printing," by Rev. Edward G. Porter. " When Michel Angelo was a Boy," by Hamlix Garl.\xd. " The Discovery of America," by Rev. E. E. Hale. The Leaflets were as follows: (1) "The Capture of Jerusalem by the Cru- saders," from the Chronicle of William of Malmesburj- ; (2) extract from More's "Utopia"; (3) " The Founding of Westminster Abbey," from Dean Stanley's " Historical Memorials of Westminster Abbey " ; (4) " The Siege of Constantinople," from Gibbon's " Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"; (5) "Simon de Montfort," selections from Chronicles of the time ; (6) " Caxton at Westminster," extract from Blade's Life of William Caxton ; (7) " The Youth of Michel Angelo," from Vasari's " Lives of the Italian Painters"; (8) " The Discovery of America," from Ferdinand Colum- bus's life of his father. The lectures for 1892 were upon "The Discovery of America," as fol- lows : "What Men knew of the World before Columbus," by Prof. Edward S. Morse. " Leif Erikson and the Northmen," by Rev. Edward A. HoRTOX. "Marco Polo and his Book," by Mr. O. W. Dimmick. "The Story of Columbus," by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore. " Americus Vespucius and the Early Books about America," by Rev. E. G. Porter. "Cortes and Pizarro," by Prof. Chas. H. Levermore. " De Soto and Ponce de Leon," by Miss Ruth Ballou Whittemore, Old South prize essayist, 1891. " Spain, France, and England in America," by Mr. John Fiske. The Leaflets were as follows : (i) Strabo's Introduction to Geog- raphy; (2) The Voyages to Vinland, from the Saga of Eric the Red; (3) Marco Polo's account of Japan and Java; (4) Columbus's Letter to Gabriel Sanchez, describing his First Voyage; (5) Amerigo Vespucci's account of his First Voyage; (6) Cortes's account of the City of Mexico; (7) the Death of De Soto, from the "Narrative of a Gentleman of Elvas " ; (8) Early Notices of the Voyages of the Cabots. The lectures for 1893 were upon " The Opening of the Great West," as follows: "Spain and France in the Great West," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis. "The North-west Territory and the Ordinajice of 1787," by JoHX M. Merriam. " Washington's Work in Opening the West," by Edwin D. Mead. " Marietta and the Western Reserve," by Miss Lucy W. Warren, Old South prize essayist, 1S92. " How the Great West was settled," by Charles C. Coffin. "Lewis and Clarke and the Explorers of the Rocky Mountains," by Rev. Thomas Van Ness. " California and Oregon," by Prof. Josiah Royce. " The Story of Chicago," by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) De Vaca's account of his Journey to New Mexico, 1535; (2) Manasseh Cutler's De- scription of Ohio, 1787 ; (3) Washington's Journal of his Tour to the Ohio, 1770; (4) Garfield's Address on the North-west Territory and the Western Reserve ; (5) George Rogers Clark's account of the Capture of Vincennes, 1779; (6) Jefferson's Life of Captain Meriwether Lewis; (7) Fremont's account of his Ascent of Fremont's Peak ; (8) Father Marquette at Chi- cago, 1673. The lectures for 1S94 were upon "The Founders of New England," as follows : " William Brewster, the Elder of Plymouth," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale. " William Bradford, the Governor of Plymouth," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis. " John Winthrop, the Governor of Massachusetts," by Hon. Frederic T. Greenhalge. " John Harvard, and the Founding of Harvard College," by Mr. William R. Thayer. " John Eliot, the Apostle to the Indians," by Rev. James De Normandie. " John Cotton, the Minister of Boston," by Rev. John Cotton Brooks. " Roger Williams, the Founder of Rhode Island," by President E. Benjamin Andrews. " Thomas Hooker, the Founder of Connecticut," by Rev. Joseph H. Twichell. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Brad- ford's Memoir of Elder Brewster; (2) Bradford's First Dialogue; (3) Winthrop's Conclusions for the Plantation in New England ; (4) New England's First Fruits, 1643; (5) John Eliot's Indian Grammar Begun; (6) John Cotton's "God's Promise to his Plantation"; (7) Letters of Roger Williams to Winthrop; (S) Thomas Hooker's "Way of the Churches of New England." The lectures for 1895 were upon " The Puritans in Old England," as follows : "John Hooper, the First Puritan," by Edwin D. Mead; " Cam- bridge, the Puritan University," by William Everett; "Sir John Eliot and the House of Commons," by Prof. Albert B. Hart ; " John Hamp- den and the Ship Money," by Rev. F. W. Gunsaulus; "John Pym and the Grand Remonstrance," by Rev. John Cuckson ; " Oliver Cromwell and the Commonwealth," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale; "John Milton, the Puritan Poet," by John Fiske ; " Henry Vane in Old England and New England," by Prof. James K. Hosmer. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) The English Bible, selections from the various versions; (2) Hooper's Letters to Bullinger; (3) Sir John Eliot's "Apology for Soc- rates"; (4) Ship-money Papers ; (5) Pym's Speech against Strafford; (6) Cromwell's Second Speech ; {7) Milton's " Free Commonwealth " ; (S) Sir Henry Vane's Defence. The lectures for 1896 were upon " The American Historians," as follows : "Bradford and Winthrop and their Journals," by Mr. Edwin D. Mead; "Cotton Mather and his ' Magnalia,' " by Prof. Barrett Wendell; " Governor Hutchinson and his History of Massachusetts," by Prof. Charles H. Levermore ; " Washington Irving and his Services for American History," by Mr. Richard Burton ; " Bancroft and his His- tory of the United States," by Pres. Austin Scott; " Prescott and his Spanish Histories," by Hon. Roger Wolcott; " Motley and his History of the Dutch Republic," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis; " Parkman and his Works on France in America," by Mr. John Fiske. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Winthrop's " Little Speech " on Liberty; (2) Cotton Mather's " Bostonian Ebenezer," from the " Magnalia " ; (3) Governor Hutchinson's account of the Boston Tea Party ; (4) Adrian Van der Donck's Description of the New Netherlands in 1655; (5) The Debate in the Constitutional Convention on the Rules of Suffrage in Congress ; (6) Columbus's Memorial to Ferdinand and Isabella, on his Second Voyage ; (7) The Dutch Declaration of Independence in 1581 ; (8) Captain John Knox's account of the Battle of Quebec. The last five of these eight Leaflets illustrate the original material in which Irving, Bancroft, Prescott, Motley, and Parkman worked in the preparation of their histories. The lectures for 1897 were upon "The Anti-slavery Struggle," as follows : " William Lloyd Garrison, or Anti-slavery in the Newspaper," by William Lloyd Garrison, Jr.; "Wendell Phillips, or Anti-slavery on ihe Platform," by Wendell Phillips Stafford; "Theodore Parker, or Anti-slavery in the Pulpit," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale ; " John G. Whittier, or Anti-slavery in the Poem," by Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer ; " Harriet Beecher Stowe, or Anti-slavery in the Story," by Miss Maria L. Baldwin ; " Charles Sumner, or Anti-slavery in the Senate," by Moorfield Storey; "John Brown, or Anti-slavery on the Scaffold," by Frank B. Sanborn; "Abraham Lincoln, or Anti-slavery Trium- phant," by Hon. John D. Long. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) The First Number of T//e Liberator ; (2) Wendell Phillips's Eulogy of Garrison ; (3) Theodore Parker's Address on the Dangers from Slavery ; (4) Whittier's account of the Anti-slavery Convention of 1S33; (5) Mrs. Stowe's Story of "Uncle Tom's Cabin"; (6) Sumner's Speech on the Crime against Kansas ; (7) Words of John Brown ; (8) The First Lincoln and Douglas Debate. The lectures for 1898 were upon " The Old World in the New," as follows: "What Spain has done for America," by Rev. Edward G. Porter ; " What Italy has done for America," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis ; " What France has done for America," by Prof. Jean Charle- Magxe Bracq ; " What England has done for America," by Miss Kath- arine CoMAN ; "What Ireland has done for America," by Prof. F. Spencer Baldwin; "What Holland has done for America," by Mr. Edwin D. Mead; "What Germany has done for America," by Miss Anna B. Thompson ; " What Scandinavia has done for America," by Mr. Joseph P. Warren. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Account of the Founding of St. Augustine, by Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales; (2) Amerigo Vespucci's Account of his Third Voyage; (3) Champlain's Ac- count of the Founding of Quebec; (4) Barlowe's Account of the First Voyage to Roanoke; (5) Parker's Account of the Settlement of London- derry, N.H. ; (6) Juet's Account of the Discovery of the Hudson River; (7) Pastorius's Description of Pennsylvania, 1700: (8) Acrelius's Account of the Founding of New Sweden. The lectures for 1S99 were upon "The Life and Influence of Washing- ton," as follows: "Washington in the Revolution," by Mr. John Fiske; "Washington and the Constitution," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale; "Washington as President of the United States," by Rev. Albert E. WiNSHiP; "Washington the True Expander of the Republic," by Mr. Edwin D. Mead ; " Washington's Interest in Education," by Hon. Alfred S. Roe; "The Men who worked with Washington," by Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer; "Washington's Farewell Address," by Rev. Franklin Hamilton; "What the World has thought and said of Washington," by Prof. Edwin A. Grosvenor. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Washington's Account of the Army at Cambridge in 1775; (2) Washington's Letters on the Constitution; (3) Washington's Inaug- urals; (4) Washington's Letter to Benjamin Harrison in 17S4; (5) Wash- ington's Words on a National University; (6) Letters of Washington and Lafayette; (7) Washington's Farewell Address; (8) Henry Lee's Funeral Oration on Washington. The lectures for 1900 were upon "The United States in the Nine- teenth Century," as follows: "Thomas Jefferson, the First Nineteenth- century President," by Edwin D. Mead; "The Opening of the Great West," by Rev. William E. Barton ; " Webster and Calhoun, or the Nation and the States," by Prof. S. M. Macvane; "Abraham Lincoln and the Struggle with Slavery," by Rev. Charles G. Ames; " Steam and Electricity, from Fulton to Edison," by Prof. F. Spencer Baldwin; "The Progress of Education in the Nineteenth Century," by Mr. Frank A. Hill; "The American Poets," by Mrs. May Alden Ward; "America and the World," by Hon. John L. Bates. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) Jefferson's Inaugurals; (2) Account of Louisiana in 1803; (3) Calhoun on the Government of the United States ; (4) Lincoln's Cooper Institute Address; (5) Chancellor Livingston on the Invention of the Steamboat; (6) Horace Mann's Address on the Ground of the Free School System; (7) Rufus Choate's Address on the Romance of New England History; (8) Kossuth's First Speech in Faneuil Hall. The lectures for 1901 were upon "The English Exploration of America," as follows : "John Cabot and the First English Expedition to America," by Prof. Charles H. Levermore; "Hawkins and Drake in the West Indies," by Mr. Joseph P. Warren; "Martin Frobisher and the Search for the North-west Passage," by Prof. Marshall S. Snow; " Sir Hum- phrey Gilbert and his Expedition to Newfoundland," by Mr. Ray Greene Ruling; "Sir Walter Raleigh and the Story of Roanoke," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale; "Bartholomew Gosnold and the Story of Cuttyhunk," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis ; "Captain John Smith in Virginia and New England," by Hox. Alfred >S. Roe ; " Richard Hak- luyt and his Books about the English Explorers," by Mr. Milan C. Ayres. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) John Cabot's Discovery of North America; (2) Sir Francis Drake on the Coast of California; (3) Frobish- er's First Voyage ; (4) Sir Humphrey Gilbert's Expedition to Ne^^•found- land ; (5) Raleigh's First Roanoke Colony; (6) Gosnold's Settlement at Cuttyhunk; (7) Captain John Smith's Description of New England; (8) Richard Hakluyt's Discourse on Western Planting. The lectures for 1902 were upon " How the United States Grew," as follows : " The Old Thirteen Colonies," by Hon. John D. Long ; " George Rogers Clark and the North-west Territory," by Prof. Albert B. Hart; " How Jefferson bought Louisiana from Napoleon," by Rev. George Hodges ; "The Story of Florida," by Rev. William Elliot Griffis; " The Lone Star State," by Hon. John L. Bates ; " The Oregon Country," by Rev. Samuel A. Eliot ; " The Mexican War and What Came of It," by Prof. F. Spencer Baldwin; " Alaska in 1S67 and 1902," by Mr. George G. Wolkins. The Leaflets were as follows : (i) Brissot's Account of Boston in 17S8 ; (2) The Ordinance of 1784 ; (3) The Cession of Louisiana ; (4) Monroe's Messages on Florida ; (5) Captain Potter's Account of the Fall of the Alamo ; (6) Porter's Account of the Discovery of the Colum- bia River; (7) Sumner's Report on the War with Mexico; (8) Seward's Address on Alaska. The lectures for 1903 were upon "The World which Emerson knew," as follows: "The Boston into which Emerson was born," by Mr. Edwin D. Mead; "The Latin School and Harvard College a Century Ago," by Rev. Edward Everett Hale; " Emerson in Concord : The Citizen and the Neighbor,"'by Rev. Loren B. Macdonald ; "Emerson's Friends and Fellow-workers," by Mr. George Willis Cooke; "Emerson in Europe, and the Men whom he met," by Rev. John Cuckson ; "The Lecturer, the Essayist, and the Poet," by Mr. John Tetlow ; " The Anti-slavery Striiggle and the Civil War," by Rev. Charles G. Ames; "A Century from the Birth of Emerson," by Lieut. Governor Curtis Guild, Jr. The Leaflets were as follows: (i) William Emerson's Fourth of July Oration, 1802; (2) James G. Carter's Account of the Schools of Massa- chusetts in 1824; (3) President Dwight's Account of Boston at the Be- ginning of the Nineteenth Century; (4) Selections from the First Number of The Dial ; (5) Alexander Ireland's Recollections of Emerson; (6) The American Lyceum, 1829; (7) Samuel Hoar's Account of his Expulsion from Charleston in 1844; (S) Channing's Essay on National Literature, 1S30. The Old South Leaflets, which have been published during the years since 1883 in connection with these annual courses of historical lectures at the Old South Meeting-house, have attracted so much attention and proved of so much service that the Directors have entered upon the pub- lication of the Leaflets for general circulation, with the needs of schools, colleges, private clubs, and classes especially in mind. The Leaflets are prepared by Mr. Edwin D. Mead. They are largely reproductions of im- portant original papers, accompanied by useful historical and bibliographi- cal notes. They consist, on an average, of twenty pages, and are sold at the low price of five cents a copy, or four dollars per hundred. The aim is to bring them within easy reach of everybody. The Old South Work, founded by Mrs. Mary Hemenway, and still sustained by provision of her will, is a work for the education of the people, and especially the education of our young people, in American history and politics ; and its promoters believe that few things can contribute better to this end than the wide cir- culation of such leaflets as those now undertaken. It is hoped that pro- fessors in our colleges and teachers everywhere will welcome them for use in their classes, and that they may meet the needs of the societies of young men and women now happily being organized in so many places for his- torical and political studies. Some idea of the character of these Old South Leaflets may be gained from the following list of the subjects of the numbers which are now ready. It will be noticed that most of the later numbers are the same as certain numbers in the annual series. Since 1890 they are essentially the same, and persons ordering the Leaflets need simply observe the following numbers. No. 1. The Constitution of the United States. 2. The Articles of Confederation. 3. The Declaration of Independence. 4. Washington's Farewell Address. 5. Magna Charta. 6. Vane's " Healing Question." 7. Charter of Massachusetts Bay, 1629. 8. Fundamental Orders of Con- necticut, 1638. 9. Franklin's Plan of Union, 1754. 10. Washington's Inaugurals. 11. Lincoln's Inaugurals and Emancipation Proclamation. 12. The Federalist, Nos. i and 2. 13. The Ordinance of 1787. 14. The Constitution of Ohio. 15. Washington's Circular Letter to the Govern- ors of the States, 1783. 16. Washington's Letter to Benjamin Harrison, 1784. 17. Verrazzano's Voyage, 1524. 18. The Constitution of Switz- erland. 19. The Bill of Rights, 16S9. 20. Coronado's Letter to Men- doza, 1540. 21. Eliot's Brief Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel among the Indians, 1670. 22. Wheelock's Narrative of the Rise of the Indian School at Lebanon, Conn., 1762. 23. The Petition of Rights, 1628. 24. The Grand Remonstrance. 25. The Scottish National Covenants. 26. The Agreement of the People. 27. The Instrument of Government. 28. Cromwell's First Speech to his Parliament. 29. The Discovery of America, from the Life of Columbus, by his son, Ferdinand Columbus. 30. Strabo's Introduction to Geography. 31. The Voyages to Vinland, from the Saga of Eric the Red. 32. Marco Polo's Account of Japan and Java. 33. Columbus's Letter to Gabriel Sanchez, describing the First Voyage and Discovery. 34. Amerigo Vespucci's Account of his First Voyage. 35. Cortes's Account of the City of Me.xico. 36. The Death of De Soto, from the " Narrative of a Gentleman of Elvas." 37. Early Notices of the Voyages of the Cabots. 38. Henry Lee's Funeral Oration on Washington. 39. De Vaca's Account of hia Journey to New Mexico, 1535. 40. Manasseh Cutler's Description of Ohio, 1787. 41. Wash- ington's Journal of his Tour to the Ohio, 1770. 42. Garfield's Address on the North-west Territory and the Western Reserve. 43. George Rogers Clark's Account of the Capture of Vincennes, 1779. 44. Jefferson's Life of Captain Meriwether Lewis. 45. Fremont's Account of his Ascent of Fremont's Peak. 46. Father Marquette at Chicago, 1673. ^^^ ■ Washing- ton's Account of the Army at Cambridge, 1775. 48. Bradford's Memoir of Elder Brewster. 49. Bradford's First Dialogue. 50. Winthrop's " Con- clusions for the Plantation in New England." 51. " New England's First Fruits," 1643. S2. John Eliot's "Indian Grammar Begun." 53. John Cotton's " God's Promise to his Plantation." 54. Letters of Roger Will- iams to Winthrop. 55. Thomas Hooker's " Way of the Churches of New England." 56. The Monroe Doctrine : President Monroe's Message of 1823. 57 The English Bible, selections from the various versions. 58. Hooper's Letters to Bullinger. 59. Sir John Eliot's " Apology for Soc- rates." 60. Ship-money Papers. 61. Pym's Speech against Strafford. 62. Cromwell's Second Speech. 63. Milton's "A Free Commonwealth." 64. Sir Henry Vane's Defence. 65. Washington's Addresses to the Churches. 66. Winthrop's "Little Speech" on Liberty. 67. Cotton Mather's " Bostonian Ebenezer," from the " Magnalia." 68. Governor Hutchinson's Account of the Boston Tea Party. 69. Adrian Van der Donck's Description of New Netherlands in 1655. "^^^ ^^^ Debate in the Constitutional Convention on the Rules of Suffrage in Congress. 71. Columbus's Memorial to Ferdinand and Isabella, on his Second Voyage. 72. The Dutch Declaration of Independence in 1 58 1. 73. Captain John Knox's Account of the Battle of Quebec. 74. Hamilton's Report on the Coinage. 75. William Penn's Plan for the Peace of Europe. 76. Washington's Words on a National University. 77. Cotton Mather's Lives of Bradford and W^inthrop. 78. The First Number of T/ie Liber- ator. 79. W'endell Phillips's Eulogy of Garrison. 80. Theodore Par- ker's Address on the Dangers from Slavery. 81. Whittier's Account of the Anti-slavery Convention of 1833. 82. Mrs. Stowe's Story of " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 83. Sumner's Speech on the Crime against Kansas. 84. The W^ords of John Brown. 85. The First Lincoln and Douglas Debate. 86. Washington's Account of his Capture of Boston. 87. The Manners and Customs of the Indians, from Morton's "New English Canaan." 88. The Beginning of King Philip's War, from Hubbard's History of Philip's War, 1677. 89. Account of the Founding of St. Augustine, by Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales. 90. Amerigo Vespucci's Account of his Third Voyage. 91. Champlain's Account of the Founding of Quebec. 92. Barlowe's Account of the First Voyage to Roanoke. 93. Parker's Account of the Settlement of Londonderry, N.H. 94. Juet's Account of the Discovery of the Hudson River. 95. Pastorius's Description of Pennsylvania, 1700. 96. Acrelius's Account of the Founding of New Sweden. 97. Lafayette in the American Revolution. 98. Letters of W'ashington and Lafayette. 99. Washington's Letters on the Constitu- tion. 100. Robert Browne's " Reformation without Tarrying for Any.'' 101. Grotius's " Rights of War and Peace." 102. Columbus's Account of Cuba. 103. John Adams's Inaugural. 104. Jefferson's Inaugurals. 105. Account of Louisiana in 1803. 106. Calhoun on the Government of the United States. 107. Lincoln's Cooper Institute Address. 108. Chancellor Livingston on the Invention of the Steamboat. 109. Horace Mann's Address on the Ground of the Free School System. 110. Rufus Choate's Address on the Romance of New England History. 111. Kos- suth's First Speech in Faneuil Hall. 112. King Alfred's Description of Europe. 113. Augustine in England. 114. The Hague Arbitration Treaty. 115. John Cabot's Discovery of North America. 116. Sir Francis Drake on the Coast of California. 117. Frobisher's First Voy- age. 118. Sir Humphrey Gilbert's Expedition to Newfoundland. 119. Raleigh's First Roanoke Colony. 120. Gosnold's Settlement at Cutty- hunk. 121. Captain John Smith's Description of New England. 122. Richard Hakluyt's Discourse on Western Planting. 123. Selections from Dante's " Monarchia." 124. Selections from More's " Utopia." 125. Wyclif's English Bible. 126. Brissot's Account of Boston in 17SS. 127. The Ordinance of 1784. 128. The Cession of Louisiana. 129. Monroe's Messages on Florida. 130. Captain Potter's Account of the 13 Fall of the Alamo. 131. Porter's Account of the Discovery of the Columbia River. 132. Sumner's Report on the War with Mexico. 133. Seward's Address on Alaska. 134. William Emerson's Fourth of July Oration, 1802. 135. James G. Carter's Account of the Schools of Massa- chusetts in 1824. 136. President Dwight's Account of Boston at the Be- ghining of the Nineteenth Century. 137. Selections from the First Number of The Dial. 138. Alexander Ireland's Recollections of Emer- son. 139. The American Lyceum, 1829. 140. Samuel Hoar's Ac- count of his Expulsion from Charleston in 1844. 141. Channing's Essay on Natural Literature, 1830. The leaflets, which are sold at five cents a copy or four dollars per hundred, are also furnished in bound volumes, each volume containing twenty-five leaflets: Vol. i., Nos. 1-25 ; Vol. ii., 26-50 ; Vol. ill., 51-75 ; Vol. iv., 76-100; Vol. v., 101-125. Price per volume, $1.50. Title- pages with table of contents will be furnished to all purchasers of the leaflets who wish to bind them for themselves. Annual series of eight leaflets each, in paper covers, 50 cents a volume. Address DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston. It is hoped that this list of Old South Lectures and Leaflets will meet the needs of many clubs and classes engaged in the study of history, as well as the needs of individual students, serving as a table of topics. The subjects of the lectures in the various courses will be found to have a logical sequence ; and the leaflets accompanying the several lectures can be used profitably in connection, containing as they do full historical notes and references to the best literature on the subjects of the lectures. OLD SOUTH ESSAYS, 1881-1903. The Old South prizes for the best essays on subjects in American his- tory were first offered by Mrs. Hemenway in 1881, and they have been awarded regularly in each successive year since. The competition is open to all graduates of the various Boston high schools in the current year and the preceding year. Two subjects are proposed each year, forty dollars being awarded for the best essay on each of the subjects named, and twenty-five dollars for the second best, — in all, four prizes. The first prize essay for 18S1, on "The Policy of the early Colonists of Massachusetts toward Quakers and Others whom they regarded as In- truders," by Henry L. Southwick, and one of the first-prize essays for 1889, on " Washington's Interest in Education," by Miss Caroline C. Stecker, have been printed, and can be procured at the Old South Meeting- house. Another of the prize essays on " ^Yashington's Interest in Educa- tion," by Miss Julia K. Ordway, was published in the New England Maga- zine, for May, 1890; one of the first-prize essays for 1890, on "Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh," by Miss Caroline C. Stecker, appeared in the N'ew England Magazine for September, 1891 ; one of the first-prize essays for 1891, on " Marco Polo's Explorations in Asia and their Influence upon Columbus," by Miss Helen P. Margesson, in the number for August, 1S92; one for 1893, on "The Part of Massachusetts Men in the Ordinance of 1787," by Miss Ehzabeth H. Tetlow, in March, 1S95; one for 1S98, on " The Struggle of France and England for North America," by Caroline B. Shaw, in January, 1900 ; and one for 1901, on "Early Explorations of the New England Coast," by Hyman Askowith, in March, 1903. The Old South essayists of these years now number over two hun- dred ; and they naturally represent the best historical scholarship of their successive years in the Boston high schools. They have been organized into an Old South Historical Society, which holds monthly meetings for the reading of papers and general discussion. The meetings of the society for the season of 1896-97 were devoted to the study of the Anti-slavery Struggle. The general subject for the season of 1897-9S was "The Heri- tage of Slavery," taking up reconstruction, the education of the freedmen, etc. The subject for 1898-99 was " The History of the Spanish Power in America." The 1899-1900 studies were of " Economic and Social Forces in Massachusetts to 1800." The courses for 1900-1901 and 1901-1902 were on "The Puritan Movement." The course for 1902-1903 was on varioiis movements in the United States during the nineteenth century. The society has also instituted annual historical pilgrimages, in which it invites the young people of Boston and vicinity to join. Its first pilgrim- age, in 1896, was to old Rutland, Mass., " the cradle of Ohio." Its second pilgrimage, June, 1897, in which six hundred joined, was to the homes of Whittier by the Merrimack. The third pilgrimage, June, 1898, joined in by an equal number, was to the King Philip Country, Mount Hope, R.I. The 1899 pilgrimage was to Plymouth. The 1900 pilgrimage was to New- buryport. The 1901 pilgrimage was to Newport. The 1902 pilgrimage was to Portsmouth. The 1903 pilgrimage was again to the Whittier country. The subjects of the Old South essays from 1881 to 1903 are given below, in the hope that they will prove suggestive and stimulating to other stu- dents and societies. It will be observed that the subjects of the later essays are closely related to the subjects of the lectures for the year. 15 1 88 1. What was the poHcy of the early colonists of Massachusetts toward Quakers and others whom they regarded as intruders ? Was this policy in any respect objectionable, and, if so, what excuses can be offered for it ? Why did the American colonies separate from the mother country? Did the early settlers look forward to any such separation, and, if not, how and when did the wish for it grow up? What was the difference between the form of government which they finally adopted and that under which they had before been living ? 1S82. Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain boys; or, the early history of the New Hampshire grant, afterward called Vermont. The town meeting in the Old South Meeting-house on July 22 and 28, 1774- 1SS3. The right and wrong of the policy of the United States toward the North American Indians. What were the defects of the "Articles of Confederation" between the United States, and why was the " Constitution of the United States " sub- stituted ? 18S4. W^hy did the Pilgrim Fathers come to New England? The struggle to maintain the Massachusetts charter, to its final loss in 16S4. Discuss the relation of the struggle to the subsequent struggle of the colonies for independence. 1S85. Slavery as it once prevailed in Massachusetts. The " States Rights " doctrine in New England, with special reference to the Hartford Convention. 1 886. The Boston town meetings and their influence in the American Revolution. English opinion upon the American Revolution preceding and during the Avar. 18S7. The Albany Convention of 1754, its history and significance, with reference to previous and subsequent movements toward union in the colonies. Is a Congress of two houses or a Congress of one house the better? What was said about it in the Constitutional Convention, and what is to be said about it to-day ? 1SS8. England's part in the Crusades, and the influence of the Crusades upon the development of English liberty- The political thought of Sir Henry Vane. Consider Vane's relations to Cromwell and his influence upon America. 1589. The influence of French political thought upon America during the period of the American and French Revolutions. Washington's interest in the cause of education. Consider especially his project of a national university. 1590. Efforts for the education of the Indians in the American colonies before the Revolution. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh : discuss their plans for Indian union and compare their characters. 1591. The introduction of printing into England by William Caxton, and its effects upon English literature and life. Marco Polo's explorations in Asia, and their influence upon Columbus. 1592. The native races of Mexico, and their civilization at the time of the conquest by Cortes. English explorations in America during the century following the dis- covery by Columbus. i6 1893. The part taken by Massachusetts men in connection with the Ordinance of 1787. Coronado and the early Spanish explorations of New Mexico. 1894. The relations of the founders of New England to the Univer- sities of Cambridge and Oxford. The Fundamental Orders of Connecticut and their place in the history of written constitutions. 1S95. New England politics as affected by the changes in England from 1629 to 1692, the dates of the two Massachusetts charters. The character of Cromwell as viewed by his contemporaries. Consider especially the tributes of Milton and Marvell. 1896. Early historical writings in America, from Capta/*^ John Smith to Governor Hutchinson. The Harvard historians, and the services x)f Harvard University for American history. 1897. The history of slavery in the Northern States and of Anti-sla- very Sentiment in the South before the Civil War. The Anti-slavery movement in American literature. 1898. The Struggle of France and England for North America, from the founding of Quebec by Champlain till the capture of Quebec bj' Wolfe. The History of Immigration to the United States from the close of the Revolution to the present time. Consider the race and character of the immigrants in the earlier and later periods. 1S99. The American Revolution under Washington and the English Revolution imder Cromwell: Compare their Causes, Aims, and Results. Washington's Plan for a National University: The Argument for it a Hundred Years Ago and the Argument To-day. * 1900. The Monroe Doctrine: Its History and Purpose. Longfellow's Poetry of America: His Use of American Subjects and his Services for American History. 1901. The Explorations of the New England Coast previous to the landing of the Pilgrims in 1620, with special reference to the early maps. The Services of Richard Hakluyt in promoting the English coloniza- tion of America. 1902. The Political History of the Louisiana Territory, from the Treaty of Paris in 1763 to the Admission of Louisiana as a State in 181 2. Explorations beyond the Mississippi, from the Discovery of the Colum- bia River by Captain Gray to the Last Expedition under Fremont. 1903. The Works of Emerson in their Reference to American History, — the Colonial period, the period of the Revolution, and the period of the Anti-slavery Struggle and the Civil War. The Condition of Public Education in Massachiisetts at the Beginning of the Nineteenth Century. No. 134. Fourth of July Oration. 1802. By rev. WILLIAM EMERSON. Delivered at Faneuil Hall, Boston, July 5, 1802. It is the glory of nations, as it is of individuals, to increase in wisdom as they advance in age, and to guide their concerns not so much by the result of abstract reasoning as by the dictates of experience. But this glory is no more the uniform felicity of ancient states than of their ancient citizens. In the eighteenth century, the British nation had existed thirteen hundred years ; seen ages roll away with wrecks of empires ; marked thousands of experiments in the science and the art of civil government ; and had risen to a lofty height of im- provement, of freedom, and of happiness. It was yet the mis- fortune and the disgrace of this kingdom, so famous in the annals of modern Europe, to war with the principles of her own constitution, and to tread with presumptuous step the dangerous path of innovation and unrighteousness. This sentiment will be vindicated by considering, as on this occasion we are bound " to consider, the feelings, manners, and principles which led to the declaration of American Indepen- dence, as well as the important and happy effects, whether gen- eral or domestic, which have already flowed, or will forever flow, from the auspicious epoch of its date." In assisting your performance of this annual duty, my fellow-citizens, I claim the privilege granted to your former orators, of holding forth the language of truth ; and I humbly solicit a favor, of which they had no need, the most liberal exercise of your ingenuousness and benevolence. 185 The feelings of Americans were always the feelings of free- men. Those venerable men from whom you boast your descent brought with them to these shores an unconquerable sense of liberty. They felt that mankind were universally entitled to be free ; that this freedom, though moditied by the restrictions of social compact, could yet never be annulled ; and that slavery in any of its forms is an execrable monster, whose breath is poison and whose grasp is death. Concerning this liberty, however, they entertained no romantic notions. They neither sought nor wished the freedom of an irrational, but that of a rational being ; not the freedom of savages, not the freedom of anchorites, but that of civihzed and social man. Their doc- trine of equality was admitted by sober understandings. It was an equality not of wisdom, but of right ; not a parity of power, but of obligation. They felt and advocated a right to personal security, to the fruits of their ingenuity and toil, to reputation, to choice of mode in the worship of God, and to such a liberty of action as consists with the safety of others and the integrity of the laws. Of rights like these your ancestors cherished a love border- ing on reverence. They had inhaled it with their natal air ; it formed the bias and the boast of their minds and indehbly stamped ihe features of their character. In their eyes honor had no allurement, wealth no value, and existence itself no charms, unless liberty crowned the possession of these blessings. It was for the enjoyment of this ecclesiastic and political liberty that they encountered the greatest dangers and suffered the sharpest calamities. For this they had rived the enchanting bonds which unite the heart to its native country, braved the terror of unknown seas, exchanged the sympathies and inter- course of fondest friendships for the hatred and wiles of the barbarian, and all the elegancies and joys of polished life for a miserable sustenance in an horrible desert. It was impossible for descendants of such men not to inherit an abhorrence of arbitrary power. Numerous circumstances strengthened the emotion. They had never been taught that property acquires title by labor ; and they were conscious of having expended much of the one for little of the other. They were thence naturally tenacious of what they possessed, and conceived that no human power might legally diminish it without their consent. They had also sprung from a com- mercial people, and they inhabited a country which opened 3 to commerce the most luxuriant prospects. Of course, prop- erty with them was an object of unusual importance. In- habitants of other regions might place their liberty in the election of their governors ; but Americans placed it in the control of their wealth, and to them it was a matter of even less consequence who wore the robes of office or held the sword of justice than who had the power of filling the treasury and appropriating its contents. The resolves and attempts, therefore, of the British government to raise an American revenue they viewed as a thrust at their liberties. By these measures they felt themselves wronged, vilified, and insulted. If they acknowledged the pretended right of parliament to bind them in all cases whatever, it cleft, like a ball of lightning, the tree of colonial liberty, giving its foliage to the winds and its fruit to the dust. There was no joy which it did not wither,, no hope which it did not blight. An angry cloud of adversity hung over every department of social life. Demands of business, offices of love, and rites of religion were in some sort suspended, and the earliest apprehensions of the Ameri- can infant were those of servitude and wretchedness. Such were the feelings which impelled resistance of Great Britain and the rejection of her authority. They were the feelings of men who were vigilant of the rights of human nature, of free- men whose liberties had been outraged, of patriots determined never to survive the honor of their country. American independence was also induced by American manners. The planters of this western world, especially of New England, were eminent for the purity and lustre of their morals. They were industrious from choice, necessity, and habit. Their mode of living rendered them abstinent from enervating pleasures and patient of toil. The difficulties of subduing a rough wilderness, the severities of their climate, and the rigor of paternal discipline were almost alone sufficient to preserve in their offspring this simplicity of life. It had, how- ever, a yet stronger guard in their military and civil, literary and religious institutions. Exposed continually to the incur- sion of hostile and insidious neighbors, they trained their youth to the exercise of arms, to courage in danger, and to constancy in suffering. The forms of their government were popular. They exercised the right of choosing their rulers, and they chose them from the wisest and best of the people. Virtue and talents were indispensable qualifications for office, 187 and bribery and corruption were unknown and unsuspected. A deep foresight and an expanded generosity directed their plans of education. Colleges were founded in the midst of deserts, and the means of knowledge and goodness were within the reach of all ranks of the community. Every house- holder was the chaplain of his family, every village had its instructor of children, every parish its minister of the gospel, every town its magistrate, and every county its court of justice. The study of the law, which is ever conservative of liberty, had a due proportion of followers, among whom it numbered as eminent civilians as any age or country has produced. The colonists, in short, enjoyed all those advantages which conduce ■ to intelligence, sobriety, hardihood, and freedom in a people. Such were the manners which distinguished Americans for a ■century and a half. They were the manners of men who, though poor, were too rich to be venal, though humble in pre- tension, too proud for servility, and though overlooked in the mass of mankind, as possessing no national character, yet convinced the proudest monarchy in the world that an attempt to oppress them was dangerous, and to conquer them impos- sible. The impossibility of subjugating America consisted not in the feelings and manners only, but likewise in the political principles of her sons. They honestly believed what they boldly avowed, that the assumption of parliament was a viola- tion of law, equity, and ancient usage. These colonies origi- nally were composed of men who were rather ejected from Britain as nuisances of the State than fostered as her duteous children. If, when their increasing population and riches became an object of attention, they owed anything to the parent country, it was to the king who gave them their char- ters, and not to the parliament which had expended neither cost nor concern in their settlement, and taken no part in the management of their internal affairs. Whilst the governor represented the royal authority, the provincial assembly was to each province what parliament was to Britain. It framed laws, levied taxes, and made every provision for the public exigence. In regard to the single article of commerce, parliament did, indeed, exercise an unquestioned power of monopoly. In all respects else, it was unknown to the colonies. When, there- fore, this body in which the colonies were not represented as- serted the right of colonial taxation, its claim was unjust ; and 5 with the same right in reality, if not in appearance, might the colonial assemblies have gravely maintained the identical su- premacy over the people of Britain which parliament assumed over the people of America. Was it, then, right in the colonies to resist the parliament and wrong to resist the king ? No. For the king had joined the latter to oppress the former, and thus became, instead of the righteous ruler, the tyrant of this cofintry, to whom alle- giance was no longer due. Americans called themselves free, because they were governed by laws originating in fixed princi- ples, and not in the caprice of arbitrary will. They held that the ruler was equally obliged to construct his laws in consonance with the spirit of the constitution, as were the people to obey them when enacted ; and that a departure from dut}' on his part virtually absolved them from allegiance. Let not this be deemed a licentious doctrine. Who is the rebel against law and order, the legislator ordaining, or the citizen resisting, unconstitutional measures? It is the unprinci- pled minister who artfully innovates on the custom of govern- ing; the ambitious senator whose self is his god; the faithless magistrate who tramples on rights which he has sworn to pro- tect, — these are the men who, by perverting the purposes of government, destroy its foundations, bring back society into a state of war, and are answerable for its mischievous effects. Not those who defend, but those who attack the liberties of mankind, are disturbers of the public peace ; and not on you, my countrymen, but on thee, O Britain, who killedst thy people with the rod of oppression, be the guilt of all that blood which was spilt in the Revolutionary War ! Here, then, you find the principles which produced the event we this day commemorate. They were the principles of com- mon law and of eternal justice. They were the principles of men who fought not to subvert the government under which they lived, but to save it from degeneracy; not to create new rights, but to preserve inviolate such as they had ever pos- sessed, rights of the same sort by which George III. then sat, and still sits, on the throne of England, the rights of prescription. Hence through the progress of our Revolution these principles continued their operation. Armed in the uprightness of your cause, you disdained an appeal to those ferocious passions which commonly desolate society in times of commotion. No man lost his life for resisting the general opinion. Instruction 1S9 maintained its influence, law its terrors, and religion its divine and powerful authority. Property was secure, and character sacred ; and the condition of the country was as remote from a savage democracy as from a sullen despotism. Such was the American Revolution. It arose not on a sud- den, but from the successless petitions and remonstrance of ten long years. It was a revolution not of choice, but of necessity. It grew out of the sorrows and unacknowledged importance of the country, and, having to obtain a definite object by definite means, that object being obtained, was gloriously terminated. As evidence that I have not misrepresented the "feelings, manners, and principles" which gave birth to your indepen- dence, recollect the early, regular, and effectual methods adopted by the United States to form a national constitution of civil government. That continental patriotism which, in a time of war, was able to bend individual interest to the common bene- fit, proved sluggish, precarious, and totally inadequate to the purposes of union and order in the season of peace. There lacked a principle of cohesion, springing from the certain tendencies of human passion which should compel the knowlr edge, industry, and emulation of every citizen to promote the opulence and power of the country. Such a cement was recog- nized in the federal constitution. Its healthful operations, guided by its celebrious framers and friends, revived the lan- guishing spirit of Columbia. Our consequent rapid population had scarcely a parallel in history. Individuals suddenly multi- plied into families, families into towns, and towns into populous and flourishing States. What liberty was to the people of Europe in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, government was now to this country. It patronized genius and learning, gave stimulus to enterprise and reward to labor. It encouraged agriculture and manufactures, unfurled the sails of commerce, lifted public credit out of the mire of contempt, and placed Amer- ica on a dignified eminence among the nations of the earth. These are among the important and happy effects of a domestic nature, which have already flowed from our national independence. There is, moreover, a general effect which will forever flow from the auspicious epoch of July 4, 1776. As often as the sun shall enlighten this day in each successive revolution of our orb, it will admonish the rulers of mankind of the folly and danger of innovations in government. Sound politics is ever conversant with expedience and the temper of 190 the age. It is not a science whicli may be learned in the closet and forced into practice against nature and circum- stances. An endeavor, therefore, to engraft untried theories, however plausible, upon the usual mode of administering affairs of state is always an hazardous undertaking. The man who would rashly change even a government confessedly corrupt betrays pitiable ignorance and presumption. What, then, shall be thought of English ministers who impinged on rights and usages which for generations had strengthened and adorned the ancient empire and were imparting nourishment to this infant realm, and who expended thousands of lives and millions of money in a fruitless effort to legalize their wrongs ? Although, then, the American Revolution must be con- sidered, in regard to this country, the most honorable and felicitous and, in the view of the historian, the most splendid, event the world ever saw, yet to legislators in all climes and periods it conveys this solemn instruction ; it teaches them in a voice louder than the thunders of heaven to be just and wise : just in not abridging the freedom and invading the properties of their fellow-men, and wise in not abandoning the measures of a temperate policy for the garish projects of innovation. If, however, this revolution contain a monition to rulers against political speculations, a revolution of later date affords similar warning to every description of men. The vicissitudes of France during the twelve past years defy the pen of descrip- tion and deter the waiter who values his credit with posterity from essaying the record of truth. See there, ye vaunting in- novators, your wild and dreadful desolations ! Whatever was visionary in metaphysic, or violent in practice, you greedily adopted, and as hastily destroyed whatever bore the sem- blance of order, rectitude, and antiquity. You fixed no bounds to either your ambition or cupidity. Not content with banish- ing faith and law and decency from the Gallic dominion, your ever changeful and unhinging policy assumed the forms of hostility to other governments, and threatened to bring upon the whole civilized world the decades of disorder and rapine. Yet what have Frenchmen gained by all this revolutionary error and frenzy? After warring with science, they now encourage it ; after abolishing Christianity, they have restored it ; and after murdering the mildest of despots, their present republic is a mere mixture of military despotism and of popular slavery. In thus animadverting on the conduct and character of a 191 8 foreign government, I fulfil a painful but necessary duty. It is a necessary part of this day's solemnity, because the American has sometimes been confounded with the French revolution,* when that bears no more resemblance to this than the move- ment of a regular and beneficent planet is like the wanderings of a comet, which " from his horrid hair shakes pestilence and war," t " importing change to times and States." t It is neces- sary, because along with the political innovation which was ravaging Europe there came abroad an infidel philosophy, equally subversive of freedom as of morals. For how shall the liberty of individuals be preserved in a state of universal licentiousness ? And after the prostration of religious prin- ciple how can you hope for purity of manners ? What shall support the superstructure when the foundation is removed? Who ever put faith in the national convention of France after it had denied the existence of God ? Or what was ever more farcical than a report on morals from the mouth of Robes- pierre, whilst that monster of faction was wading to empire in the blood of his country ? It is, finally, necessary because this unholy spirit of atheism has already deteriorated the political and moral condition of this country, and still menaces our hopes, privileges, and possessions. Should it be the fate of- America to drink still deeper of the inebriating bowl, its government, whose existence depends on the public sentiment, must fall a victim to the draught. Should the rulers of our country especially ever become intoxicated with the poison ; should they deviate from the course prescribed by their wise predecessors, incautiously pulling down what had been carefully built ; should they mutilate the form or impair the strength of our most excellent constitution ; should they amuse themselves with ephemeral experiments instead of ad- hering to principles of certain utility ; and should they despise the religion and customs of our progenitors, setting an example of impiety and dissipation, deplorable will be the consequences. From an head so sick and an heart so faint, disease will extend to the utmost extremities of the political body. As well may you arrest the flight of time or entice the moon from her orbit as preserve your freedom under atheistical rulers and amidst * A very instructive and valuable tract on this top'c is found in a pamphlet printed at Philadelphia, entitled "The. Origin and Principles of the American Revolution, compared with the Origin and Principles of the French Revolution, translated from the German of Gentz, by an American gentleman." t Milton. J Shakespeare. 192 general proliigacy of habit. Liberlinism and lethargy, anarchy and misrule, will deform our once happy republic, and its liberties will receive an incurable wound. The soil of America will remain ; but the name and glory of the United States will have perished forever. This lovely peninsula will continue inhabited ; but " the feelings, manners, and principles " of those Bostonians who nobly resisted the various acts of British aggression will be utterly changed. The streams of Concord will flow as formerly, and the hills of Charlestown grow verdant with each return of spring ; but the character of the men who mingled their blood with those waters and who eternized those heights will be sought for, but shall not be found. What execrations shall we merit from posterity if, with the instruction and example of preceding ages and our present advantages, we shall tamely suffer this havoc from the besom of innovation 1 Compared with ours, the memory of those Goths who overwhelmed in their conquest the arts and litera- ture of Greece and Rome will be glorious and amiable. They destroyed the improvements of their enemies, but we shall have abolished the customs of our forefathers and the worthiest labor of our own hands ; they pleaded the necessity of wast- ing the refinements of civilization to prevent luxury and vice, but the annihilation of our institution will annihilate all our virtue and all our liberty. Are we willing, then, to bid farwell to our independence and freedom ? Shall we relinquish the bright visions of republican bliss which twenty-six years have feasted our imagination ? Upon the trial of only half that period will we decry a constitu- tion which is the wonder of the universe ? Or, on account of supposed or real injuries which it may have sustained, will we desert the noble fabric ? Be such national perverseness and instability far from Americans ! The dust of Zion was pre- cious to the exiled Jew, and in her very stones and ruins he contemplated the resurrection of her. walls and the augmented magnificence of her towers. A new glory, too, shall yet overspread our beloved constitution. The guardian God of America, he who heard the groans of her oppression and led her hosts to victory and peace, has still an ear for her com- plaints and an arm for her salvation. That confidence in his care which consists in steadfastness to his eternal statutes will dispel the clouds which darken her hemisphere. Ye, therefore, to whom the welfare of your country is dear, 193 lO unite in the preservation of the Christian, scientific, political, and military institutions of your fathers. This high tribute is due to those venerable sages who established this Columbian festival, to the surviving officers and soldiers of that army which secured your rights with the sword, and to the memory of their departed brethren. You owe it to the ashes of him who, whether considered as a man among men, an hero among heroes, or a statesman among statesmen, will command the love and admiration of every future age. Yes, immortal Wash- ington, amidst all the rancor of party and war of opinions, we will remember thy dying voice, which was raised against the madness of innovation ! " We will cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to our national union, accustoming ourselves to think, and speak of it as of the palladium of our po- litical safety and prosperity." You owe it to his great successor, who has now carried into retirement the sublime and delightful consciousness of having been an everlasting benefactor of his country. Enjoy, illustrious man, both here and hereafter, the recompense of the wise and good ! And may the principles of free government which vou have developed and the constitu- tions which you have defended continue the pride of America until the earth, palsied with age, shall shake her mountains from their bases and empty her oceans into the immensity of space ! You owe it to the civil fathers of this commonwealth, and in particular to him who, thrice raised to its highest dig- nity, watches over its immunities with painful diligence and governs it with unrivalled wisdom, moderation, and clemency. You owe it, in fine, Americans, to yourselves, to your posterity, and to mankind. With daily and obstinate perseverance, perform this momen- tous duty. Preserve unchanged the same correct feelings of liberty, the same purity of manners, the same principles of wisdom and piety, of experience and prescription, the same seminaries of learning, temples of worship and castles of de- fence, which immortalize the memory of your ancestors. You will thus render yourselves worthy of their names and fortunes, of the soil which they watered with the sweat of their brows, and of the freedom for which their blood was the sacrifice. You will thus give consistence, vigor, beauty, and duration to the government of your country ; and, rich reward of your fidelity ! you will witness a reign of such enlightened policy, firmness of administration and unvaiied justice, as shall recall 194 II and prolong to your enraptured eyes the age of Washington and of Adams. "\'OTE OF THE ToWN. At a Meeting of the Freeholders and other Inhabitants of the Town of Boston, duly qualified and legally warned in public Town-Meeting, assembled at Faneuil Hall, the 5th day of July, A.D. 1S02 : \ On motion, Voted, That the Selectmen be, and hereby are appointed a Committee to wait on the Rev. William Emerson, in the name of the Town, and thank him for the elegant and spirited Oration this day de- livered by him, at the request of the Town, upon the Anniversary of the Independence of the United States of America; in which, according to the Institution of the Town, he considered the feelings, manners, and prin- ciples which led to that great National Event; and to request of him a copy for the press. Attest : William Cooper, 7\n^'>i -Clerk. Boston, July 5, 1S02. Gentlemen, — In compliance with custom, I resign to your pleasure the Oration this day delivered. I am, Gentlemen, with sentiments of respect, Your humble servant, W. Emerson. The Selectmen of Boston. Ode for the Axxiversary of American' Independence, July 4, 1802. By a Citizen of Boston. See the bright-haired golden Sun Lead Columbia's Buthday on; Mark the once o'ershadow'd soil. Dressed by Ceres, court his smile ; While the distant vales prolong Sphere-descended Freedom's song. Chorits. Till each mountain's time struck head Leave a valley in its stead. As you are, forever be. Independent, firm, and free. Our fathers sought this land afar. By the light of Freedom's star ; Through trackless seas, unplough'd before. For us they left their native shore : The soil for which their blood has flown Shall be protected with our own. Choiits. Till, etc. 195 12 Beneath the gentle smiles of peace, In arts our fame shall rival Greece. For power insatiate, let the car Of wild Ambition rush to war: We twine, beneath the Olive's shade, A wreath that age can never fade. Chorus. Till, etc. Lofty pasans strike the skies, To the Power who gave the prize : While Wachusett lifts its head O'er the plains on which you bled, Yearly let its vales reply, " Freely live, or nobly die." Chorus. Hark ! already to the strain, How they echo back again. As you are, forever be. Independent, firm, and free. Me.moir of the Life and Character of Rev. William Emerson. By Rev. Saiiniel Cooper Thaclier., in the Collections of the Massachu- setts Historical Society., 1814. The late Rev. William Emerson was a man .so much esteemed by the public, and is remembered with so much respect and affection by his friends, that it would be unjust that these volumes, which his own labors contributed to enrich, should not contain some record of his life and some memorial, however imperfect, of his worth. The life of a scholar, and particularly of a clergyman whose occu- pations are necessarily so regular and uniform, of course can seldom furnish many materials for biography. Mr. Emerson was born at Concord, Massachusetts, on the 6th of May, 1769. He was the only son of the minister of that place, whose career of usefulness was prematurely closed in the thirty-fifth year of his age, while he was en- gaged in the service of his country at the beginning of the American Revolution. Though deprived of the guidance of a father at the early age of seven years, he was enabled by the blessing of Heaven on the care of an excellent mother to pass a blameless childhood. When in his seventeenth year he entered Harvard College, his views of life were already so just, his habits of industry so fixed, and his principles of action .so elevated and correct, that he passed through the temptations to which he was exposed unhurt, and left the uni- versity in 1789 with a reputation for talents, learning, and virtue which his succeeding life confirmed and increased. 196 13 After engaging for a short time, as is usual with most of our clergy, in the care of a school, he completed his theological studies, and in the year i 792 was ordained over the church in Harvard. From this place he was called to a sphere of wider usefulness in the me- tropolis, and was installed in the First Church, Boston, October, 1799. Here the suavity and courtesy of his manners and the fidel- ity and ability with which he discharged his pastoral duties secured to him a great share of public esteem and affection. He became a member of nearly all the learned and charitable societies, which in this town are so numerous, and in most of them was intrusted with some important office. He was never weary in contriving and en- couraging plans for the improvement of the moral and literary char- acter of the community. In the year i8c4 he undertook the con- duct of the Monthly Anthology and Boston Review^ a literary journal which, in conjunction with several friends whom he interested in its fate, he gratuitously supported, and which sustained a r'epu- tation not inferior to any similar work which had preceded it in this country. He continued in the uninterrupted discharge of these multiplied duties to great acceptance till May, 1808, when his friends perceived the first indications of his precarious health. The manner in which he bore the violence of a disease which attacked him at this period cannot be better described than in the language of one of his friends,* who, already, alas! himself claims from us the same sad tribute which he gave to his deceased brother. " Of the practical strength of his faith and piety he was permitted to give us a memorable example during the sudden attack which he sustained a few years since in all the fulness of his health and ex- pectations, when he was busily preparing for a public service. Those who then saw him brought down in an instant and without any pre- vious warning to the gates of death can never forget the steadfastness with which he received the alarm and the singular humility and com- posure with which he waited during many days, doubtful of life and expecting to leave all that was dear to him on earth to present himself before God." From this attack, however, he apparently recovered and resumed all his usual employments with his accustomed activity and interest. The occasion of the erection of a new place of public worship for the First Church suggested to him the plan of a history of that an- cient and respectable society. It has been published since his decease bv his friends, and, though laboring under the disadvantage of being posthumous and incomplete, it displays great accuracy and minute- ness of research and is read with pleasure and profit by those who take an interest in the early history and ecclesiastical antiquities of our country. In preparing this work, he was engaged till the symp- toms of the disease which finally closed his life interrupted his * Rev. J. S. Buckminster's sermon at the funeral of Mr. Emerson. 197 14 labors, while employed in an analysis of the works and character of Chauncy. He sustained the severity of a lingering and distressing disorder with the most exemplary fortitude and Christian tranquillity, till at length he sunk under its force on iith of May, i8i i. Such are the few incidents possessing sufficient general interest to be here recorded, which are to be found in the peaceful and even tenor of the life of this excellent man. In reviewing his character and attainments, it is not difficult to show the grounds of that reputa- tion which during his life he enjoyed. He was a man of lively and vigorous talents, and possessed the rare felicity of having them so constantly at command that his literary efforts are almost all of nearly equal excellence. He possessed great diligence and activity in every pursuit in which he engaged, and was remarkably method- ical and exact in the distribution of his time. If we were to select any single feature as marking his character more distinctly than any other, we should say it was the singular propriety with which he filled every station to which he was called. His strong curiosity led him to engage in a great variety of studies ; and his love of activity allowed his friends to lay upon him the burden of a great multitude of occupations m the various literary and charitable societies of which he was a member. This variety and number of his duties — though they did not leave him leisure to carry his researches very deeply into many sciences — enabled him to gain a merited fame for active usefulness and devotion to the cause of benevolence ; a fame, in the eye of reason and religion, far more valuable than any renown which can be claimed by a man of barren though ever so profound speculation. As a clergyman, he was greatly endeared to his society. His man- ner in the pulpit was graceful and dignified, though seldom impas- sioned. His sermons were remarkably chaste and regular in their structure, correct and harmonious in their style, seldom aiming at the more daring graces of rhetoric, but always clear and accurate and, to a great majority of hearers, particularly acceptable. In all the private relations of life he was most exemplary and con- scientious. His purity was without a stain. His integrity was above all suspicion. No man delighted more in the happiness of his friends, or would more actively and disinterestedly exert himself to promote it. How deeply he felt the truth and value of the religion which he preached no one could doubt who witnessed the consola- tion and support which they gave him in his dying moments. By a life uniformly devoted to the cause of truth and of the best interests of mankind, he has left to his children and friends a rich legacy in the remembrance of his virtues. He has given them one more motive to form their lives on the principles which governed his, that they may hereafter share with him the rewards which we trust he has already gone to receive. 198 15 The following is given as a correct list of Mr. Emerson's ac- knowledged publications : — 1. Sermon at Harvard, July 4, 1794. 2. Sermon at the Artillery election, Boston, 1799. 3. Sermon before the Roxbury Charitable Society, 1800. 4. Sermon at the ordination of Rev. Robert Smiley, Sept. 33, 1801. 5. Boston Oration, July 4, 1802. 6. Sermon on the death of Rev. Dr. Thacher, 1802. 7. Sermon at the drdination of Rev. Thomas Bede, 1803. 8. Sermon on the death of Madam Bowdoin, 1803. 9. Sermon before the Boston Female Asylum, 1805. to. Sermon on the death of Charles Austin, r8o6. 11. Discourse before the Humane Society, 1807. 12. The tirst, second, third, and seventh discourses in the fourth number of the Christian Afo/iiior, with the prayers annexed to each discourse. 13. A selection of psalms and hymns, embracing all the varieties of subject and metre, suitable for private devotion and the worship of churches, 1 2mo, 1 808. 14. Sermon at the ordination of Rev. Mr. Clark, Burlington, 1810. Pieginning with 1783, a public oration has been given in Boston on the 4th ot July each year, under the auspices of the City. The first orator was Dr. John Warren, brother of General Joseph Warren who fell at Bunker Hill. In 1802 the oration was given by Rev. William Emerson, the minister of the First Church, father of Ralph W'aldo Emerson, who was born on May 25 of the next year. Mr. Emerson's (ration is here printed in full, together with the Memoir prepared for the Massachusetts Historical Society after liis death in iSii liy Rev. Samuel Cooper Thacher, who was ordained as minister of the New South Church just as Mr. Emerson died, while indeed his body still lay awaiting burial. To the list of Mr. Emerson's publications given by Mr. Thacher should be added the Historical Sketch of the First Church, left unfinished and published after his death with the brief memoir embodied in the fimeral sermon by Rev. J. S. Buckminster, and the two sermons preached by Mr. Emerson July 17 and 21, iSoS, upon the occasion of leaving the old meet- ing-house in Cornhill (Washington Street) and the dedication of the new one in Chauncy Place. The funeral sermon by Buckminster was printed in full in pamphlet form, ard is the most important tribute to William Emerson. See the brief biographical notice by Josiah Quinry in his History of the Boston Athens-um ; also by Loring in his " Hundred Boston Orators." There may be seen in the libraries the " Catalogue of Books, comprising the Library of the late Rev. William Emerson, to be sold at Public Auction, on Tuesday, 27th of August instant, at the Theological Library in Chauncey Place. Sale to commence at 10 o'clock A.M. Whitwell & Bond, auctioneers." There are 212 titles in the catalogue, mostly of religious works, but not a few volumes in general literature and history, among the latter being the American Biographical and Historical Dictionary, .Adams's Historv of Xew England, Belknap's American Biograpliy, Bancroft's Life of Washington, Eulogies on Washington, Holmes's American Annals, Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts, Eliot's New England Biographical Dictionary, Neal's Puritans. Rollin's .Ancient Kisiory, Robert- son's Charles the Fifth, Trumbull's History of Connecticut, Winthrop's Journal, and Washington's Political Legacies. The first of Mr. Emerson's published discourses, given at Harvard, Mass., July 4, 1794, is interesting in comparison with the Boston 4th of July oration in 1S02. It was given at the request of the military officers of the town of Harvard, who, with the militia under their command, assembled to hear it. It dwelt largely upon the importance of morals and relig- ion in the nation. Referring to dangers then confronting, or likely to confront, the nation, the preacher said, " If ever called to the field, we trust ye will remember from 199 i6 wliom ye descend." The motto for the whole might very well ha%'e been that often attrib- uted to Cromwell's Puritans: "Trust in God, and keep your powder dry." This, too, might well have served for the sermon, " Piety and Arms," preached in 1799 before the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company in P.oston. The actual text was, " Let the hiah praises of fiod be in their mouth, and a two-edged sword in their hands." Ps. cxlix. 6. " We vindicate no war," the preacher said, " which is not the legitimate offspring of self- defence; none incompatible with any sober construction of the precept. Resist not evil ; none which embraces other objects than such a restitution to the injured state as shall inhibit future aggressions; none in which a Christian country cannot consistently appeal to the ' sovereign arbiter of nations for the rectitude of its cause and confide the issue to his just decision." Referring to the unhappy conditions which still made arms and military organiza- tions necessary, he said to the company which he was addressing : " Consider those arms as the sad emblems of an unnatural and depraved state of society. Under this impression you will not bear them with pride, but reluctance, and will consider the necessity of their assump- tion as a source of humiliation, and not of glory, to you in common with our kind." The •word makes us think of his great son's denunciation of " musket worship " and of passages in his lecture on War. Turning to the general subject of public morals, the preaeher said : " Vain is it for you, legislators, to levy taxes and establish armies for the safety of the republic if we, the subjects, by our luxuries and sloth, consume the political body." There was a warm tribute to Washington, then in the last year of his life; and we have a reflection of tlie Federalist spirit of the time in the word : You see the triumphs of Gallic infidelity in that factious and disorganizing spirit which has stalked through the United States for the purpose of destroying our coufidence in the officers of the Federal government and of under- mining the government itself." Mr. Emerson's History of the First Church is a scholarly and valuable work. His collection of psalms and hymns shows a distinctly finer feeling than what we had had before. " In some of the psalms and hvmns which are used in our country, the voice of poetry is .silent,"' is one reason which he gives for preparing his new hymn-book ; and he hopes the book will promote the interests of congregational singing, in the .growth of which in the country he rejoices. The book contains 150 psalms and 150 hymns, one on each page, the page numbers and hymn numbers corresponding, — a distinctly convenient arrangement. The study of Mr. Emerson's various published works confirms the judgment pronounced upon him by his ' ontemporaiies as a thoughtful, cultivated, public-spirited, high-minded mar, whose influence upon- his gifted son during the tender years over which that influence extended must have been refining and ennobling. PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. #lti ^outl) Eeaflet^ No. 135. The Schools of Massachusetts in 1824. 1?Y JAMES GORDON CARTKR. From his Essays upon Popular Education. The pilgrims of Plymouth set the first example not only to our own country, but to the civilized world, of a system of free schools, at which were educated together, not by compulsion, but from mutual choice, all classes of the community, — the high, the low, the rich, and the poor, — a system, by which the state so far assumed the education of the youth, as to make all property responsible for the support of common schools for the instruction of all children. This institution was indeed the foster child, and has justly been the pride, of Massachusetts and of New England. Its influences were strong, and they still are strong, upon the moral and political character of the people. If our ancestors were stern republicans, this institution did more than any and all others to make them so and to keep them so. While the best schools in the land are /r*?^, all the classes of society are blended. The rich and the poor meet and are educated together. And, if educated together, nature is so even- handed in the distribution of her favors that no fear need be entertained that a monopoly of talent, of industry, and conse- quently of acquirements, will follow a monopoly of property. The principle upon which our free schools are established is in itself a stern leveller of factitious distinctions. Every genera- tion, while the system is executed according to the true spirit of it, as conceived by our ancestors, will bring its quota of new men to fill the public places of distinction, — men who owe noth- ing to the fortunes or the crimes of their fathers, but all, under the blessing of God, to their own industry and the common schools. I say the principle in itself, because it has never been carried into full operation, and probably never will be. Its tendency, however, is not to level by debasing the exalted, but by exalting the debased. And it is a more effectual check against an aristocracy of wealth, and consequently of political influence, than would be a national jubilee and the equal distri- bution of property once in fifty years, without such a principle at the foundation of our system of public instruction. " Knowl- edge is power," says Lord Bacon ; and so is property power, because it will procure knowledge. If we suppose society divided into two classes, the rich and the poor, the property of the former class, if there were no such institution as the free schools, would procure such immense advantages of education as to bring second, third, and any rate talents into successful competition with those of the first order without such advan- tages. This use of property puts upon it its highest value ; and it would not be politic, if it were possible, to destroy it. But it should seem that this use ought to be limited, and that some of our institutions, at least, ought to have the tendency to put all upon the footing on which nature and the God of nature left them. And, just in proportion as you lose sight of or abandon the true principle of the free schools, you lose sight of and abandon all the moral, political, and religious blessings which result from them. You check the diffusion of knowledge through all classes of people. You stop the circulation through the extremities of the body politic of the very life-blood which must nourish and sustain them. You may preserve and amuse yourselves with the name of free institutions and of a repub- lican government ; but you will not be blessed with the reality. You may incorporate in your Constitution, if you like, the arti- cles "that all men are born free and equal," and "that all are eligible to the highest offices " ; but this is not freedom while ninety-nine hundredths of the community have not the means of fitting themselves or their children for discharging the duties of those high offices. As well might you tie the legs and pinion the arms of a man, and tell him he has as fair a chance to win the race as one who is free and trained to the course. Something like this our ancestors must have felt, who estab- lished the free schools ; and something like this their posterity must feel if they would cherish and preserve them. The first organization of the schools under the Colony Char- ter did not, probably, yield so good instruction as was afforded afterwards or as is afforded now in them. But it gave to all the best elementary education which could be procured in the country. The next organization under the Province Charter gave better instruction, to be sure ; but its excellence was more the result of the progress of society in other respects than of any improvements in the discipline of the schools themselves. Though somewhat advanced, they did not so much take the lead of society as they had done before ; and individuals began to look about them and to supply for themselves and their fami- lies better instruction than they afforded. Under our present constitution, or for the last forty years, the schools have no doubt been vastly improved. But they have, most certainly, not kept up with the progress of society in other respects. Although their absolute motion must be acknowledged to have been onward, their relative motion has for many years been retrograde. And there never was a time, since the settlement of the country, when the common schools were farther in the rear of the improvements of the age in almost everything else affecting our condition and happiness than they are at the present moment. We impose upon ourselves, in examining our Uterary institu- tions and in estimating the efficiency of our means of popular education, somewhat in this manner. We see six schools sup- ported now where there were once but three, and therefore conclude that just twice as much attention is paid to education as there formerly was. But there are probably four times as many scholars and inhabitants upon the same territory as then supported the three schools, and more than four times the amount of wealth ; so that instead of six they ought, at the same rate, to support more than twelve schools. We see, indeed, many new branches of learning introduced into all our lower seminaries, and hastily conclude that all this is advancement in their character and condition. True, it may be so ; but how many new arts and sciences have sprung up within these few years and assumed the dignity of separate and important de- partments of education ? and what sort of a figure in the world would your pupil make if destitute of instruction in them ? Does a common-school education prepare those who have that only better for discharging all the duties which society requires of its best and highest citizens than it did forty years ago ? 203 This is the correct method of estimating the condition of the schools. We must compare them with the altered state of so- ciety in other respects. Our instructors of the present day would no doubt appear to good advantage when contrasted with those of the last century. But compare them with the first men in the community. What is their standing there ? By these means, and by these only, can we decide correctly whether they are likely to take the lead in the improvements of the age, or whether they will more probably fall lazily into the wake of those improvements which have gone far before them. Examine the amount of your ap- propriations for the support of free schools in connection with the number of youth who must be educated in them, and also in connection with the present wealth of the country ; examine ivhat is taught in connection with what is required in order to discharge successfully all the duties of a citizen of the republic ; examine how it is taught in connection with the present im- proved state of science and the arts ; and, above all, examine the acquirements, the experience, and the skill of your teachers in connection with the important duty which you assign to them, — and there can be no doubt that you will come to the con- clusion that the condition of the free schools is far behind what the improved and improving state of society among us re- quires. And, while you pass loud praises to the memory of your ancestors for the establishment of an institution which has con- tributed so much to your own happiness, prosperity, and glory, you stand convicted of perverting it in your hands, and de- frauding posterity of an inheritance which was designed for them. Having thus stated the principles upon which an examination into our means of popular education should be conducted, then briefly alluded to the principal points to which inquiries should be first directed, and lastly intimated the result at which I have arrived, and at which I think all must arrive, in regard to the present condition of the free schools, I now hasten forward to take a similar view of other parts of the system. The decline of popular education among us, or rather the comparatively retrograde motion of the principal means of it, has been more perceptible during the last twenty or thirty years than it ever was at any former period. And in the mean time there has sprung up another class of schools, more respectable, indeed, in their character, and better answering the demands of a por- 204 5 tion of the public, but not free. The academies are public, but noXfree schools. They are open to the whole community under certain conditions. But those conditions exclude nineteen- twentieths of the people from participating in the advantages which they are designed to afford. Leaving behind, then, nineteen-twentieths of the whole population of the State, the academies have generally been so well conducted as to meet the wants and expectations of the other twentieth. This last small fraction embraces that part of the community who set the highest value upon the influence of early education, and are able to defray the expenses necessary to provide for it. But in the rapid progress of knowledge, and the consequent demand for instruction of all kinds, even this class of schools has ceased to be adequate to supply the wants of all ; and private establishments begin to take the lead of them. Now I rejoice at the estabUshment of every institution for the education of youth, whether it be for the benefit of one or a thousand, if it can be conducted upon better principles of gov- ernment and instruction than those which generally prevail. It is matter of congratulation that there are some among us who feel the need of better schools ; and I am one of the most hearty admirers of the private enterprise which would endeavor to supply so important a public demand. I appreciate fully, too, the efforts of those who have founded and conducted our public academies. But it is most deeply to be regretted that their plans are quite so much tinctured with the notions of the last century, and that the systems of instruction and government which they adopt do not partake more largely of the modern and improved ideas of education. The energy of their board of directors, too, is frequently much impaired by the struggles among individuals to adjust opposite views and conflicting in- terests ; and the fear of innovation hangs like an incubus upon many, and paralyzes the eftorts of all, even of those who have thrown it off. Better schools and better instruction are demanded than the academies in their present state afford, and they must soon be supplied. It is certainly to be regretted that these public de- mands exist to so great an extent, and that they are every day increasing. It may here, without impertinence, be suggested to those who control the public academies that, if those establish- ments were put in the condition in which it should seem they might easily be put, they would meet the wants of even the most 205 discriminating, and anticipate the opening of private schools of a higher character. If those wants exist, it is certainly better that they should be supphed by private schools than not at all. But it would be much more for the interest of the community if they coiild be supplied or anticipated by public ones, not be- cause it is any evil that • a few scholars are withheld from the public schools and better provided for in private ones : but every private establishment which is so far superior to the public ones as to draw off a portion of the patronage which would otherwise be bestowed upon them detaches a portion of the community from the great mass, and weakens or destroys their interest in those means of education which are common to the whole people. The character and influence of this enlightened and efficient part of the community, who thus secede from the whole, will be found in the end, when, perhaps, it is too late to remedy the evil, to be a loss which has not yet been duly estimated. Their property may be cheerfully yielded to support the public schools, but their wisdom is needed to direct them. The remote good of an improved state of society, and the security and happiness of being surrounded by more intelligent neigh- bors, may for a time be sufficient to control the purses of people ; but their hearts will most surely follow and abide with their own children. Now, if the public academies, or at least some of them, be not new modelled and improved so as to meet the demands of even those who demand the most, there must inevitably a portion of interest in them soon secede from their support. And by the by (may it be at some very distant day), when our population comes to be crowded, when our numbers have become so great as to press hard upon the means of subsistence, when property comes to be more unequally distributed than it now is, when the rich become more inso- lent and the poor more depressed, more hungry, and more fac- tious, then will jealousies arise and grow strong between the different classes of the community, then will the children of the higher classes be contaminated by contact with those of the lower, then will general and public interest yield to particular and private interest, then will a large portion of the property be withheld from the means of popular education or be extorted from unwilling owners, then will the several classes, being edu- cated differently and without a knowledge of each other, imbibe mutual prejudices and hatreds, and entail them upon posterity 206 from generation to generation. This may be refining a little too much or looking a little too 'deeply into futurity ; but it is the natural tendency of things upon sound principles of political reasoning. Circumstances may conspire to hasten or retard the time, but the time will come when those who hold most prop- erty will not be so zealous as they now are to urge it upon others for their better education. Charity between individuals is soon tired when it begins to be abused ; and a policy in government, however generous and noble it may be, operating in favor of the more ignorant and the weaker part of the com- munity at the expense of the wiser and the stronger, will soon be abandoned when it begins to be perverted. May our rulers look to this natural and powerful tendency of things, and check it while it may be checked or counteract its influence as far as it may be counteracted. And what means are there so likely to do this as an efficient system of popular education, which shall bring out and put in vigorous action and keep in constant and struggling competition the greatest amount of intellect among all classes ? The academies were unknown in Massachusetts before the Revolution. The oldest of these institutions is Phillips Acad- emy at Andover, the date of whose charter is 1780. Before this time all public schools, it should seem, were also free. The number of these seminaries or high schools did not much in- crease for many years after the close of the Revolutionary War. But during a short period, about ten or fifteen years since, they were multiplied to a very great extent. The people of Massa- chusetts, always desirous of following the policy of the Pilgrims of Plymouth in regard to schools, seemed for a time absurdly to suppose that they had but to get an academy incorporated and established in their neighborhood, and that their children would be educated without farther trouble. But in this too san- guine expectation they have been most of them somewhat dis- appointed. An act of incorporation has not been found, on ex- periment, to be quite so efficacious as was at first anticipated. And many of these institutions, which in the imagination of their projectors rose at once almost to the dignity of colleges, are now found in a very inefficient, indeed, in a most wretched condition. The legislature of the State, then willing and anxious to en- courage "learning and good morals" among the people, — a duty which the constitution solemnly enjoins upon them, — by 207 all means in their power granted as many acts of incorporation as were petitioned for ; and to many of these corporations, in token of their good will, they appropriated townships of land in the interior and northerly part of Maine which then formed a part of Massachusetts. Some of these townships of land, by the way, it is to be feared, may be fomid on the wrong side of the boundary line to be drawn between Maine and the British Provinces. So far as this policy evinced a desire to encourage the diffusion of knowledge, it should receive the commendation which good intentions always deserve ; but, for all practical pur- poses, for perhaps fifty years from the date of these charters and appropriations the legislature might about as well have assigned to the petitioners for them a tract of the moon. When these hungry corporate beings had been created by the legislature, and their first cries for sustenance had been soothed by the unsavory dish of eastern lands, they were then abandoned to the charity of their friends, or, if they proved cold, to a lin- gering death by starvation. The eastern lands, which consti- tuted the patrimony of the State, were in most cases utterly un- available. The benevolence of friends was generally exhausted in accumulating the means to erect suitable buildings ; and the corporations were left to rely upon their own sagacity for procur- ing other resources to put their institution in operation. The more essential, indeed almost the only essential part of a good academy — namely, a good instructor. — was left unprovided for. The only expedient which remained was to support the teacher by a tax upon the scholars. It seemed but reasonable that those who enjoyed the exclusive benefit of the institution should pay for their own instruction. But this condition, though per- haps but a small sum was required of each pupil in order to produce an adequate salary for an instructor, removed the ad- vantages of the academies at once beyond the reach of a large proportion of the inhabitants. The appropriations of the State, therefore, for the support of these schools, if they benefited any body in particular, surely benefited not the poor, but the rich and middling classes of the community. At least, these enjoyed the chief advantage of them, the direct rays of the State's favor ; while the poor could feel only a dim reflection of them. That the academies, at least those of them which have been put and sustained in a tolerably respectable condition, have been a great accommodation to a few of our inhabitants, cannot be doubted. And how few are those who have received any 208 advantages from them may be easily estimated by comparing the small nmiiber of children instructed in them with the whole number in the Commonwealth. Still, these are, or may be, useful institutions. I have certainly no desire to lessen the high repute in which they seem to be held. On the contrary, I wish they were in higher estimation than they really are ; and, what is more, I wish they were more worthy of that esti- mation. But they should be appreciated for the character which they possess, and never for that which they do not possess. And they are not establishments for the instruction of the poor. Neither can they be relied upon as efficient means for the education of the mass or even a majority of the people, because, as has been before intimated, their conditions exclude nineteen-twentieths of the whole population of the State from a participation of their advantages. If they are sustained, therefore, it must be upon some other ground. What that ground is it is not my purpose now to inquire. But what has been their influence upon the free or town schools ? One influence which they undoubtedly have had has been to prepare young instructors some better than they could be prepared in the town schools themselves. This is a good influ- ence ; and, if the same object could not be attained much better by other means, it would deserve great consideration in estimating the utility which we are to expect from those estab- lishments for the future. But the preparation of instructors for the free schools never formed a part of the original design of the academies. They were intended to aft'ord instruction in other and higher branches of education than those usually taught in the free schools, and not merely to give better in- struction in the same branches. Much less did it come within the wide scope of their purposes to give instruction in the science of teaching generally ; so that the little good derived from them in this respect is only incidental. The preparation of instructors for free schools is a subject of such moment to this community that it will hardly be thought expedient, on reflection, to trust it to chance or to incidents. Experience and observation have convinced those who have attended to the subject that adequate instructors for the free schools are not prepared by these incidental means. In order to be efficient and effectual in attaining that desirable object, means must be applied directly to it. But, of the education of instructors, more by and by. I wish merely now to say, and I 209 lO trust I have shown, that the academies cannot be relied upon for accompUshing that object so as in any good degree to meet the demands and answer the reasonable expectations of the community. But the academies have had another influence upon the public town schools which has much impaired their usefulness ; and, if not soon checked, it will ultimately destroy them. This influ- ence, operating for a series of years, has led already to the abandonment of a part of the free school system, and to a de- preciation in the character and prospects of the remaining part ; and it is working, not slowly, the destruction of the vital princi- ple of the institution, more valuable to us than any other for the preservation of enlightened freedom. The pernicious influence to which I allude will be better understood by taking an ex- ample of its operation on a small scale, and then extending the same principle of examination to the whole State or to New England. Take any ten contiguous towns in the interior of this Com- monwealth, and suppose an academy to be placed in the centre of them. An academy, as I have before observed, commonly means a corporation with a township of land in Maine, given them by the State, and a pretty convenient house, built gener- ally by the patriotic subscriptions of those who expect to use it, the instructor being supported chiefly or altogether by a sepa- rate tax on the scholars. In each of these ten towns select the six individuals who have famihes to educate, who set the highest value on early education, and who are able to defray the ex- penses of the best which can be had, either in a private school among themselves or at the academy, which, by the supposition, is in their neighborhood. Now of what immediate consequence can it be to the six families of each town, or to the sixty families of the ten towns, whether there be such a thing as a free school in the Commonwealth or not? They have a general interest in them, to be sure, because they have themselves been there in- structed, and the early associations of childhood and youth are strong; and they have a sort of speculative belief, if it be not rather an innate sentiment, that free schools make a free people. But how are their own particular, personal, and immediate inter- ests affected ? Without any libel upon good nature, these are the mainsprings to human actions. These are the motives which find their way soonest to the human heart, and influence most powerfully and steadily the opinions of men and the con- duct founded upon and resulting from them. II As soon as difficulties and disagreements in regard to the free schools arise, as they necessarily must, upon various topics, such as the amount of money to be raised, the distribu- tion of it among the several districts, the manner of appropria- tion, whether it be to the " summer schools " or to the " winter schools," to pay an instructor from this family or from that family, of higher qualifications or of lower qualifications, of this or that political or religious creed, or a thousand other questions which are constantly occurring, — if any of our six families happen to be dissatisfied or disgusted with any course which may be adopted, they will immediately abandon the free schools, and provide for the education of their children in their own way. They may organize a private school, for their own convenience, upon such principles as they most approve ; or they may send their scholars, at an expense trifling to them, to the academy in their neighborhood. Well, what if they do ? The free schools remain, all taxes are paid cheerfully for their support, and the nvimber oE scholars is lessened. What is the evil of their sending their children somewhere else to be edu- cated ? We should, at first, suppose that it would be an advan- tage, inasmuch as the amount of money to be expended would be left the same, and the number of pupils to receive the ben- efit of it would be considerably diminished. But the evils of this course, and of the general policy of the State government which has led to it, are very serious ones. When the six individuals of any country town who are, by the supposition, first in point of wealth and interest in the subject, and who will generally be also first in point of intelligence and influence in town affairs, withdraw their children from the com- mon schools, there are at the same time withdrawn a portion of intelligence from their direction and heartfelt interest from their support. This intelligence is needed to manage the deli- cate and important concerns of the schools ; and this heartfelt interest is needed to lead the way to improvements, to stimulate and encourage larger and larger appropriations, and to insure vigilance in their expenditure. Patriotism and philanthropy are dull motives to exertions for the improvement of common schools compared with parental affection ; and this quickening power has gone off to the academies or somewhere else with the chil- dren who are the objects of it. Look at the operation of this influence of the academies upon the free schools on a still smaller scale. Examine the condition 12 of the latter in the very towns where academies are placed, and where, if their influence be a happy one, we should expect to find the common schools in the best condition. What is the fact? From observation and from information collected from authentic sources the assertion may be hazarded that the con- dition of the free schools will be found, on examination, to be worse, far worse, in those towns than in any others. And it is for this plain reason : because those who can barely afford the expense of tuition will send their children to the academy which the State or benevolent individuals have built up for their ac- commodation, and give themselves no farther trouble about the free schools but to pay the tax bill for their support when it is presented. Thus the men who would have the most interest in the sub- ject, the most intelligence and the most leisure to conduct the concerns of the town schools, secede from them, and join them- selves to other institutions. Abolish the academy, and leave these six families of each town to the free schools alone, and you would find all their powers assiduously employed to put them in the best condition possible. Or rather put the free schools in a state to afford as good instruction as the academies now do, and you would supersede in a great degree the necessity of them. And it is apprehended that it would be quite easy to place them upon a footing to give even better instruction, at least in all the elementary branches of a common education, than the academies now give or ever have given. If the princi- ples suggested above for the examination of our means of popular education be correct, and if the influence of the private estab- lishments upon the academies, and of the academies upon the free schools, be really such as it has been described to be, my readers, by following out the inquiries which those principles lead to, in all their relations and bearings, cannot fail to con- vince themselves that something may be done as well as much said upon this subject. Towards the close of my third essay a comparison was insti- tuted between the academies and those private establishments which begin and will continue to grow up, while the former do not afford as good instruction as can be procured in this or in any country. The conclusion was that, as a means of public instruction, the academies are, decidedly, the most to be relied upon, because their conditions do not exclude more than nine- teen-t:iveiitie1hs of the people from the free enjoyment of their advantages, whereas the private estabUshments of high char- acter are beyond the reach of at least ninety-nine hundredths. In my last pages a comparison upon the same principles was drawn between the academies and the free schools ; and the conclusion was that we cannot safely rely upon the former either for directly instructing the mass of the people, who are found only in the free schools, or for preparing instructors for them, and thus, indirectly, accomplishing the same object. Our only reliance, therefore, is upon the town schools, because access to them is open to all ; whereas certainly not more than one-twentieth and probably not more than one-fiftieth of the whole population can gain admittance to the academies at all. Hence, if any measures are to be taken, or any appropria- tions to be made by the legislature for the dififusion of knowl- edge generally, it should seem that the free schools demand their first attention. They are the foundation not only of our whole systeiB of public instruction, but of all our free institu- tions. Let our rulers take care, then, that this basis be not allowed to crumble away on any pretence. If it do so, there will be wrenching in the political fabric when it will be too late to apply a brace, disorder and confusion when it will be too late to take the alarm, and impending ruin when it will be too late to escape it. But let this foundation be laid deep and firm, not only in the constitution and the laws of our country, but also in the heads and the hearts of our countrymen. The care of the higher seminaries of learning, the ornaments of our system of popular education, will more appropriately follow. Before we attempt, however, to take a single step towards re- form, let us see what we have to amend. Unless faults can be shown to exist in the organization of our system of popular edu- cation, and great ones, it will do but little good to recommend improvements. For it is with communities as with individuals ; and " no one," says Fisher Ames, " is less Ukely to improve than the coxcomb who fancies he has already learned out." The pride which we of New England have been accustomed to feel and, perhaps, to manifest, in our free schools as the best in the country and in the world, has not improved their condition ; but, on the contrary', the great complacency with which we con- template this institution is a most effectual bar to all improve- ments in it. The time has come when we owe it to our country and ourselves to speak the whole truth in this matter, even though it disturb our self-satisfaction a little. 213 14 It will be convenient to point out the faults of the public pro- visions for popular education under the two following heads : first, the " Summer Free Schools," which are generally taught in the country towns for a few months in the warm season of the year by females ,; and, second, the "Winter Free Schools," which are taught by men, commonly, for a shorter period during the cold season. Children of both sexes of from four to ten or twelve years usually attend these primary summer schools, and females often to a much later age. This is a very interesting period of human life. No one who has reflected much upon the subject of early discipline, no one, I trust, who has even fol- lowed me through the preceding essays, can doubt that it is one of the most important parts, if not the very most important part, of our Hves, as it regards the influence of education in its widest sense. It is important as it regards the development of the powers of the body or physical education ; because the parts of the body, the limbs, the muscles, the organs, or whatever are the technical names for them, now assume a firmness and con- sistency in discharging their proper functions or they become distorted and enfeebled ; and these habits, thus early contracted, become a part of ourselves and are as abiding as our lives. Yet what has been done in this branch of education ? Nothing at all, absolutely nothing at all, even in our best schools. This period is vitally important as it regards the cultivation of the heart and its affections. What has been done here ? Chance and ill-directed efforts make up all the education which we have received or are giving to our children in the schools in this de- partment. Finally, it is important to us, as it regards the dis- cipline of the head, the development of the understanding and its faculties. What have we done in this department ? We have done something, indeed, and think that we have done much. We have done, and we continue to do, more than we do ivell. We resort to many expedients and apply many means, without distinctly understanding either what we wish to attain, whether it be possible to attain it, or, if so, the adaptation of our means to its attainment. Success, here, therefore, if the best possible results have ever been gained in any instance, has been more the result of chance than of skill. To whom do we assign the business of governing and instruct- ing our children from four to twelve years of age ? Who take upon themselves the trust of forming those principles and habits which are to be strengthened and confirmed in manhood, 214 15 and make our innocent little ones through life happy or miser- able in themselves, and the blessings or the curses of society ? To analyze, in detail, the habits which are formed and con- firmed, in these first schools, to trace the abiding influence of good ones, or to describe the inveteracy of bad ones, would lead me from my present purpose. But are these interesting years of life and these important branches of education com- mitted to those who understand their importance or their influ- ence upon the future character ? Are they committed to those who would know what to do to discharge their high trust successfully if they did, indeed, understand their importance ? I think not. And I am persuaded that all who have reflected but for a moment upon the age, the acquirements, and the ex- perience of those who assume to conduct this branch of educa- tion must have come to the same conclusion. The teachers of the primary summer schools have rarely had any education beyond what they have acquired in the very schools where they begin to teach. Their attainments, there- fore, to say the least, are usually very moderate. But this is not the worst of it. They are often very young, they are constantly changing their employment, and consequently can have but little experience ; and, what is worse than all, they never have had any direct preparation for their profession. This is the only service in which we venture to employ young and, often, ignorant persons, without some previous instruction in their ap- propriate duties. We require experience in all those whom we employ to perform the slightest mechanical labor for us. We would not buy a coat or a hat of one who should undertake to make them without a previous apprenticeship ; nor would any one have the hardihood to offer to us the result of his first essay in manufacturing either of these articles. We do not even send an old shoe to be mended, except it be to a workman of whose skill we have had ample proof. Yet we commit our chil- dren to be educated to those who know nothing, absolutely nothing, of the complicated and difficult duties assigned to them. Shall we trust the development of the delicate bodies, the susceptible hearts, and the tender minds of our little chil- dren to those who have no knowledge of their nature ? Can they, can these rude hands, finish the workmanship of the Al- mighty ? No language can express the astonishment which a moment's reflection on this subject excites in me. But I must return to the examination of the qualifications of 215 i6 the female teachers of the primary summer schools, from which purpose I have unconsciously a little departed to indulge in a general remark. They are a class of teachers unknown in our laws regulating the schools, unless it be by some latitude of con- struction. No standard of attainments is fixed, at which they must arrive before they assume the business of instruction ; so that any one ^ee/>s school, which is a very different thing from teaching school, who wishes to do it, and can persuade, by her- self or her friends, a small district to employ her. And this is not a very difficult matter, especially when the remuneration for the employment is so very trifling. The farce of an examina- tion and a certificate from the minister of the town (for it is a perfect farce) amounts to no efficient check upon the obtrusions of ignorance and inexperience. As no standard is fixed by law, each minister makes a standard for himself, and alters it as often as the peculiar circumstances of the case require ; and there will always be enough of peculiar circumstances to render a refusal inexpedient. Let those who are conversant with the manner in which these schools are managed say whether this description of them un- dervalues their character and efificacy. Let those who conduct them pause and consider whether all is well, and whether there are not abuses and perversions in them, which call loudly for attention and reformation. Compare the acquirements, the ex- perience, the knowledge of teaching possessed by these in- structors, not one with another, — for the standard is much too low,— but with what they might be, under more favorable cir- cumstances and with proper preparation. Compare the im- provement made in these little nurseries of piety and religion, of knowledge and rational liberty, not one with another, — for the progress in all of them is much too slow, — but with what the infant mind and heart are capable of, at this early age, under the most favorable auspices. And there can be no doubt that all will arrive at the same conclusions, — a dissatisfaction with the condition of these schools, and an astonishment that the public have been so long contented with so small results from means which all will acknowledge capable of doing so niuch. The faults of the primary summer schools, then, are a want of adequate acquirements, a want of experience, and a total want of any direct preparation of their teachers for their em- ployment. These must be acknowledged to be great faults ; and they have affected, and will continue to affect, essentially, 2l6 I? the usefulness of the schools. Neither reason, observation, nor experience leaves reilecting men any consoling probability that these defects will be remedied, or the condition of the schools be essentially improved, under their present organization. As to the acquirements of female teachers, there is no standard to which they must be brought for decision, except on moral quali- fications. As to experience, they have usually none, and they can never have but little, because they are constantly leaving their employment and new teachers assuming it, without any system of their own or any plan laid down for their direction. As to direct preparation for the business of teaching, such a thing was never heard of. But cannot some system or arrange- ment be devised by which the experience or the results of the experience of those who have gone successfully over the ground may be communicated to the younger teachers without the necessity of their going over the same ground, and under pre- cisely the same disadvantages, all at the expense of the pupils ? Many of the above remarks upon the character and qualifica- tions of the teachers of the summer schools apply with equal force to the young men who undertake the instruction of the primary winter schools, which now constitute the highest class of schools to which the whole population of the State have free access. My remarks upon this class of instructors must also be general ; and, as all general rules have their exceptions, ever}^ individual will of course consider himself as particularly ex- cused. What are the acquirements of these young men who assume the delicate and responsible duty of governing and in- structing a school of fifty or a hundred children ? We have a catalogue, perhaps an ample one, of branches of knowledge which the laws suppose the candidates for the place of teacher to be possessed of. But who knows that they come up to estab- lished standard ? And who knows that they are fully possessed of the knowledge which the laws require ? And who knows, if they do possess it, that they will be able to communicate it to their pupils ? This is no trifling consideration in estimating the value and usefulness of an instructor. The laws provide that the minister and the selectmen of each town shall assure them- selves that their teachers possess the prescribed qualifications. The minister. Which minister ? There may be, and not infre- quently are, at the present day, half a dozen in the town. When the school law was enacted, in 1789, our towns were not broken up as they now are, and are likely to be for the future, into small parishes. 217 Here, then, are six ministers in the same town, of different denominations, of different characters, of different discrimina- tion, and of different qualifications, some of them, perhaps, hardly qualified to teach school themselves. Now which one or two among them all shall decide on the quaUfications of teach- ers ? Why not let every one decide on the qualifications of the instructors employed in his own parish ? This is very plausible, but not at all practicable. The different parishes are made up of families from every part of the town, whereas the several school districts are, and necessarily must be, laid out without any reference to them. The same school district, therefore, may, and probably will, contain families, many or few, from every parish in the town. Then some one of the six ministers may decide upon the qualifications of instructors for the whole town, which those belonging to other parishes than his own would certainly not agree to, or each must be clothed with that power for the whole. What ! will you allow the itinerant preacher, who has only stopped for a few Sabbaths or for a few months, to license instructors for the whole town ? This is a result which, it seems, must follow. But the minister must be " settled." Then comes the ques- tion, What is a " settled" minister ? When we are not in the heat of controversy, we can understand such ambiguous language. But the laws do not define what constitutes a settled minister. The " Cambridge Platform " is not the acknowl- edged law of the land upon this subject. The parish — and any thing is now a parish — may define the mode in which the relation between them and their preacher shall be solemnized. And who can interfere, and say that a preacher " settled " only by a vote of uplifted hands is not a minister within the intention of the school law of 1789? The looseness of this law has already led to difficulties in some places, and the only reason it has not in more is that there is too much indifference to the subject of schools and teachers generally to induce men to quarrel about them. We have a law, indeed, and a bench for justice ; but we have no judge, — or, rather, any one judges who chooses to do so. Other considerations readily suggest themselves to all who are acquainted with the relation subsisting between country clergymen and their parishes why they should be reUeved of the responsibility of deciding upon the qualifications of teachers. Experience has long since proved that their decision does not 218 19 insure to the public competent instructors, which alone is suffi- cient reason why the duty of selecting them should be imposed upon others. The clergy were once the only learned profession and almost the only learned men in New England. Now there are others. The task of deciding upon the qualifications of teachers is invidious, and those should perform it whose useful- ness depends least on popular favor. The young man who lays down his axe and aspires to take up the " rod " and rule in a village school has, usually, in common with other young men, a degree of dignity and self-complacency which it is dangerous to the extent of his power to disturb. And when he comes to his minister, sustained by his own influ- ence in the parish, and that of a respectable father and perhaps a large family of friends, and asks of him the legal approbation for a teacher, it is a pretty delicate matter to refuse it. A firm .and conscientious refusal of approbation to a schoolmaster has led in more instances than one to a firm and conscientious re- fusal to hear the minister preach ; and by the parish difficul- ties growing out of so small an affair he has found himself at last " unsettled " and thrown with his family, perhaps in his old age, upon the world to seek and gain his subsistence as he may. This is truly martyrdom. And martyrs in ordinary times are rare. Even good men can make peace with their consciences on better terms. So much for the literary qualifications of in- structors. It is the intention of the school law to secure good, moral characters in the public instructors by requiring the approbation as to this qualification of the selectmen of the town where the school is to be taught. No doubt selectmen are as good judges of morality as any body of men which could readily be ap- pealed to. But either we are a very moral people or they are not very discriminating; for instances are rare, indeed, of refusal of their approbation on this ground. If a young man be moral enough to keep out of State prison, he will find no difficulty in getting approbation for a schoolmaster. These things ought not to be so. Both the moral and the intellectual character of the rising generation are influenced more by their instructors, during the period of from four to twelve years of age, than by any cause so entirely within our control. It be- comes then of momentous concern to the community, in a moral and religious as well as in political point of view, that this in- fluence should be the greatest and the best possible. That it 219 20 is not now so, every one, I trust, who has followed me through my preceding essays is convinced. And if something be not done, and that speedily, to improve the condition of the free schools, and especially the primary suimjier schools, they will not only fail of their happiest influence, but in a short time of all influence which will be worth estimating. If the policy of the legislature in regard to free schools for the last twenty years be not changed, the institution which has been the glory of New England will, in twenty years more, be extinct. If the State continue to relieve itself of the trouble of providing for the instruction of the whole people, arid to shift the responsibility upon the towns, and the towns upon the districts, and the districts upon individuals, each will take care of himself and his own family as he is able, and as he appreciates the blessing of a good education. The rich will, as a class, have much better instruction than they now have, while the poor w-ill have much worse or none at all. The acad- emies and private schools will be carried to much greater per- fection than they have been, while the public free schools will become stationary or retrograde, till at length they will be thrown for support upon the gratuitous and of course capri- cious and uncertain efforts of individuals ; and then, like the lower schools of the crowded cities of Europe, they will soon degenerate into mere mechanical establishments, such as the famous seminaries of London, Birmingham, and INIanchester, of which we hear so much lately, not for rational, moral, and in- tellectual instruction of human beings, but for training young animals to march, sing, and draw figures in sand, — establish- ments in which the power of one man is so prodigiously multi- plied that he can overlook, direct, and control the intellectual exercises of a thousand ! And this wretched mockery of edu- cation they must be right glad to accept as a charity instead of inheriting as their birthright as good instruction as the country affords. The one man who did more to cast up a highway for Horace Mann than any other was Mr. James G. Carter, to whom Dr. Bar- nard says "more than to any other one person belongs the credit of having first attracted the attention of the leading minds of Massa- chusetts to the necessity of immediate and thorough improvement in the system of free or public schools, and having clearly pointed out the most direct and thorough mode of procuring that improvement 22.0 21 by providing for the training of competent teachers for these schools." Mr. Carter was born at Leominster, Massachusetts, in 1795, and was bred up a farmer's son. He worked his own way through the academy and college, graduating from Harvard in 1820. He was a fellow-student and personal friend of Warren Colburn, whose well- known text-books gave such an impetus to the study of arithmetic, and through arithmetic to the common schools. He continued to teach for a number of years after his graduation, and soon began to write for newspapers on educational subjects. To ability, scholar- ship, character, and interest in the subject, he added as qualifications for such work a thorough practical knowledge of the elementary and secondary schools of New England. In 1824 there appeared from his pen a pamphlet that is incomparably the best existing mirror of education in New England in the first quarter of this century. (Letters to the Honorable William Prescott^LL.D., on the Free Schools of Ne%v England, with Remarks upon the Principles of In- struction. Boston : Published by Cummings. Hilliard & Co., 1824, pp. 123.) Carter contends that the two principal causes which have operated against the free schools are bad teachers and bad text-books. He does not think that the incompetency of teachers is due to the negli- gence or indifference of the public so much as to the competition of business and professional life, which tends to prevent young men from becoming professional teachers. The men teachers may be divided into three classes: (i) Those who think teaching is easier and possibly a little more remunerative than common labor. (2) Those who are acquiring, or have acquired, a good education, and who take up teaching as a temporary employment, either to earn money for pressing necessities or to give themselves time to choose deliberately a regular profession. (3) Those who, conscious of weakness, despair of distinction or even the means of subsistence by other means. But Mr. Carter did not stop here. A few months later he con- tributed to a Boston journal a series of essays that dealt very largely with the same topics, and these essays were soon gathered up into a small volume. {Essays upon Popular Education, containing a Par- ticular Examination of the Schools of Massachusetts and an Otitline of an Institution for the Education of Teachers. By James' G. Carter. lioston : Bowles & Deerman, 1826.) Attention is again drawn to the incompetency of teachers, and the method of certificat- ing them is particularly examined. The law of 1789, which com- mitted the examination of teachers to the ministers in connection with the selectmen of the towns, worked very well while there was but one religious denomination and one minister in a town ; but now, owing to the multiplication of ministers growing out of the division of parishes, the growth of sects, and the lowering of the 221 22 average standard of ministerial education, it works very unsatis- factorily. But the essay that gives character to this publication is the last one, entitled " Outlines of an Institution for the Education of Teach- ers." It is distinctly creative in character. In nothing that had ap- peared from the press thus far had this subject been so carefully thought out and presented, so far as the United States are concerned, as in this celebrated essay. It justifies the title that George B. Emerson bestowed upon the author, " Father of Normal Schools." Mr. Carter contends that insufficient stress has been laid upon the professional preparation of teachers. A teacher must know how to impart knowledge. Education is a science, and must be taught as such. To do this work, the State should found and support an in- stitution that would be free to all its pupils. This institution should embrace (I) an appropriate library and philosophical apparatus ; (2) a principal and assistant professors in the different departments; (3) a school for children of different ages, embracing both those desiring a general education and those fitting for teachers; (4) a board of commissioners representing the interests and the wishes of the public. The proposed institution would set the standard of qualifications for teachers, and would give stability, influence, and dignity to the teaching profession. The proposed school bears no distinctive name ; the words " normal " and " normal school " do not occur in the essay, nor is there any recognition whatever -of similar schools that have been founded in Europe. In a foot-note to one of the letters to Prescott, Mr. Carter gives some account of Pestalozzi, drawing his information from the Edinburgh Re^'iew and a work on Switzerland. The philosophers whom he mentions are Stewart, Locke, and Dr. Watts. A bill that Carter prepared em- bodying his ideas was introduced into the legislature in 1S27, and failed of passing only by a single vote in the Senate. Mr. Carter's two pamphlets attracted immediate attention. Professor George Ticknor reviewed the Letters to Prescott in The A'orth American Review, and Dr. Orville Dewey the Essays tipoii Popular Education, in the same periodical. Theophihis Parsons reviewed the Letters in The L^iterary Gazette. These reviews were all highly commendatory. Tlie United States Revieiv also contained an article on Mr. Carter's institution for the educa- tion of teachers, the writer of which says that the country schools are everywhere degraded, and that they stand so low jn the estimation of their warmest friends that it is thought a mean thing for any man but the mechanic, the artisan, or the laborer to send his children to them for an education. . . . At the session of the legislature for 1836-37 the Directors of the American Institute of Instruction had memorialized that body to consider the expediency of appointing, for a term of years, a Superintendent of the Common Schools of the Commonwealth, urging th'e usual arguments in favor of the measure. Besides, Governor Everett, in his opening address, recommended the creation of a State Board of Education. The whole 23 subject was accordingly referred to the joint committee of the two houses on education. The committee reported the text of the act which was drawn by Mr. James G- Carter of the House of Representatives. At first, the measure was lost in the House by a vote of nearly two to one, but, owing to Mr. Carter's wise management and advocacy, was finally carried. It was the culmination of the agitation that he had first aided thirteen years before, and that he had continued to promote to the utmost until the end finally crowned the work. The first Board was made up with peculiar care. It was necessary to avoid arousing opposition as far as possible. Years afterward, in the midst of the great religious controversy, Mr. Mann explained the criteria that were followed in selecting the members. All the great parties into which the State was divided were regarded. First of all, religious views were considered, then political considerations. Preferences for men that the public had expressed by elevating them to official positions were thought important. And the element of locality, although considered among the weakest motives, was not wholly disregarded. Besides the ex officiis members, the list, when it appeared, carried the names of these distinguished citizens: James G. Carter, Emerson Davis, Edmund Dwight, Horace Mann, Edward A. Newton, Robert Rantoul, Jr., Thomas Robbins, and Jared Sparks. Carter and Rantoul, one a Whig and the other a Dem- ocrat, were taken from the House of Representatives. Mann, a Whig, came from the Senate. Dwight was a Unitarian, Newton an Episcopalian, both business men, while Davis and Robbins were orthodox clergymen. Sparks had formerly been a Unitarian minister, and w-as at the time President of Harvard College. The educators of the State generally expected that Mr. Carter would be made the Secretary of the Board, and the appointment of another was the source of much surprise and disappointment. This was not without rea- son. If any man could be said to have deserved the office, Mr. Carter was the man. His labors as a teacher and writer on popular education were universally appreciated, and the governor very properly placed his name at the head of the list of appointive Board members. But Mr. Carter was passed by and Horace Mann chosen. Mann had done what he could to promote the bill in the Senate, and was well known to be an ardent friend of public education : he had served as a tutor at Providence, and as mem- ber of the school committee at Dedham; but he had no record that could be compared with Mr. Carter's. It was not strange, therefore, that his pre- ferment should create surprise. The selection of Mr. Mann and his ac- ceptance were brought about by Mr. Edmund Dwight. Mr. Dwight, no doubt, appreciated the peculiar nature of the work to be done by the Sec- retary, and discerned in Mr. Mann peculiar fitness for this work. A busi- ness man himself of great capacity and large enterprises, he knew that a man might be a scholar, a teacher, and an able writer on education, and yet not possess the peculiar combination of qualities that would be neces- sary to crown the creation of the Secretaryship and of the Board of Educa- tion with success. Mr. Carter might have made an admirable Secretary; but it cannot be claimed, at this distance, that he had ever shown the necessary capacity for the work to be done. Mr. George B. Emerson, in the able contribution that he made to the controver.-^y growing out of Mr. Mann's Seventh Report, answered in the negative the question whether it would not have been better for the Board to choose a Secretary who was 223 24 engaged in the practical work of teaciiing, basing liis answer on general principles as well as on special facts. — From B. A. Hinsdale's ''Horace MaiDi and the Common School Revival in the United States. ^^ The extract from James G. Carter's Essays upon Popular Education printed in the urcsent leaflet gives a belter idea than any other writing of the period, unless it be the same writer's Letters to Hon. William Prescott published a few months previously, of the condi- tion of the schools of Massachusetts in the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Together with the warm and just tribute to Mr. Carter by Dr. Hinsdale, reprinted from his admirable little book on Horace Mann, it is hoped that it may perform a greatly needed service in redirecting attention to a devoted and far-seeing Massachusetts educator, a pioneer in educa- tional reform, whose fame h.^.s been eclipsed, and his revolutionary work and very name almost forgotten, through the conspicuousness of his great follower. Horace Mann's search- ing exposure of the condition and needs of our public schools, his eloquent pleas for better teachers and better text-books, his proposition for normal schools, and his demand for a new and more generous public spirit in the whole field of popular education are known by all. But few remember that James G. Carter anticipated him in all these points, and that he drew the bill creating the Massachusetts .State Hoard of Education, as whose secretary Mann did his epoch-making work. All of the early chapters of Hinsdale's Life of Mann should be read by the student, especially the chapter entitled " Horace Mann's Forerunners." See Old South Leaflet, No. 109, Horace .Mann's discussion of the Ground of the Free .School System, from his tenth annual report. .See, too, in connection with the studies of Emerson's life and times, Emerson's noble and prophetic lecture on Education. Emer.-on was deeply interested in the reforms urged by Carter and Mann. Mr. Carter was instrumental in founding the American Institute of Instruction. This, our oldest existing society of the kind, was formally organized in a convention of teachers and others interested, held in Boston in August, 1830. President Francis Wayland of Brown University gave the introductory address and was chosen the first president. At this convention Mr. Carter gave a vital and stimulating address upon the " Development of the Mental Faculties and the 'I'eaching of Geography," which appears in the first volume pub- lislied by the Institute. In 1S30 also he published a " Geography of Massachusetts," a little volume with a map, which to-day serves equally as a monument of advance upon things before and of the immense advance since. It enforced and illustrated a central point of Mr. Carter's. The geographies generally began with descriptions of the solar system. Mr. Carter said : " The subject is begun precisely at the wrong end." " We need to know most concerning those places which are nearest us " Hence his little geography of Massachu- setts. He also wrote a "Geography of New Hampshire" ; and he was the author of a work on Middlesex and Worcester Counties, besides various addresses not mentioned above. He died in Chicago in 1849. His home for many years was in Lancaster, Mass., which town he represented several years in the legislature. In the last year of his life he was bitterly attacked by a body of enemies in ihe town, who petitioned that his commission as justice of the peace be taken away. The legislative heiring resulted in his unanimous vindication. It is of interest from the fact that he was defended by Rufus Choate and Hon. Pliny Merrick, whose speeches can be read in the libraries ; and Mr. Choate's eloquent tribute to Mr. Car- ter's character and services makes some distinct additions to our knowledge of the details of his life and public .service. PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK Old South Wleeting-house, Boston, Mass. 324 #lli ^outl) HeafletiBf. No. ,36. Boston at the Beginningofthe 19th Century. BY TIMOTHY DWIGHT. FroDi rresiJeiit Divii^Iifs " Travels in N'c^o Eiiglaiui?'' Boston, the capital of Massachusetts and the principal town in New England, lies in 42° 22' 23" North latitude, and in 70° 58' 53" West of London. It is built on a peninsula at the bottom of Massachusetts Bay. This peninsula is one mile, three-fourths, and fifty-seven rods in length, and one mile and forty-two rods in breadth ; of a very irregular form, and not easily described. It contains between seven hundred and eight hundred acres, and, with a population occupying the whole ground and conveniently spread, would contain seven thousand houses and from sixty to seventy thousand inhabitants. To the main it is united by an isthmus, in length one mile and eleven rods. The whole length of the township is almost three miles. The isthmus is already built upon to a considerable extent, and at a period not very distant will probably be covered with houses. Boston contains one hundred and thirty-five streets, twenty- one lanes, eighteen courts, and, it is said, a few squares ; although, I confess, I have never seen anything in it to which I should give that name. The streets, if we except a small number, are narrow, crooked, and disagreeable. The settlers appear to have built where they wished, where a vote permitted, or where danger or necessity forced them to build. The streets strike the eye of a traveller as if intended to be mere passages from one neighborhood to another, and not as the open, hand- 225 some divisions of a great town : as the result of casualty, and not of contrivance. It deserves to be remembered that almost all the great cities in the world have been formed in a similar manner. London, Paris, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Madrid, Vienna, Moscow, Constan- tinople, Cairo, Aleppo, etc., are all principally built on wretched streets and with a deplorable confusion. The founders of Nineveh and Babylon seem to have been the only ancients who understood this subject. Whence these men acquired such largeness of heart it will be difficult to determine, unless we suppose Nineveh to have derived its noble form from tradition- ary remains of antediluvian improvement, and Babylon to have been a copy of Nineveh. The Chinese have, indeed, formed their cities with regularity ; but their streets, except a few of those in Pekin, are very narrow and inconvenient. Why the Greeks, who readily adopted the improvements of other countries ami originated so many of their own, neglected an article of such importance, — an article, too, with which they were perfectly acquainted, — it is not easy to explain. It is remarkable that the scheme of forming public squares, so beautiful, and in great towns so conducive to health, should have been almost universally forgotten. Nothing is so cheerful, so delightful, or so susceptible of the combined elegancies of nature and art. On these open grounds the inhabitants might always find sweet air, charming walks, fountains refreshing the atmosphere, trees excluding the sun, and, together with tine (lowering shrubs, presenting to the eye the most ornamental objects fomul in the country. Here, also, youth and little children might enjo)' those sports, those voluntary indulgences, which in fresh air are, peculiarly to them, the sources of health and the prolongation of life. Yet many large cities are utterly destitute of these appendages ; and in no city are they s.") numerous as the taste for beautv and a regard for health compel us to wish. We are not, however, to wonder that so much imperfection should be found in the plan of Boston. Those who formed it were in a sense exiles, forced to leave their country on account of their religion. In many instances they had been plundered of their property, and in many were poor from other causes^ They were few, ill-furnished with the means of living remote from supplies, and in doubt and distress concerning the future subsistence of their families. At the same time, they were sur- 226 rounded by savages, and of course exposed to hostilities which must be dreaded, but could not be foreseen. To provide means of defence for themselves and their children, and to fulfil the demands of religion and good neighborhood, constituted the sum of their duties and enjoyments. Their object was not to lay the foundations of a great city, but to secure a refuge for themselves ; not to make their descendants great, but to estab- lish them in the possession of civil and religious liberty. Men in these circumstances and entertaining these views can scarcely be supposed to direct even their imaginations, much less their sober plans, to means of future and distant elegance. A moderate share of comfort for themselves and for their children naturally engrosses all their thoughts, and satisfies their utmost ambition. Had Boston been laid out in some such manner as the fol- lowing : had the main street been carried with a breadth of one hundred and twenty feet from the southern limit to the north- ern, and accompanied by others running parallel to it, ninety feet wide, and sufficiently numerous to occupy the whole ground ; had these been crossed at right angles by others of a corresponding breadth ; had ten open squares been formed at the proper intersections of the principal streets, the largest containing ten, and the smallest five acres, all beautified with selected ornaments ; or had some other plan, substantially resembling this and directed by the nature of the ground, been completed, — Boston would even now have been the most beauti- ful town that the world has ever seen. No spot of ground is a happier site for a large city. Its surface is most agreeably varied. Three hills of considerable size relieve it from the tameness of a dead flat. They are advantageously posited. Beacon Hill ascends on the west, Copp's Hill on the north, and Fort Hill on the east. They furnish the most eligible situa- tions for private, and especially for public, buildings, and yield ample means for conveying off the water rapidly, and of keeping the streets, yards, and gardens continually clean and sweet.* All the streets, except Main Street at the South End, would in this case have terminated on the water, and assumed the appearance of vistas opening on this beautiful object. The * Beacon Hill received its name from being resolved on as a spot where a beacon was to be customarily erected. A fort, anciently built on Fort Hill, gave it this name. Copp's Hill was so called from the first owner of the ground, whose name was Copp. From the appearance of these hills at Charlestown, the first settlement in this neighborhood, Boston was originally called " Trimountain." surrounding scenery, exquisite in its variety and beauty, would have been visible and new at every little distance. On both sides of such streets might have been set handsome rows of trees, so eminently delightful in a city, and so necessary as a shelter from our summer sun. At the same time they would have been ventilated by every wind that blew, and would have assured the inhabitants of the utmost health, furnished by our cHmate. Who that has any taste for the beauties of nature or any regard for the health and happiness of his fellow-men will not regret that some plan like this was not formed at the origi- nal settlement of Boston ? A great number of houses in this town are indifferent build- ings, — indifferent, I mean, for a place of such distinction ; and a considerable number deserve this character in the absolute sense. Many of them are of wood : some of these are hand- some. The reasons why Boston, considered at large, is not so well built as New York and Philadelphia, are obvious. Com- pared with these cities, Boston is ancient. Philadelphia was a forest in the beginning of the year 1682, fifty-two years after the settlement of Boston. New York, although settled by the Dutch planters in the year 161 4, was a little trading village long after Boston was a great commercial town. For more than a century the inhabi- tants of Boston imported the merchandise of Europe, particu- larly of Great Britain, for the people of New York. In the year 1774 Philadelphia did not contain more than one-fourth and New York one-fifth of its present number of houses. Boston, on the contrary, increased very little during the last century until after the year 1790. A large proportion of its buildings were, therefore, erected at periods when the inhabitants were in humble circumstances, and their knowledge in architecture was very defective. Some of them are mere relics of the seventeenth century. The people of New York and Philadelphia to a great extent live also in hired houses, built by a moderate number of men able and interested to build such as are good. The people of Boston as a body have very generally lived in their own houses. Each man, therefore, builds according to his ability; and you need not be informed that the greater number of people in any city must in this case fall much below the boundary of elegance. The modern houses in this town are, however, superior to 228 5 those of every American city. These are scattered in great numbers throughout most parts of the town. In West Boston and still more on Mount Vernon (the modern name of Beacon Hill) they appear with peculiar advantage. Until within a few years the last-mentioned spot was almost absolutely a waste. In the year 1796 it was purchased by three gentlemen of Boston, and all its roughnesses and irregularities removed at a prodigious expense, its steep western declivity cut down, and a field of near thirty acres converted into one of the most beautiful building grounds in the world. A great part of this field is already covered with elegant houses, some of them superb, and in splendor of building and nobleness of situation is not on this side of the Atlantic within many degrees of a rival. There are several pretty streets in Boston. Among them Franklin Place, a street of four hundred and eighty feet in length, fifty feet in breadth at the two ends, and one hundred feet at the centre, is particularly handsome. The middle of the street is a grass plat surrounded by trees, and guarded by posts and chains. The name is derived from a monument of Dr. Franklin, who was a native of this town. In 1692 a law was enacted by the Legislature of the Colony requiring that " no dwelling-house, shop, warehouse, barn, stable, nor any other housing of more than eight feet in length or breadth and seven feet in height, should thenceforth be erected and set up in Boston, but of stone or brick, and cov- ered with slate or tile, unless where in a case of necessity, certified by a majority of the justices and selectmen, the gov- ernor, with advice of council, should give permission." In this law a reference is had to a similar one enacted in 1688. I think there was at least one such law in being antecedently to this date. Several others have been made in latter times. The last was June 14, 18 10. All which have- preceded this have been evaded, or in some other manner have proved inefficacious. It is to be hoped that after the severe lessons which the inhabitants have been taught by fire the last law will be implicitly obeyed. The water in the pumps, which exist everywhere, is much better than in those of New York and Philadelphia. Gardens also, of considerable extent, and well furnished with vegetables, flowers, and sometimes with fruit-trees, adorn many parts of this town. Nothing can have a more cheerful aspect in the midst of a city. 229 The public buildings are eighteen churches,* — ten Presby- terian, three Episcopal, two Baptist, one Methodist, one Roman Catholic, and one Universalist, — a State HouS'C, a Court House, Faneuil Hall, a gaol, a workhouse, a bridewell, a town- house, an almshouse, a medical college, a custom-house, and a theatre.! Several of the Presbyterian churches are new and handsome buildings, particularly that in Federal Street, the new South Church, the church in Hollis Street, and that in Park Street. The last stands in a very eUgible situation. The others are generally decent buildings. The State House, which stands on the eastern side of Beacon Hill, has a most noble and commanding position. It is one hundred and seventy-three feet in length and sixty-one in breadth. It consists of a basement story twent}^ feet in height, a principal thirty feet in height, and in the centre an attic twenty feet in height, extending sixty feet and covered with a pediment. Above this is a dome fifty feet in diameter and thirty in height, and above this a circular lantern crowned with a gilt pine cone. The basement story is divided into a large hall, two entries containing, each, two flights of stairs, and the offices of the treasurer and secretary. In the second story are the Representatives' chamber, fifty-five feet square, the Senate chamber, fifty-five by thirty-three, and the Council chamber, twenty-seven feet square, together with about twenty other rooms of inferior consequence. This building is finished in a rich style, and cost about ^40,000 sterling. The almshouse is a handsome building beautifully situated on a point in the western part of the town. I know of no structure destined to the same purpose which can be compared with it either in site or appearance. $ The other public buildings exhibit nothing to the eye deserv- ing of any particular attention. § The bridges which connect this town with the main have higher claims. The first of these in order is Charles River bridge which unites this town with Charlestown. This was the * Now 24 (1820) : eleven Presbyterian [Congregational], four Episcopal, three Baptist, two Methodist, two Universalist, one Roman Catholic, and one African Church. — Pub. t There have since been erected an additional Court House and a General Hospital.— Pub. X A handsomer is now building in New York, 1815. §The new Court House, the General Hospital, of which only the centre building and one of the wings are yet erected, and the new Episcopal church in Common Street are inferior to no building's of the same kind in the country. They are all of the gray granite, a material for building inferior to no other for durability and beauty. — Pub. 230 first effort to erect a bridge over a broad river in the American states. A brief account of its origin will not be destitute of interest. Judge Russell, the gentleman whom I have mentioned in an earlier chapter, was long and ardently desirous that a bridge should be erected between these towns. As he advanced in years, he became more and more solicitous to see the work accomplished. His son, the late Hon. Thomas Russell, and his son-in-law, the late Hon. John Lowell, district judge of Massachusetts, together with several other gentlemen connected with them, were earnestly desirous to see the wishes of this venerable man realized. At that time it was universally be- lieved that for a river so wide, and a current so strong a float- ing bridge was the only practicable structure of this nature. They, therefore, engaged a gentleman to obtain for them a cor- rect account of the construction, expense, convenience, and security of the floating bridge then lying on the Schuylkill at Philadelphia. Several other persons at that time bound to Europe they requested, also, to furnish them with similar in- formation concerning bridges in that quarter of the globe. While this business was in agitation, both the gentlemen being on a visit at Cambridge, during the session of the Supreme Judicial Court, they made the projected bridge a subject of conversation with the Hon. David Sewall, one of the judges. In the course of this conversation the designs mentioned above were particularly stated. On his return to York, the place of his residence, Judge Sewall communicated this infor- mation to his brother. Major Sewall, a gentleman distinguished for peculiar mechanical talents. After being informed that the difficulties presented by the stream furnished the only reason for erecting a floating bridge. Major Sewall observed that a fixed bridge might be so constructed as easily, and certainly to be secure from the dangers of the current. His brother re- quested him to state his views to the gentlemen concerned. Accordingly, he formed and communicated a scheme for the intended structure. After this scheme had been thoroughly examined, the original design was relinquished, and the present bridge begun. At the request of the undertakers Major Sewall came to Boston, and continued to superintend the work until he had completely possessed the builders of the principles on which it was to be accomplished. The facts I had from Judge Lowell himself. I have recited them merely to do justice to merit to which justice has not hitherto been publicly done. Major Sewall I never saw ; but I think him deserving of a high tribute of respect from every American, as a source of those vast improvements which have been made throughout the United States in this interesting branch of architecture, Charlestown bridge was finished in 1787. It is built on seventy-five wooden piers, and is forty-two feet in breadth and one thousand five hundred and three in length, the river being here two hundred and eighty feet wider than the Thames at Westminster Bridge, and six hundred and three feet wider than the same river at London Bridge, ft is also deeper. Foot- ways are formed on each side. The centre rises insensibly two feet higher than the ends. The bridge was built by two able and ingenious American artists, Messrs. Cox and Stone, and cost $50,000. About forty large bridges have been built in the United States in consequence of the erection of this structure. West Boston bridge is a more expensive and a more interest- ing object. It is made up of four parts : — Feet. The abutment on the Boston side in length 87-i^ Principal bridge 3483 Second bridge 275 Causeys 3'344 Total 7,189! This bridge is forty feet wide, and is executed in the same manner. The principal bridge stands on one hundred and eighty piers, the second on fourteen. The sides of the causeys are stoned, capstained, and railed, and accompanied by a canal thirty feet wide. The whole work was accom- plished under the direction of Major Whiting, of Norwich (Connecticut), at the expense of $76,700, about ;^i7,25o sterl- ing. It was begun July 15, 1792, and was opened November 23, 1793- It is finished with more neatness than the Charles- town bridge. A third bridge has been built over this river from West Boston to Lechmere's Point in Cambridge by Dr. Craigie, . a wealthy inhabitant of Cambridge. This bridge is two thousand seven hundred and forty feet long and fifty-six broad. A branch bridge connects the centre of Craigie's Bridge with State Prison Point in Charlestown. A fourth bridge crosses the inlet on the south-eastern side of 232 Boston, and unites it with South Boston, formerly Dorchester Neck. This also differs immaterially from those already de- scribed.* Boston contains a considerable number of incorporated so- cieties, commercial, literary, and charitable. The commer- cial societies are, first, two banks, — Massachusetts Bank, whose capital is $400,000, or ^90,000 sterling ; and Union Bank, whose capital is $800,000, or ^180,000 sterling.! There are also several insurance I companies and a Cham- ber of Commerce in this town. The literary societies are the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, American Antiquarian Society, Massachusetts Medical Society, Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston Library Society, Massachusetts Agricultural Society, Boston Athenseum, — an institution substantially resembling that of the same name in Liverpool, etc.§ The charitable societies in this town are : the Massachu- setts Congregational Charitable Society, institvited for the relief *An Act passed the Legislature in 1815, authorizing the erection of a mill-dam across the basin which separates Boston from Roxbury and Brookline. The work was commenced in 1818 under the direction of Uriah Cotting, Esq., a gentleman to whose energy and enter- prise the town had previously been indebted for the erection of Broad Street, New Market Street, and Central Wharf. Mr. Cotting died in 1819. The mill-dam is nearly completed. It is upwards of one and three-quarters of a mile in length, and fifty feet in breadth. The expense of this work will exceed half a million of dollars. No enterprise of a similar nature comparable to this has been commenced on this side of the Atlantic. — Pub. tThe banks in Boston in 1820 and the amount of their capitals were as follows : — Capital. Massachusetts Bank #1,600,000 Union Bank 800,000 Boston Bank 900,000 State Bank 1,800,000 New England Bank 1,000,000 Manufacturers and Mechanics Bank 750,000 Sulifolk Bank 500,000 A branch of the Bank of United States 750,000 — Ptii. jThe insurance companies in 1820 were : — Ciipital. Massachusetts Fire and Marine 400,000 Massachusetts Mutual Fire 300,000 Boston Marine 300,000 Suffolk 300,000 New England Marine 300,000 Union 300,000 American 300,000 Merchants 300,000 Eagle 100,000 — Pub. §1 have not been able to obtain any good account of the Boston Athensum. From an advertisement published by the secretary of the institution, I have learned that it is under the direction of a Board of Trustees, and that the Library contains about eighteen thousand volumes, which are the property of the institution. Among these are many valuable works in various languages, and in different branches in literature and science. Many of them are very rare in this country, and some of the editions very splendid. A great part of both are lO of destitute widows and children of deceased ministers ; Boston Episcopal Charitable Societ)^ ; the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel ; the Massachusetts Missionary Society ; Massa- chusetts Bible Society ; Evangelical Missionary Society ; So- ciety for Promoting Christian Knowledge ; American Education Society ; the Humane Society, instituted for the relief of dis- tressed seamen ; the Baptist Education Fund ; the Boston Female Asylum ; and the Boston Dispensary. Beside these there is the Boston Mechanic Association. From these institutions, which include in the number of their immediate agents a great proportion of the wealth, talents, and influence of this town, you will easily believe that commerce, learning, and charity engross here no inconsiderable share of attention. This is the only large town within my knowledge in which schools have been formed into a system. That which is pur- sued here is excellent, and, if we consider the spirit and punctuality with which it is apparently executed, reflects high honor on the good sense and liberality of the inhabitants. The pubhc schools are seven in number, — six of them English, the other a Latin grammar school. Into the English schools chil- dren of both sexes are admitted at seven years of age, and may continue until they are fourteen. Boys cannot be ad- mitted into the grammar school until they have reached the age of ten.* These schools are visited and regulated by a committee of twenty-one gentlemen, annually chosen, and invested with ample powers for the purposes of their commission. It is the duty of these gentlemen " to visit the schools once in three months ; to examine the scholars in the various branches in donations. Tlie collection of French literary and philosophical journals, of political and periodical publications, and of works relating to the history of this country, is supposed not to be exceeded in the United States. Two-thirds of the original funds of the institution have been invested in a building and in a permanent fund, the interest of which only is to be annually expended. A large and valuable collection of medals has been lately made, intended for the inspec- tion of the public. A collection of minerals also has been begun. The institution is prosperous, and is certainly very honorable to the town, and particu- larly to the gentlemen who have raised it to such a degree of respectability. * Primary public schools have lately been established for the instruction of children be- tween four and seven years of age. ' The whole number of primary schools in operation January, 1821, was thirty-five. The number of children belonging to these schools was one thousand eight hundred and six, — girls eight hundred and eighty-five, boys nine hundred and twenty-one. A general regula- tion is that no school shall have less than forty nor more than fifty children attached to it. The instructors are all females, and are paid two hundred and forty dollars per annum in quarterly payments in full, for school-room, fuel, etc. These public primary schools are considered as superior to the private ones, the chil- dren of the first class in the former having higher studies and greatei lessons than those of the fourth class at the latter. — Pub. 1 1 which they are taught ; to devise the best methods for the in- struction and government of the schools ; to give such advice to the masters as they shall judge expedient ; and by all proper means to excite in the children a laudable ambition to excel in virtuous, amiable deportment, and in every branch of useful knowledge." At the annual visitation in July, 1795, thirteen hundred chil- dren were instructed in these schools. At the examination in August, 1803, the number of children was one thousand six hundred and nineteen, — nine hundred and seventy-four boys and six hundred and forty-five girls. The attention here paid to this object may be conjectured from the character of the persons who were present. These, besides the committee, were the lieutenant governor, the council- lors, and senators, belonging to the County of Suffolk, the Representatives, clergy, and justices, of Boston, and the Sheriff of the county, together with several other gentlemen of distinction. The number of private schools is great. Boston was divided in the year 1775 into twelve wards. Its police, like that of all other towns in New England, is in the hands of selectmen, of whom nine are annually chosen to superintend its internal affairs. Besides these a great number of other officers are employed in the different departments of this business. The most enlightened inhabitants have long since perceived that a more energetic police than the present is necessary for the best government of so large a town. To obtain this benefit, efforts have heretofore been made ; but they have hitherto been unsuccessful, the majority of the inhabitants being strongly attached to the present system. A Bostonian admits with no small reluctance, if he admits at all, that he needs any regula- tions which are not equally necessary for an inhabitant of Worcester or Northampton. These towns, he is well assured, are perfectly well regulated by town meetings and selectmen. " yVhy," he naturally asks, " may not Boston be equally well regulated by the same authority ? " Where the spirit of liberty is on so high a key, new restraints will scarcely be welcomed by the mere conviction of their expediency. Necessity only, and that Httle less than absolute, will persuade most men to admit cheerfully the unpleasant change from a smaller to a greater number of restrictions. 235 12 Were the government of Boston to be placed in the hands of a mayor, aldermen, and common council, vested with the usual powers, they would still be unable to exert those powers so as to control the affairs of this town in a manner sufficiently effi- cacious. The fires of a century and a half have hardly forced the consent of the inhabitants to build with brick and stone or to cease from accumulating additional materials for a conflagra- tion. The evils which they have hitherto suffered from a feeble police are far from being such as to awaken a general belief that a more energetic one is necessary. In these re- marks I intend no censure on the Bostonians. They would probably adopt such a measure as readily as any other people in the like circumstances. But no body of people now existing in the United States would adopt it but from mere necessity. Should it be said that several towns in Connecticut have so- licited such a mode of government, my answer is that these towns in their solicitation aimed at totally other objects, and that their police now is not a whit more efficient than it was before. The poUce of Pekin is in a sense perfect, because it is invested with absolute authority. The same perfection cannot be attained without the same power. The only substitute for this purpose in a free country is a more virtuous and thorough education of children than has hitherto been found among the human race. The commerce of Boston is very extensive, and is carried on with every part of the globe. The coasting trade is inferior to that of New York. Still it is great. Its direct commerce also is less. Its circuitous commerce is probably greater. The following statement will exhibit the amount of its im- ports for ten years, commencing with 1801, in an imperfect manner. It is an abstract of the duties on imports : — Vears. Duties. 180I 52,926,538 1802 2,181,888 1303 2,005,587 1804 3-471.382 1805 3,718,002 i8c6 4,010,010 1807 472,751 1808 1.495.S33 1809 1,620,291 1810 2,773,675* 13 There are upwards of eighty wharves and quays in the harbor of Boston. Of these the principal is Boston Pier or Long Wharf, the most considerable structure of this kind in the United States, Its length from the bottom of State Street is one thousand seven hundred and forty-three feet, and its breadth one hundred and four. At the end the water is seven- teen feet deep, when lowest. Hancock's Wharf and India Wharf are also very important works of the same nature. On the latter of these is a splendid collection of stores, built and arranged with singular elegance, and far excelling everything of the kind on this side of the Atlantic* This undertaking, and that by which Mount Vernon has been covered with noble houses, has, it is beUeved, been rarely excelled in the history of individual enterprise. Broad Street, which connects India Wharf with Boston Pier, is also very beautifully lined with stores. Stores are also built on the north side of Boston Pier throughout the whole length, some of them handsome. A view of these structures, whether single or successive, lends a magnificence to commerce which it can boast on no other spot of North America. The quantity of shipping owned in this town is very great. The liveliest impression that was ever made on my mind of cheerful activity has been communicated by the vast multitude of boats and larger vessels moored in this harbor or moving over its waters in a thousand directions. The manufactures of Boston are numerous and considerable. Among them are soap, candles, chocolate, loaf sugar, beer, rum, cordage, duck, cards, pot and pearl ashes, paper hangings, plate glass, various manufactures in brass, cannon, bells, etc., etc. There are here thirty distilleries, eight sugar houses, and two breweries. Before the fire of July 30, 1794, there were fourteen ropewalks. Seven of them were then consumed, several of which have since been rebuilt. The chocolate made in this town by Cunningham fifty years ago was superior to any which has ever been made in the United States. The best window glass made here excels any which is im- ported. * Since this account was written there "have been erected in 1817, on both sides of Market Street, a block of stores, four hundred and eighty-five feet in length on one side and four hundred and forty-two on the other, and four stories high; and on Central Wharf another immense pile of building was completed the same year, one thousand two hundred and forty feet in length, containing fifty-four stores, four stories high, and having a spacious hall in the centre, over which is erected an elegant observatory." Worcester's Gazetteer.— Pub. ^2>7 14 The wealth of Boston is great. Individuals have risen to high opulence in greater numbers, compared with the mass of population, than in any other large town of the United States. The Bostonians, almost without an exception, are derived from one country and a single stock. They are all descendants of Englishmen, and, of course, are united by all the great bonds of society, — language, religion, government, manners, and interests. You will easily believe, therefore, that they exhibit as much unity of character as can accord with the nature of free and civilized society. With a very small number of exceptions, they speak the English language in the English manner, are Protestants, hold the great principles of English liberty, are governed voluntarily by the English common law, and by statutes strongly resembling those of Great Britain, under a Constitution essentially copied from the British, and by courts in almost every respect the same. Their education, also, differs very little in the school, the shop, the counting- house, or the university. Although they are Republicans, and generally Congregationalists, they are natively friends of good order and firm government, and feel the reputation of Old Massachusetts in much the same manner as an Englishman feels the honor of Old England. You will remember that every New Englander, with hardly an exception, is taught to read, write,' and keep accounts. By means of this privilege, knowledge is probably more universally diffused here than in any other considerable town in the world. A great number of the inhabitants, also, have been liberally educated. In examining a Catalogue of the members of the University in Cambridge a short time since, I observed that about one-fourth of the whole number were natives of Boston. Persons of this character, from the state of society, mix more freely and converse more generally than in other countries with those of every class. Hence, also, information is more uni- versally diffused. Boston contains about thirty-four thousand inhabitants,* a population sufficiently great to insure all the benefits of refined society, and yet so small as to leave the character of every man open to the observation of every other.f Here a man is not, as in London, lost in an immense crowd of people, and thus hidden from the inspection of his fellow-men, but is known and *i8io. t In 1820 Boston, including Chelsea, and the islands in the harbor, contained forty-three thousand eight luuidred and ninety-three inhabitants. — Piih. 2.^8 15 is conscious that he is known. His virtues and his vices, his wisdom and his folly, excite here much the same attention and are examined in much the same manner as in a country village. A strong sense of the public approbation or disapprobation, therefore, cannot fail to reach every man who is not stupid. All offices and honors are at the same time conferred here by the general suffrage ; and success at elections depends, at least in a great measure, on the candidate's supposed character. Of course, every man will feel the influence of these considera- tions, — every man, I mean, who feels even a remote wish to obtain a public office. Popular elections are in a great measure the result of popular prejudices and passions. To excite these in his own favor is a principal object of every ambitious man. A town of this size will furnish no small advantages to a demagogue in the pursuit of this object. It is easier to excite to madness the common people of a large town than the more cautious and sober in- habitants of a village. In every such town, demagogues will be found, and the success which will attend their ingenious efforts will compel better men to resemble them at least in civility. Boston is distinguished for its habits of business. A man who is not believed to follow some useful business can scarcely acquire or retain even a decent reputation. A traveller pass- ing through it is struck with the peculiar appearance of activity everywhere visible. Almost all whom he meets move with a sprightliness differing very sensibly from what he observes in New York and Philadelphia. Not less distinguished are the inhabitants, particularly the middle and inferior classes, for their intelligence and informa- tion. In a singular degree are they acquainted with the affairs of the town itself and with the residence and character of almost every inhabitant. I have rarely met a child who could not tell me both the street and the house for which I inquired. Nor are they less distinguished for civility. A Bostonian, if not pressed by business of his own, will readily accompany a stranger to the house which he wishes to find, and will scarcely appear to feel as if he had conferred the least obligation. In the superior classes this disposition appears often with peculiar advantage. Better tables are nowhere spread than in Boston ; and no- where does a guest find himself more at ease, more secure from 239 i6 solicitations, or entertained with more graceful or cordial hospi- tality. The best bred women here are charming examples of grace and amenity. The people of Boston are characteristically distinguished by a lively imagination, an ardor easily kindled, a sensibility soon felt and strongly expressed, a character more resembling that of the Greeks than that of the Romans. They admire where graver people would only approve, detest where cooler minds would only dislike, applaud a performance where others w^ould listen in silence, and hiss where a less susceptible audience would only frown. This character renders them sometimes more, sometimes less, amiable ; usually less cautious, and often more exposed to future regret. From this source their lan- guage is frequently hyperbolical, and their pictures of objects in any way interesting highly colored. Hence, also, their enterprises are sudden, bold, and some- times rash. A general spirit of adventure prevails here, which in numerous instances has become the means of attempts made with honor and success in cases where many of their commer- cial neighbors would have refused to adventure at all. The manner in which they commenced the trade of Nootka Sound,^ and circumnavigated the globe, advantageously illustrates this observation. A ship belonging to Joseph Barrell, Esq., and others sailed round the earth three times, and a sloop of mod- erate size once. Few merchants in America would, I believe, have resolved on these enterprises, and few seamen executed them. On the other hand, the dealers in Georgia lands found many more customers in Boston than in New York. The tea shipped to Boston by the East India Company was destroyed.. In New York and Philadelphia it was stored. From the same source, also, both persons and things are sud- denly, strongly, and universally applauded or censured. Indi- viduals of distinction command a popularity which engrosses the public mind and rises to enthusiasm. Their observations and their efforts are repeated with wonder and delight, and such as do not join in the chorus of applause hazard the sus- picion of being weak, envious, or malevolent. When the sym- pathetic ardor is terminated, the persons who have received this tribute of admiration are without any change of character re- garded, perhaps, through life as objects deserving of no pecu- liar esteem or attachment. This characteristic is, indeed, found in every large city. Every such city has at every period 240 17 its great men, made great by the fashion and for the moment, — men who yet descend soon and finally to the common level, and who, nevertheless, during that moment see others really great and eminently good forgotten amid the adulation given to themselves. From this ardor springs in the inhabitants of this town, espe- cially in the middle and lower classes, a pronunciation un- usually rapid. As they are all of English origin, they are perfectly free from the multiform brogue which salutes the ears of a traveller in the cities of New York and Philadelphia. Their language is probably superior in its purity to that of the same classes in the city of London, as their education is much better ; but the rapidity of their pronunciation contracts, fre- quently, two short syllables into one, and thus renders the lan- guage, in itself too rough, still rougher by a violent junction of consonants which in the spelling were separated. Dissyllables accented on the first and terminating the last with a liquid, particularly with /, «, or w, they pronounce in such a manner as to leave out the sound of the vowel. Thus Sweden, Britain, garden, vessel, are extensively pronounced Swed''n, Brifn, gard'ii, vess''l. By this contraction, also, the harshness of the language is increased. The syllable ing^ when unaccented, many of them pronounce en, as exceeden for exceeding, aspiren for aspiring, etc. This pronunciation I have re- marked in most Englishmen whom I have seen ; and it may be the prevailing one in England. It is, however, an unneces- sary, useless departure from the sound indicated by the letters, and the loss of one variety of pleasing sounds in our language, denoted by the semi-vowel, which we write 7ig. Like the inhabitants of most other large cities, they often omit the aspirate in words beginning with wh, pronouncing, for ex- ample, wheat and wharf iveat and warf^ etc. Several of the most fashionable people have lately and I think unhappily adopted the harsh anti-English pronunciation of the vowel u^ foisted upon the language by Sheridan, and derived from the brogue of his native country. The Boston Style is a phrase proverbially used throughout a considerable part of this country to denote a florid, pompous manner of writing, and has been thought by persons at a dis- tance to be the predominant style of this region. It cannot be denied that several publications written in this manner have issued from the press here, and for a time been much cele- 241 brated. Most of the orations delivered on the 5th of March may be produced as CKamples. Still, it has never been true that this mode of writing was either general in this town or adopted by men of superior talents. The most respectable writers here have been distinguished for the chasteness and simplicity of their compositions. The papers published by the Legislature of this State on the embargo, and the measures con- nected with it, are inferior, in no kind of merit, to those of any public body in the world. The people of this town are distinguished by their attach- ment to literature. Their pecuniary contributions to this object have exceeded those of any city in the American Union. In- deed, the liberality exhibited in most of the towns on this coast is unrivalled on this side the Atlantic. Accordingly, there are here many more men in proportion to the whole number lib- erally educated than in New York, and far more than in any other town in America. There is also a much more extensive diflEusion of intelligence and information among all classes of people. When the first proposal was made to establish a theatre in this town, a considerable number of the inhabitants eagerly engaged in forwarding the design. Accordingly, a theatre was built, and soon after that another. There is reason to believe that the stage is now regarded with very general indifference. One of the theatres has been already taken down, and the other, it is said, is far from being crowded. An honorable specimen of the Bostonian character was lately exhibited. Two young gentlemen (natives) fought a duel. One of them was killed, the other fled. The inhabitants with one voice manifested an unequivocal wish to have the law ex- ecuted upon the survivor. Even his own friends are said to have made no efforts in his favor. It is doubted whether the same opposition to this crime, and the same respect for the decisions of law, would be found in a similar case in any other town of equal distinction. It ought to be remarked that the survivor was intensely provoked, and had made numerous, unusual, and very patient exertions to prevent the unhappy catastrophe. During one hundred and forty years, Boston was probably more distinguished for religion than any city of the same size in the world. An important change has, however, within a period of no great length, taken place in the religious opinions 242 19 of the Bostonians. Before this period, moderate Calvinism very generally prevailed. At the present time, Unitarianism appears to be the predominating system. It is believed that neither ministers nor people have had any reason to congratu- late themselves on this change. Boston enjoys a superiority to all the other great towns on this continent in an agreeable neighborhood. A numerous col- lection of pleasant towns and villages almost surround it, the residence not only of flourishing farmers and mechanics, but also of men respectable for their polish, learning, and worth. The surface of the country is everywhere finely varied, the soil generally fertile, the agriculture neat and productive, the gar- dening superior to what is found in most other places, the orchards, groves, and forests numerous and thrifty. The roads running in every direction on the western side of the meridian are most of them good, and some of them excellent. Several of them are lined, throughout their whole extent, with almost a continued village, formed of houses, neat, well built, and strongly indicative of prosperity. Villas pleasantly situated, command- ing handsome views, exhibiting more lightness and elegance of architecture, and ornamented with more suitable appendages than I have elsewhere seen, adorn, at little distances, a consid- erable part of this region. A singular collection of pleasant rides is opened in this manner to the inhabitants, and of in- teresting objects, to which these rides conduct them. From the gratification furnished by this source a considerable abate- ment is made by several slaughter-houses standing on or near some of the roads, one of them near that which passes over the Neck. A traveller cannot easily conceive how a people within and without whose doors so much taste and elegance appear can be satisfied to pass daily by objects so deformed and offensive. Of the same nature is the ride from Boston to Portland. No part of the United States furnishes a tour equally pleasing. No- where is there, within the same compass, such a number of towns equally interesting, large, wealthy, and beautiful, or equally inhabited by intelligent, polished, and respectable people. To these advantages ought to be added another, of no small distinction ; namely, the neighborhood of the University in Cam- bridge. The importance of this advantage is too obvious to need illustration. 243 20 The prospect of this town and its environs is taken com- pletely from the lantern of the State House. Commencing your survey at Allerton Point in Nantasket, or Hull, nine miles eastward, and tracing onward to the south-east an irregular un- dulating country and a bewildered shore, you are presented with the peninsula called Dorchester Neck, rising with two beautiful heights. Continuing the progress further on, the towns of Dorchester, Milton, and Roxbury fill up the view to the south-western point. Thence the eye passes over Brookline, Brighton, Cambridge, and Menotomy to the west, Medford and Charlestown on the north, and thence over Maiden, Chel- sea, and Lynn on the north-east, to Nahant Point, the northern boundary of the harbor. Beyond the circuit which I have described, an extensive region is seen from this spot, gradually receding from the view, and blending by degrees into confusion. The land side of this prospect is ornamented with beauties numerous, rich, and diversified. The hills from Maiden through Charlestown to Dorchester Heights are formed by slopes and summits of the highest elegance. The towns are numerous and uncommonly cheerful. Villas in a multitude of fine situa- tions and churches with their white spires enliven the rich verdure universally spread, and awaken in the mind a lively sense of prosperity. The appearance of a large, populous, wealthy city is every- where much the same, — a scene of crowds and confusion, but a scene ever engaging and animating. No city was evei" seen from any point with more advantage than Boston from this. All its buildings, public and private, are in complete view, and are contrasted by the Common, a spacious field of the spright- liest verdure, pastured by a great multitude of cows, and lying directly beneath the eye. The waterside of the prospect is not inferior to that of the land. The three basins of Dorchester, Charles River, and Mystic are uncommonly beautiful, and are crossed by seven extensive bridges. The harbor is a magnificent piece of water, containing a number of fine islands, and ornamented by the numerous points successively stretching out from its. serpentine shores. On its surface a vast collection of shipping, and smaller vessels, is continually seen, either lying at anchor or moving through its waters in every direction. In a clear autumnal day a sense of sprightliness, activity, and gayety is ex- cited here in the highest degree, and is increased by the prospect 244 21 of ships advancing toward the town through the entrance of the harbor, where it opens interminably into the ocean. The commerce of Boston is principally supported by the State of Massachusetts. New York, Philadelphia, and Balti- more engross to a great extent the supplies of the American LInion. Even those of this State are shared by Salem, New- buryport, and Portland, and of the western parts by New York. Boston has always contained a large number of inhabitants distinguished by their respectability of character. It will not be expected that but very few should be particularly mentioned, unless in a biographical dictionary. Governor Winthrop may be justly considered as the father of this colony, and has merited the respectful and perpetual remembrance of its inhabitants. This gentleman devoted his property, his talents, and his life to its interests. He was able, upright, and pious. Too zealous at times against opinions which he thought erroneous and against practices of no great importance, he was, still, a man of superior worth, benevolence, and liberality. Governor Shirley came from England to Boston in 1733, where he practised law until 1741. From this time he con- tinued to hold the chief seat of magistracy until the year 1757. He was afterward governor of one of the Bahama Islands, whence he returned to Massachusetts, and died at Roxbury in 177 I. He was one of the best and ablest governors of the colony, and will be long remembered as the author of the ex- pedition to Cape Breton and the abolition of the paper currency in Massachusetts Bay. Governor Bowdoin was in early life distinguished for his talents and his virtues. He was a sound scholar at the Uni- versity, where he took his first degree in 1745. His attach- ment to learning and science continued through life, and he not only excelled in them himself, but was a generous bene- factor to others of the same character. The University of Edinburgh gave him the degree of Doctor of Laws, and the Royal Societies of London and Dublin elected him one of their members. When the American Academy of Arts and Sciences was, in a great measure by his influence, established at Boston in 1780, he was chosen its first president, and continued in the office until he died. In 1753, at the age of twenty -six, he was chosen one of the Representatives of Boston; and in 1756 he became a member of the legislative council. At this board, 245 22 either as a member or president, he continued twenty-three years. He was also president of the convention which formed the Constitution of Massachusetts, and contributed not a Uttle to the wisdom discernible in many of its provisions. In the year 1785 he was elected Governor of the State. In this office his wisdom, firmness, and moderation reflected the highest honor upon his character, and crushed in its infancy and without a single execution an insurrection against the gov- ernment, stimulated by an unwise taxation and secretly cher- ished by every discontented and mischievous citizen. This measure preserved the State, perhaps the Union, and merited for the author of it a statue. Still more honorable to this highly respectable man was his Christianity. More than thirty years of his life he was a pro- fessor of religion, and exemplarily adorned his profession. Bishop Butler's Analogy originally established in his mind the truth of divine revelation. On the foundation of the Prophets and Apos- tles he erected a fair edifice of personal religion, which he beau- tified to the end of his days. In all the duties enjoined by the gospel, both of piety and charity, he abounded throughout his life, and at his death left the world urging upon his family the religion which he had professed, and rejoicing in the hope of spending his future existence with them in a happier world. His name will descend to posterity as the odor of sweet incense. The Hon. John Lowell, late judge of the District Court for Massachusetts, deserves a distinguished place in the biography of this country for his learning, good sense, elegance of mind, and religious worth. The Hon. Thomas Russell, son of the gentleman whom I have mentioned in the account of Charlestown, was one of the most respectable and successful merchants whom America has produced, and for his private and domestic virtues and honor- able public life was held in high estimation, not only in this town, but throughout the country. A numerous train of eminent clergymen have been ministers of Boston, at the head of whom are the venerable names of Cotton and Wilson, the former distinguished for his learning, genius, and eloquence, the latter for his mildness, gentleness, benevo- lence and piety. Few men have been more respected on this side of the Atlantic than Mr. Cotton, none, perhaps, more be- loved than Mr. Wilson. To commence an account of the character of these respectable men would involve an obliga- tion to proceed, and to proceed would be to write a volume. 246 23 In the year 1790 Boston contained two thousand three hun- dred and seventy-six dwelHng-houses, and eighteen thousand and thirty-eight inhabitants ; in 1800, two thousand eight hun- dred and seventy houses and twenty-four thousand nine hun- dred and thirty-seven inhabitants; and, in 1810, thirty-three thousand two hundred and fifty.* In the year 1795 I was chosen President of Yale College. The business of this office is chiefly of a sedentary nature, and requires exertions of mind almost without interruption. In 1774, when a tutor in the same seminary, I was very near losing my life by inac- tion and too intense application to study. A long course of un- remitted exercise restored my health. These facts, together with subsequent experience, had taught me that it could not be preserved by any other means. I determined, therefore, to devote the vaca- tions, particularly that in the autumn, which includes six weeks, to a regular course of travelling. In .September, 1796, the execution of my design was commenced ; and the first journey mentioned in these letters was accomplished. Before its commencement it oc-. curred to me that a description of such interesting things as I might meet with in my excursions would probably furnish amusement to my family. I therefore put a note-book into my pocket, with an intention to set down in it whatever should suit my inclination. The following September, when my journey lay along the Connecticut River and thence through the Notch of the White Mountains to Portland, I enlarged my scheme, and determined to keep a regular journal. Some incidental circumstances at the same time excited in my mind a wish to know the manner in which New England ap- peared, or to my own eye would have appeared, eighty or a hundred years before. The wish was found to be fruitless ; and it was soon perceived that information concerning this subject was chiefly un- attainable. A country changing as rapidly as New England must, if truly exhibited, be described in a manner resembling that in which a painter would depict a cloud. The form and colors of the moment must be seized or the picture will be erroneous. As it was naturally presumed by me that some of those who will live eighty or a hun- dred years hence must have feelings similar to my own, I resolved to furnish, so far as should be in my power, means of enabling them to know what was the appearance of their country during tlie period occupied by my journeys. To the inducements presented by these considerations some ad- dition was made by the misrepresentations which foreigners, either through error or design, had published of my native country. As none of its inhabitants appeared to me inclined to do justice to its • By the Census of 1820, Boston contained forty-three thousand two hundred and ninety- eight inhabitants. — Pub. 247 24 character, I began to entertain loose and distant thoughts of at- tempting it myself; and, after the purpose was once formed, every new misrepresentation made me more solicitous to carry it into execution. Still there was no lixed intention formed of publishing, dnring my lifetime, the book which I projected. With these views and some others which it is unnecessary to mention, both my ex- cursions and my journals were continued. — From tJic Preface to President Divi^Jifs " Travels in New En Handy President Dwight's "Travels in New England and New York " is a unique and invalu- able picture of this portion of the country at tlie close of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth. The passage from the preface given above stales his motive in preparing it. " His plan," says Moses Coit Tyler, " broadened out into that of a systematic journal for the possible benefit of the whole family of man, and elastic enougli to admit into itself everything, directly or indirectly suggested by his journeys, which could give instruc- tion or diversion to any mind, — incidents of travel, natural scenery, statistics of population and of social progress, talks by the way, local histories, legends, superstitions, sketclies of towns, buildings, domestic life, notable persons, comments on the past, present, or future of our country, on forms of government, politics, religion, irreligion, climate, soil, trees, rocks, mountains, rivers, beasts, birds, storms, earthquakes, the public health, longevity, schools, colleges, ministers, lawyers, doctors, butchers, bakers, and candle-stick makers, together with lace-problems, the aboriginal savages and their descendants, ths inaccuracies and scur- rilities of foreign travellers in America, international discourtesy, and so forth, and so forth. Thus, under the frail disguise of a mere book of travels, the thing grew to be a vast literary miscellany; not a book, but a bibliotheca." The result of his labors fairly entitles him to the name of the New England Camden. The " Travels " is cast in the form of a series of letters to an imaginary Englishman. The work (in four volumes) was not published until 1S21, after Dwiglit's death ; and the publishers added notes indicating the changes since his own last revisions. Such notes are those, as in the pre-ent leaflet, signed Pub. The visit to Boston, which furnished the basis of the account here reprinted, was in 1796: "Tuesday, October 15th, we rode over to Boston, where we spent the day very pleasantly in visiting everything which interested our curiosity." But the notes made in 17c' were revised as late certainly as 1810 ; so that the picture given is the Boston of Emerson's lurth and boyhood. Timothy D wight was born in Northampton, Mass., in 1752, and died in New Haven, Conn., 1S17. Henry Adams, whose general survey of the life and conditions of the United .States, in the first volume of his History of the United States during the Administration of Jefferson, is the best which has ever been written, says of Dwight, upon whose "Travels" he draws largely : " One quality gave respectability to his writing apart from genius. He loved and believed in his country. Perhaps the uttermost depths of his nature were stirred only by affection for the Connecticut Valley ; but after all where was human nature tnore respectable than in that peaceful region ? What had the United States then to show in scenery and landscape more beautiful or more winning than that country of meadow and mountain?" Dwight's father, Major Timothy Dwight, was a lawyer by education, and became a pros- perous merchant of Northampton: his mother was a daughter of Jonathan Edwards. He studied at Yale, like his fatlier, and became a tutor therein 1771, beginning there his ambitious epic, "The Conquest of Canaan." He became a chaplain in the Continental army, after- wards taught school, was a member of the Massachusetts legislature, and refused a nomina- tion for Congress. In 1783 he took a parish at Greenfield Hill, Conn., and established an academy there which achieved national fame. He became the pioneer of higher education for women. In 1795 he succeeded Dr. Stiles as president of Yale College, in which office his influence until his death was very great. His published works fill thirteen large volumes, and his unpublished manuscripts would fill almost as many more. .See memoir by his son, and the life by .Sprague in .Sparks's " American Biography," also the chapter by Rev. D. D. Addison in his " Clergy in American Life," and that entitled " A Great College President and What He Wrote," by Moses Coit Tyler, in his " Three Men of Letter^*.' PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 248 ODID J)outl) IHeaflet^ No. 137. The First Number of The Dial. The Opening Pages. THE DIAL. Vol. I. JULY, 1840. No. I. THE EDITORS TO THE READER. We invite the attention of our countrymen to a new design. Probably not quite unexpected or unannounced will our Journal appear, though small pains have been taken to secure its welcome. Those, who have immediately acted in editing the present Number, cannot accuse themselves of any unbecom- ing forwardness in their undertaking, but rather of a back- wardness, when they remember how often in many private circles the work was projected, how eagerly desired, and only postponed because no individual volunteered to combine and concentrate the free-will offerings of many co-operators. With some reluctance the present conductors of this work have yielded themselves to the wishes of their friends, finding some- thing sacred and not to be withstood in the importunity which urged the production of a Journal in a new spirit. As they have not proposed themselves to the work, neither can they lay any the least claim to an option or determination of the spirit in which it is conceived, or to what is peculiar in the design. In that respect, they have obeyed, though with great joy, the strong current of thought and feeling, which, for 249 a few years past, has led many sincere persons in New Eng- land to make new demands on literature, and to reprobate that rigor of our conventions of religion and education which is turning us to stone, which renounces hope, which looks only backward, which asks only such a future as the past, which suspects improvement, and holds nothing so much in horror as new views and the dreams of youth. With these terrors the conductors of the present Journal have nothing to do, — not even so much as a word of reproach to waste. They know that there is a portion of the youth and of the adult population of this country, who have not shared them ; who have in secret or in public paid their vows to truth and freedom ; who love reality too well to care for names, and who live by a Faith too earnest and profound to suffer them to doubt the eternity of its object, or to shake themselves free from its authority. Under the fictions and customs which oc- cupied others, these have explored the Necessary, the Plain, the True, the Human, — and so gained a vantage ground, which commands the history of the past and the present. No one can converse much with different classes of society in New England, without remarking the progress of a revolu- tion. Those who share in it have no external organization, no badge, no creed, no name. They do not vote, or print, or even meet together. They do not know each other's faces or names. They are united only in a common love of truth, and love of its work. They are of all conditions and constitutions. Of these acolytes, if some are happily born and well bred, many are no doubt ill dressed, ill placed, ill made, — with as many scars of hereditary vice as other men. Without pomp, without trumpet, in lonely and obscure places, in solitude, in servitude, in compunctions and privations, trudging beside the team in the dusty road, or drudging a hireling in other men's cornfields, schoolmasters, who teach a few children rudiments for a pittance, ministers of small parishes of the obscurer sects, lone women in dependent condition, matrons and young maidens, rich and poor, beautiful and hard-favored, without concert or proclamation of any kind, they have silently given in their several adherence to a new hope, and in all companies do signify a greater trust in the nature and resources of man, than the laws or the popular opinions will well allow. This spirit of the time is felt by every individual with some difference, — to each one casting its light upon the objects near- 250 est to his temper and habits of thought ; — to one, coming in the shape of special reforms in the state ; to another, in modi- fications of the various callings of men, and the customs of business ; to a third, opening a new scope for literature and art ; to a fourth, in philosophical insight ; to a fifth, in the vast solitudes of prayer. It is in every form a protest against usage, and a search for principles. In all its movements it is peace- able, and in the very lowest marked with a triumphant success. Of course, it rouses the opposition of all which it judges and condemns, but it is too confident in its tone to comprehend an objection, and so builds no outworks for possible defence against contingent enemies. It has the step of Fate, and goes on existing like an oak or a river, because it must. In literature, this influence appears not yet in new book so much as in the higher tone of criticism. The antidote to all narrowness is the comparison of the record with nature, which at once shames the record and stimulates to new attempts. Whilst we look at this, we wonder how any book has been thought worthy to be preserved. There is somewhat in all life untranslatable into language. He who keeps his eye on that will write better than others, and think less of his writing, and of all writing. Every thought has a certain imprisoning as well as uplifting quality, and, in proportion to its energy on the will, refuses to become an object of intellectual contemplation. Thus what is great usually slips through our fingers, and it seems wonderful how a lifelike word ever comes to be written. If our Journal share the impulses of the time, it cannot now prescribe its own course. It cannot foretell in orderly proposi- tions what it shall attempt. All criticism should be poetic ; unpredictable ; superseding, as every new thought does, all foregone thoughts, and making a new light on the whole world. Its brow is not wrinkled with circumspection, but serene, cheer- ful, adoring. It has all things to say, and no less than all the world for its final audience. Our plan embraces much more than criticism ; were it not so, our criticism would be naught. Everything noble is directed on life, and this is. We do not wish to say pretty or curious things, or to reiterate a few propositions in varied forms, but, if we can, to give expression to that spirit which lifts men to a higher platform, restores to them the religious sentiment, brings them worthy aims and pure pleasures, purges the inward eye, makes life less desultory, and, through raising 251 man to the level of nature, takes away its melancholy from the landscape, and reconciles the practical with the speculative powers. But perhaps we are telling our little story too gravely. There are always great arguments at hand for a true action, even for the writing of a few pages. There is nothing but seems near it and prompts it, — the sphere in the ecliptic, the sap in the apple-tree, — every fact, every appearance seems to persuade to it. Our means correspond with the ends we have indicated. As we wish not to multiply books, but to report life, our resources are therefore not so much the pens of practised writers, as the discourse of the living, and the portfolios which friendship has opened to us. From the beautiful recesses of private thought ; from the experience and hope of spirits which are withdrawing from all old forms, and seeking in all that is new somewhat to meet their inappeasable longings ; from the secret confession of genius afraid to trust itself to aught but sympathy ; from the conversation of fervid and mystical pietists ; from tear-stained diaries of sorrow and passion ; from the manuscripts of young poets ; and from the records of youthful taste commenting on old works of art ; we hope to draw thoughts and feelings, which being alive can impart life. And so with diligent hands and good intent we set down our Dial on the earth. We wish it may resemble that instrument in its celebrated happiness, that of measuring no hours but those of sunshine. Let it be one cheerful rational voice amidst the din of mourners and polemics. Or to abide by our chosen image, let it be such a Dial, not as the dead face of a clock, hardly even such as the Gnomon in a garden, but rather such a Dial as is the Garden itself, in whose leaves and flowers and fruits the suddenly awakened sleeper is instantly apprised not what part of dead time, but what state of life and growth is now arrived and arriving. A SHORT ESSAY ON CRITICS. An essay on Criticism were a serious matter ; for, though this age be emphatically critical, the writer would still find it necessary to investigate the laws of criticism as a science, to settle its conditions as an art. Essays entitled critical are 252 5 epistles addressed to the public through which the mind of the recluse relieves itself of its impressions. Of these the only law is, " Speak the best word that is in thee." Or they are regular articles, got up to order by the literary hack writer, for the literary mart, and the only law is to make them plausible. There is not yet deliberate recognition of a standard of criti- cism, though we hope the always strengthening league of the republic of letters must ere long settle laws on which its Amphictyonic council may act. Meanwhile, let us not venture to write on criticism, but by classifying the critics imply our hopes, and thereby our thoughts. First,' there are the subjective class (to make use of a con- venient term, introduced by our German benefactors). These are persons to whom writing is no sacred, no reverend employ- ment. They are not driven to consider, not forced upon in- vestigation by the fact, that they are deliberately giving their thoughts an independent existence, and that it may live to others when dead to them. They know no agonies of con- scientious research, no timidities of self-respect. They see no Ideal beyond the present hour, which makes its mood an un- certain tenure. How things affect them now they know ; let the future, let the whole take care of itself. They state their impressions as they rise, of other men's spoken, written, or acted thoughts. They never dream of going out of themselves to seek the motive, to trace the law of another nature. They never dream that there are statures which cannot be measured from their point of view. They love, they like, or they hate ; the book is detestable, immoral, absurd, or admirable, noble, of a most approved scope ; — these statements they make with authority, as those who bear the evangel of pure taste and accurate judgment, and need be tried before no human synod. To them it seems that their present position commands the universe. Thus the essays on the works of others, which are called criticisms, are often, in fact, mere records of impressions. To judge of their value you must know where the man was brought up, under what influences,— his nation, his church, his family even. He himself has never attempted to estimate the value of these circumstances, and find a law or raise a standard above all circumstances, permanent against all influence. He is content to be the creature of his place, and to represent it by his spoken and written word. He takes the same ground 253 with the savage, who does not hesitate to say of the product of a civilization on which he could not stand, "It is bad," or " It is good." The value of such comments is merely retiex. They charac- terize the critic. They give an idea of certain influences on a certain act of men in a certain time or place. Their absolute, essential value is nothing. The long review, the eloquent article by the man of the nineteenth century are of no value by themselves considered, but only as samples of their kind. The writers were content to tell what they felt, to praise or to denounce without needing to convince us or themselves. They sought not the divine truths of philosophy, and she proffers them not if unsought Then there are the apprehensive. These can go out of themselves and enter fully into a foreign existence. They breathe its life ; they live in its law ; they tell what it meant, and why it so expressed its meaning. They reproduce the work of which they speak, and make it better known to us in so far as two statements are better than one. There are beautiful specimens in this kind. They are pleasing to us as bearing witness of the genial sympathies of nature. They have the ready grace of love with somewhat of the dignity of dis- interested friendship. They sometimes give more pleasure than the original production of which they treat, as melodies will sometimes ring sweetlier in the echo. Besides there is a peculiar pleasure in a true response ; it is the assurance of equipoise in the universe. These, if not true critics, come nearer the standard than the subjective class, and the value of their work is ideal as well as historical. Then there are the comprehensive, who must also be appre- hensive. They enter into the nature of another being and judge his work by its own law. But having done so, having ascertained his design and the degree of his success in fulfilling it, thus measuring his judgment, his energy, and skill, they do also know how to put that aim in its place, and how to estimate its relations. And this the critic can only do who perceives the analogies of the universe, and how they are regulated by an * absolute, invariable principle. He can see how far that work expresses this principle as well as how far it is excellent in its details. Sustained by a principle, such as can be girt within no rule, no formula, he can walk around the work, he can stand above it, he can uplift it, and try its weight. Finally, he is worthy to judge it. 254 Critics are poets cut down, says some one by way of jeer; but, in truth, they are men with the poetical temperament to apprehend, with the philosophical tendency to investigate. The maker is divine ; the critic sees this divine, but brings it down to humanity by the analytic process. The critic is the historian who records the order of creation. In vain for the maker, who knows without learning it, but not in vain for the mind of his race. The critic is beneath the maker, but is his needed friend. What tongue could speak but to an intelligent ear, and every noble work demands its critic. The richer the work, the more severe would be its critic ; the larger its scope, the more com- prehensive must be his power of scrutiny. The critic is not a base caviller, but the younger brother of genius. Next to in- vention is the power ot interpreting invention ; next to beauty the power of appreciating beauty. And of making others appreciate it ; for the universe is a scale of infinite gradation, and below the very highest, every step is explanation down to the lowest. Religion, in the two modulations of poetry and music, descends through an infinity of waves to the lowest abysses of human nature. Nature is the literature and art of the divine mind ; human literature and art the criticism on that ; and they, too, find their criticism within their own sphere. The critic, then, should be not merely a poet, not merely a philosopher, not merely an observer, but tempered of all three. If he criticize the poem, he must want nothing of what consti- tutes the poet, except the power of creating forms and speaking of music. He must have as good an eye and as fine a sense ; but if he had as fine an organ for expression also, he would make the poem instead of judging it. He must be inspired by the philosopher's spirit of inquiry and need of generalization, but he must not be constrained by the hard cemented masonry of method to which philosophers are prone. And he must have the organic acuteness of the observer, with a love of ideal per- fection, which forbids him to be content with mere beauty of details in the work or the comment upon the work. There are persons who maintain that there is no legitimate criticism, except the reproductive; that we have only to say what the work is or is to us, never what it is not. But the moment we look for a principle, we feel the need of a criterion, of a standard ; and then we say what the work is not, as well 255 as what it is; and this is as healtliy though not as grateful and gracious an operation of the mind as the other. We do not seek to degrade but to classify an object by stating wliat it is not. We detach tlie part from the whole, lest it stand between us and the whole. When we have ascertained in what degree it manifests the whole, we may safely restore it to its place, and love or admire it there ever after. The use of criticism in periodical writing is to sift, not to stamp a work. Yet should they not be " sieves and drainers for the use of luxurious readers," but for the use of earnest inquirers, giving voice and being to their objections, as well as stimulus to their sympathies. But the critic must not be an infallible adviser to his reader. He must not tell him what books are not worth reading, or what must be thought of them when read, but what he read in them. Wo to that coterie where some critic sits despotic, intrenched behind the infallible "We." Wo to that oracle who has infused such soft sleepi- ness, such a gentle dulness into his atmosphere, that when he opes his lips no dog will bark. It is this attempt at dictator- ship in the reviewers, and the indolent acquiescence of their readers, that has brought them into disrepute. With such fair- ness did they make out their statements, with such dignity did they utter their verdicts, that the poor reader grew all too submis- sive. He learned his lesson with such docility, that the greater part of what will be said at any public or private meeting can be foretold by any one who has read the leading periodical works for twenty years back. Scholars sneer at and would fain dispense with them altogether ; and the public, grown lazy and helpless by this constant use of props and stays, can now scarce brace itself even to get through a magazine article, but reads in the daily paper laid beside the breakfast plate a short notice of the last number of the long established and popular review, and thereupon passes its judgment, and is content. Then the partisan spirit of many of these journals has made it unsafe to rely upon them as guide-books and expurgatory indexes. They could not be content merely to stimulate and suggest thought ; they have at last become powerless to super- sede it. From these causes and causes like these, the journals have lost much of their influence. There is a languid feeling about them, an inclination to suspect the justice of their verdicts, the value of their criticisms. But their golden age cannot be quite 256 past. They afford too convenient a vehicle for the transmission of knowledge ; they are too natural a feature of our time to have done all their work yet. Surely they may be redeemed from their abuses, they may be turned to their true uses. But how ? It were easy to say what they should not do. They should not have an object to carry or a cause to advocate, which obliges them either to reject all writings which wear the dis- tinctive traits of individual life, or to file away what does not suit them, till the essay, made true to their design, is made false to the mind of the writer. An external consistency is thus pro- duced, at the expense of all salient thought, all genuine emo- tion of life, in short, and living influences. Their purpose may be of value, but by such means was no valuable purpose ever furthered long. There are those, who have with the best inten- tion pursued this system of trimming and adaptation, and thought it well and best to " Deceive their country for their country's good." But their country cannot long be so governed. It misses the pure, the full tone of truth ; it perceives that the voice is modu- lated to coax, to persuade, and it turns from the judicious man of the world, calculating the effect to be produced by each of his smooth sentences to some earnest voice which is uttering thoughts, crude, rash, ill-arranged it may be, but true to one human breast, and uttered in full faith, that the God of Truth will guide them aright. And here, it seems to me, has been the greatest mistake in the conduct of these journals. A smooth monotony has been at- tained, an uniformity of tone, so that from the title of a journal you can infer the tenor of all its chapters. But nature is ever various, ever new, and so should be her daughters, art and literature. We do not want merely a polite response to what we thought before, but by the freshness of thought in other minds to have new thought awakened in our own. We do not want stores of information only, but to be roused to digest these into knowledge. Able and experienced men write for us, and we would know what they think, as they think it not for us but for themselves. We would live with them, rather than be taught by them how to live ; we would catch the contagion of their mental activity, rather than have them direct us how to regulate our own. In books, in reviews, in the senate, in 257 lO the pulpit, we wish to meet thinking men, not schoohiiasters or pleaders. We wish that they should do full justice to their own view, but also that they should be frank with us, and, if now our superiors, treat us as if we might some time rise to be their equals. It is this true manliness, this iirmness in his own posi- tion, and this power of appreciating the position of others, that alone can make the critic our companion and friend. We would converse with him, secure that he will tell us all his thought, and speak as man to man. But if he adapts his work to us, if he stifles what is distinctively his, if he shows himself either arrogant or mean, or, above all, if he wants faith in the healthy action of free thought, and the safety of pure motive, we will not talk with him, for we cannot confide in him. We will go to the critic who trusts Genius and trusts us, who knows that all good writing must be spontaneous, and who will write out the bill of fare for the public as he read it for himself, — " Forgetting vulgar rules, with spirit free To judge each author by his own intent, Nor think one standard for all minds is meant." Such an one will not disturb us with personalities, with sec- tarian prejudices, or an undue vehemence in favor of petty plans or temporary objects. Neither will he disgust us by smooth obsequious flatteries and an inexpressive, lifeless gentle- ness. He will be free and make free from the mechanical and distorting influences we hear complained of on every side. He will teach us to love wisely what we before loved well, for he knows the difference between censoriousness and discernment, infatuation and reverence ; and, while delighting in the genial melodies of Pan, can perceive, should Apollo bring his lyre into audience, that there may be strains more divine than those of his native groves. F. TO THE AURORA BOREALIS. Arctic fount of holiest light Springing through the winter night, Spreading far beyond yon hill When the earth is dark and still. Rippling o'er the stars, as streams Ripple o'er their pebble-gleams — Oh, for names, thou vision fair, To express thy splendors rare ! 258 1 1 Blush upon the cheek of night, Posthumous, unearthly light. Dream of the deep-sunken sun. Beautiful, sleep-walking one. Sister of the moonlight pale, Star-obscuring, meteor veil, Spread by heaven's watching vestals, Sender of the gleamy crystals. Darting on their arrowy course From their glittering, polar source, Upward where the air doth freeze, Round the sister Pleiades — Beautiful and rare Aurora, In the heavens thou art their Flora, Night-blowing Cereus of the sky, Rose of amaranthine dye, Hyacinth of purple light. Or their Lily clad in white ! Who can name thy wondrous e-sence, Thou electric Phosphorescence ? Lonely apparition tire ! Seeker of the starry quire! Restless roamer of the sky. Who hath won thy mystery? Mortal science hath not ran With thee through the Empyrean, Where the constellations cluster Flower like on thy branchy lustre ! After all the glare and toil. And the daylight's fretful coil, Thou dost come so mild and still. Hearts with love and peace to fill ; As w^hen after revelry With a talking company. Where the blaze of many lights Fell on fools and parasites, One by one the guests have gone. And we find ourselves alone, Only one sweet maiden near. With a sweet voice low and clear Murmuring music in our ear — . So thou talkest to the earth. After daylight's weary mirth. Is not human fantasy. Wild Aurora, likest thee, Blossoming in nightly dreams Like thy shifting meteor-gleams ? But a better type thou art Of the strivings of the heart. 259 12 Reaching upwards from the earth To the Soul that gave it birth. When the noiseless beck of night Summons out the inner light. That hath hid its purer ray Through the lapses of the day — Then like thee, thou northern Morn, Instincts which we deemed unborn. Gushing from their hidden source, Mount upon their heavenward course, And the spirit seeks to be Filled with God's Eternity. C. NOTES FROM THE JOURNAL OF A SCHOLAR. Nunc non e manibus illis, Nunc non e tumulo, fortunataque favilla . Nascuntur violae ? Persius. HOMER. Homer I read with continually new pleasure. Criticism of Homer is like criticism upon natural scenery. You may say what is, and what is wanting, but you do not pretend to find fault. The Iliad is before us as a pile of mountains, — so blue and distant, so simple and real, — even so much an image of majesty and power. He is as proUfic as the earth, and produces his changing scenery with the ease and the finish and the inexhaustible variety of nature. Homer never mistakes. You might as well say, there was untruth in the song of the wind. I notice Homer's mention of an interview with a great' man. It is with him always among the memorabilia to have seen a great man. An embassy of Ulysses, a breakfast with Tydeus, any meeting with any heroic person, which barely gave time to note him, is text for memory and comparison. Homer is pious. Homer, says Goethe, describes that which exists, not its effect on the beholder. He paints agreeable things, not their agreeableness. Homer writes from no theory as a point of vision. He tells us what he sees, not what he thinks. Homer is an achromatic glass. He is even less humorsome than Shakspeare. Two or three disinterested witnesses have been in the world, 260 13 who have stated the facts as they are, and whose testimony- stands unimpeached from age to age. Such was Homer, Socrates, Chaucer, Shakspeare ; perhaps Goethe. A larger class state things as they believe them to be ; Plato, Epicurus, Cicero, Luther, Montaigne, George Fox. A still larger class take a side, and defend it the best they can ; Aristotle, Lucretius, Milton, Burke. SHAKSPEARE. O my friend ! shall thou and I always be two persons ? Any strong emotion makes the surrounding parts of life fall away as if struck with death. One sometimes questions his own reality, — it so blenches and shrivels in the flame of a thought, a relation, that swallows him up. If that lives, he lives, " There either he must live or have no life." This afternoon we read Shakspeare. The verse so sunk into me, that as I toiled my way home under the cloud of night, with the gusty music of the storm around and overhead, I doubted that it was all a remembered scene ; that Humanity was indeed one, a spirit continually reproduced, accomplishing a vast orbit, whilst individual men are but the points through which it passes. We each of us furnish to the angel who stands in the sun a single observation. The reason why Homer is to me like dewy morning, is because I too lived while Troy was, and sailed in the hollow^ ships of the Grecians to sack the devoted town. The rosy-fingered dawn as it crimsoned the top of Ida, the broad sea shore dotted with tents, the Trojan hosts in their painted armor, and the rushing chariots of Diomed and Idome- neus, — • all these I too saw ; my ghost animated the frame of some nameless Argive. And Shakspeare in King John does but recall to me myself in the dress of another age, the sport of new accidents. I, who am Charles, was sometime Romeo. In Hamlet, I pondered and doubted. We forget what we have been, drugged with the sleepy bowl of the Present. But when a lively chord in the soul is struck, when the windows for a moment are unbarred, the long and varied past is recovered. We recognize it all. We are no more brief, ignoble creatures ; we seize our immortality, and bind together the related parts of our secular being. Shakspeare was a proper Pagan. He understood the height 261 14 and depth of humanity in all its tossings on the sea of circum- stance, — now breasting the waves, mounting even to heaven on their steep sides, and now drifting before the wrath of the tempest. In himself he embraced this whole sphere, the whole of man struggling with the whole of fortune. But of religion, as it appears in the new dispensation of Christianity, as an ele- ment in the soul controlling all the rest, and exhibiting new phenomena of action and passion, he had no experience ; almost I had said, he had no conception. The beauty of holiness, the magnanimity of faith, he never saw. Probably he was an un- believer in the creed of his time, and looked on the New Testa- ment as a code that hampered the freedom of the mind which was a law unto itself, and as intruding on the sublime mystery of our fate. Hence, he delighted to get out of the way of Christianity, and not to need to calculate any of its influences. " What's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion." This was as he felt, and in Cleopatra it is just sentiment ; but his men and women in the English plays often talk in the same ante-Christian style as Cssar or Coriolanus. Now, our sign boards tell of Titian ; and society everywhere attests in one mode or other the effects of Christianity. Certain funda- mental truths sink and sow themselves in every soil, and the most irreligious man unconsciously supposes them in all his life and conversation. Shakspeare had in its perfection the poetic inspiration ; applied himself without effort to the whole world, — the sen- sible, the intelligent. Into all beauty, into all suffering, into all action, into all affection, he threw himself, — and yet not himself, for he seems never committed in his plays ; — but his genius. His genius was thus omnific and all-sympathizing. He seems to have sat above this hundred-handed play of his imagination, pensive and conscious. He read the world off into sweetest verse as one reads a book. He in no way mixed himself the individual with the scenes he drew, and so his poetry was the very coinage of nature and life. The pregnant cloud disburdened itself and meaning became expression. In proportion as the prophet sees things from a personal point of view, and speaks under the influence of any temperament, interest, or prepossession, his eye is not clear, his voice is husky, — the oracle philippizes. The perfect inspiration is that 262 15 which utters the beauty and truth, seen pure and unconfused as they he in the lap of the Divine Order. Shakspeare was the inspired tongue of humanity. He was priest at the aUar not of the Celestials, but of Mortals. His kingdom was of this world, and the message he was sent to do he delivered unem- barrassed, unimplicated. He gave voice to the finest, curious- est, boldest philosophical speculations ; he chanted the eternal laws of morals ; but it -was as they were facts in the conscious- ness, and so a part of humanity. He gives no pledge, breathes no prayer, — and religion is mirrored no otherwise than de- bauchery. In his sonnets we behold him appropriating his gifts to his own use, but never in the plays. Hamlet and Othello, — as he counted them not his creatures, but selfsub- sistent, too highborn to be propertied, — so he tampers not with their individuality, nor obtrudes himself on us as their prompter. If they lived, he lived. BURKE. It is not true what Goldsmith says of Burke ; he did not give up to party any more than Shakspeare gave up to con- spiracy, madness, or lust. His was not the nature of the par- tisan, but of the poet, who is quite other than the partisan. With the faculty proper to genius, he threw himself into the cause he espoused ; and the Reflections on the French Revo- lution and the Impeachment of Warren Hastings were his Othello and JuUus Caesar, wherein himself was lost and the truth of things only observed. The poet, it is said, has in him all the arts and letters of his time. The Iliad is a panorama of Greek civilization in the Homeric age. So Burke in his speeches comprises his era. Hence he could no more be a Radical than a Courtier. The spirit by which he was wedded to what was venerable was one with the spirit in which he welcomed the new births of reforma- tion and liberty. He was consistent with himself. He had no sympathy with those who, like George Fox, would clothe them- selves in a suit of leather, and nakedly renounce the riches together with the restraints of social life. He did not chafe under the splendid harness of old institutions. Herein ap- peared not the servility but the greatness of the man ; and his homage to the English Constitution was like the chivalrous courtesy which man pays to woman, as beautiful in him to yield, as in her to accept. 263 i6 THE RELIGION OF BEAUTY. The devout mind is a lover of nature. Where there is beauty- it feels at home. It has not then to shut the windows of the senses, and take refuge from the world within its own thoughts, to find eternal life. Beauty never limits us, never degrades us. We are free spirits when with nature. The outward scenery of our life, when we feel it to be beautiful, is always commensurate with the grandeur of our inward ideal aspiration ; it reflects encouragingly the heart's highest, brightest dreams ; it does not contradict the soul's convictions of a higher life ; it tells us that we are safe in believing the thought, which to us seems noblest. If we have no sense of beauty, the world is nothing more than a place to keep us in. But when the skies and woods reveal their loveliness, then nature seems a glorious pict- ure, of which our own inmost soul is the painter, and our own loves and longings the subject. It is the apt accompaniment to the silent song of the beholder's heart. The greatest blessing, which could be bestowed on the weary multitude, would be to give them the sense of beauty ; to open their eyes for them, and let them see how richly we are here surrounded, what a glorious temple we inhabit, how every part of it is eloquent of God. The love of nature grows with the growth of the soul. Religion makes man sensible to beauty ; and beauty in its turn disposes to religion. Beauty is the reve- lation of the soul to the senses. In all this outward beauty, — these soft swells and curves of the landscape, which seem ta be the earth's smile ; — this inexhaustible variety of form and colors and motion, not promiscuous, but woven together in as natural a harmony as the thoughts in a poem ; this mysterious hieroglyphic of the flowers ; this running alphabet of tangled vine and bending grass studded with golden paints ; this all- embracing perspective of distance rounding altogether into one rainbow-colored sphere, so perfect that the senses and the soul roam abroad over it unsated, feeling the presence and perfec- tion of the whole in each part ; this perfect accord of sights, sounds, motions, and fragrance, all tuned to one harmony, out of which run melodies inexhaustible of every mood and meas- ure, — in all this, man first feels that God is without him, as well as within him, that nature too is holy ; and can he bear to find himself the sole exception ? Does not the season, then, does not nature, does not the 264 17 spontaneous impulse of an open heart, which has held such sublime worship through its senses, more than justify an at- tempt to show how the religious sentiments may be nourished by a cultivation of the sense of duty ? This should be a part of our religious education. The heart pines and sickens, or grows hard and contracted and unbeliev'- ing, when it cannot have beauty. The love of nature ends in the love of God. It is impossible to feel beauty, and not feel that there is a spirit there. The sensualist, the materialist, the worshipper of chance, is cheated of his doubts, the moment this mystery overtakes him in his walks. This surrounding presence of beautiful nature keeps the soul buoyed up forever into its element of freedom, where its action is cheerful, health- ful, and unwearied ; where duty becomes lovely, and the call to worship, either by prayer or by self-sacrifice, is music to it. He, in whom this sense is open, is put, as it were, in a magnetic communication with a life like his own, which flows in around him, go where he may. In nature we forget our loneliness. In nature we feel the same Spirit, who made it and pervades it, holding les up also. Through the open sense of beauty, all we see preaches and prophesies to us. Without it, when no such sensibility exists, how hard a task is faith ! How hard to feel that God is here ! How unlovely looks re- ligion ! As without the air, the body could not breathe ; so without beauty, the heart and religious nature seem to want an element to live in. Beauty is the moral atmosphere. The close, unseemly school-house, in which our infancy was cramped, — of how much natural faith did it not rob us ! In how un- lovely a garb did we first see Knowledge and Virtue ! How uninteresting seemed Truth, how unfriendly looked Instruc- tion ; with what mean associations were the names of God and Wisdom connected in our memory ! What a violation of nature's peace seemed Duty ! what an intrusion upon the mind's rights ! What rebellion has been nurtured within us by the ugly confinements to which artificial life and educa- tion have accustomed us ! How insensible and cold it has made us to the expressive features of God's works, always around us, always inviting us to high refreshing converse ! I hold, then, that without a cultivation of the sense of beauty, chiefly to be drunken from the open fountains of nature, there can be no healthy and sound moral development. The man so educated lacks something most essential. He is one-sided, not of 265 i8 a piece with nature ; and however correct, however much master of himself, he will be uninteresting, unencouraging, and unin- viting. To the student of ancient history, the warm-hearted, graceful Greek, all alive to nature, who made beauty almost his religion, is a more refreshing object, than the cold, formal Jew. And here around us, resist it as we may, our hearts are always drawn towards the open, graceful children of impulse, in prefer- ence to the stiff, insensible patterns of virtue. The latter may be very unexceptionable, but at the same time very unreal. The former, though purposeless and careless they play through life, yet have trusted themselves to nature, and been ravished by her beauty, and nature will not let them become very bad. Consider a few of the practical effects upon the whole character of a growing love of beauty in the young mind. It disposes to order. It gives birth in the mind to an instinct of propriety. It suggests imperceptibly, it inclines gently, but irresistibly, to the fit action, to the word in season. The beauty which we see and feel plants its seeds in us. Gazing with de- light on nature, our will imperceptibly becomes attuned to the same harmony. The sense of beauty is attended with a certain reverence ; we dare not mar what looks so perfect. This sense, too, has a something like conscience contained in it ; we feel bound to do and be ourselves something worthy of the beauty we are permitted to admire. This feeling, while it makes alive and quickens, yet is eminently conservative, in the best sense. He, who has it, is always interested on the side of order, and of all dear and hallowed associations. He, who wants it, is as destructive as a Goth. The presence of beauty, like that of nature, as soon as we feel it at all, overcomes us with respect, and a certain sensitive dread of all violence, mis- chief, or discord. The beautiful ideal piece of architecture bears no mark of wanton pen-knife. The handsome school- room makes the children neat. - The instinct of obedience, of conciliation, of decorum, reverence, and harmony, flows into the soul with beauty. The calm spirit of the landscape takes possession of the humble, yet soul-exalted admirer. Its har- mony compels the jangling chords within himself into smoother, undulations. Therefore "walk out," like Isaac, "at even-tide to meditate," and let nature, with her divine stillness, take pos- session of thee. She shall give thee back to thyself better, more spiritual, more sensible of thy relationship with all things, and that in wronging any, thou but woundest thyself. 266 19 Another grace of character, which the sense of brauty gives the mind, is freedom — the freedom of fond obedience, not of loose desire. The man, whose eyes and soul are open to the beauty there is around him, sees everywhere encouragement. To him the touch of nature's hand is warm and genial. The air does not seem to pinch him, as it does most narrow-minded ones, who can see no good in anything but gain ; to whose utilitarian vision most that is natural looks hostile. He is not contracted into himself by cautious fear and suspicion, afraid to let his words flow freely, or his face relax in confidence, or his limbs move gracefully, or his actions come out whole and hearty. He trusts nature ; for he has kissed her loveliness ; he knows that she smiles encouragement to him. Now think what it is that makes virtue so much shunned. Partly, our de- pravity, if you please. But partly, also, her numerous ungrace- ful specimens. For it is the instinctive expectation of all minds, that what is excellent shall also be beautiful, lovely, nat- ural, and free. Most of the piety, we see about us, is more or less the product of restraint and fear. It stands there in spectral contrast with nature. Approve it we may ; but we can- not love it. It does not bear the divine stamp ; it chills, not converts. The lov-e of nature makes in us an ideal of moral beauty, of an elevation in character which shall look free and lovely, something that shall take its place naturally and as matter of course in the centre of nature, as the life of Jesus did. Again, the love of beauty awakens higher aspirations in us. He, who has felt the beauty of a summer like this, has drunk in an infinite restlessness, a yearning to be perfect, and by obedience free. He can never more rest contented with what he is. And here is the place, to attempt some account of the true significance of beauty, and of what is its office to the soul. Beauty always suggests the thought of the perfect. The smallest beautiful object is as infinite as the whole world of stars above us. So we feel it. Everything beautiful is emble- matic of something spiritual. Itself limited, its meanings and suggestions are infinite. In it we seem to see all in one. Each beautiful thing, each dew-drop, each leaf, each true work of painters, poet's, or musician's art. seems an epitome of the creation. Is it not God revealed through the senses ? Is not every beautiful thing a divine hint thrown out to us ? Does not 267 20 the soul begin to dream of its own boundless capacities, when it has felt beauty ? Does not immortality then, for the first time, cease to be a name, a doctrine, and become a present experi- ence ? When the leaves fall in autumn, they turn golden as they drop. The cold winds tell us of coming winter and death ; but they tell it in music. All is significant of decay ; but the deep, still, harmonious beauty surpasses all felt in summer or spring before. We look on it, and feel that it cannot die. The Eternal speaks to us from the midst of decay. We feel a melancholy ; but it is a sweet, religious melancholy, lifting us in imagination above death — since above the grave of the summer so much real beauty lingers. The beautiful, then, is the spiritual aspect of nature. By cherishing a delicate sensibility to it, we make nature preach us a constant lesson of faith ; we find all around an illustration of the life of the spirit. We surround ourselves with a constant cheerful exhortation to duty. We render duty lovely and in- viting. We find the soul's deep inexpressible thoughts written around us in the skies, the far blue hills, and swelling waters. But then to this desirable result one stern condition must be observed. If the sense of beauty disposes to purity of heart ; so equally purity of heart is all that can keep the sense of beauty open. All influences work mutually. " One hand must wash the other," said the poet. The world is loveliest to him, who looks out on it through pure eyes. Sweet is the pleasure, Itself cannot spoil ! Is not true leisure One with true toil ? Thou that wouldst taste it, Still do thy best ; Use it, not waste it, Else 'tis no rest. Wouldst behold beauty Near thee ? all round ? Only hath duty Such a sight found. Rest is not quitting The busy career; Rest is the fitting Of self to its sphere. 'Tis the brook's motion, Clear without strife, 268 21 Fleeing to ocean After its life. Deeper devotion Nowhere hath knelt; Fuller emotion Heart never felt. 'Tis loving and serving The Highest and Best! 'Tis Onwards ! unswerving, And that is true rest. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST NUMBER OF THE DIAL. The Editors to the Reader i A Short Essay on Critics 5 To the Aurora Korealis 11 Notes from the Journal of a Scholar 13 The Religion of Beauty 17 Brownson's Writings 22 The Last Farewell 47 Ernest the Seeker (Chapter Fust) 48 The Divine Presence in Nature and in the Soul 58 Sympathy 71 Lines 72 Allston Exhibition 73 Song — To * * * 84 Orphic Sayings 85 Stanzas 98 Channing's Translation of Jouffroy 99 Aulus Persius Flaccus 117 The Shield 121 The Problem 122 Come Morir? 123 The Concerts of the past Winter 124 A Dialogiie 134 Richter — The Morning Breeze 135 Dante — Sketches 163 269 22 The literary achievements of Transcendentalism are best ex- hibited in the " Dial," a quarterly " Magazine for Literature, Philosophy and Religion," begun July, 1840, and ending April, 1844. The editors were Margaret Fuller and R. W. Emerson; the contributors were the bright men and women who gave voice in literary form to the various utterances of the tran- scendental genius, Mr. Emerson's bravest lectures and noblest poems were first printed there. Margaret Fuller, besides numerous pieces of miscellaneous criticism, contributed the article on Goethe, alone enough to establish her fame as a discerner of spirits, and the paper on " The Great Lawsuit ; Man versus Men — Woman versus Women," which was after- wards expanded into the book " Woman in the XlXth cen- tury." Bronson Alcott sent in chapters the " Orphic Sayings," which were an amazement to the uninitiated and an amusement to the profane. Charles Emerson, younger brother of the essayist, whose premature death was bewailed by the admirers of intellect and the lovers of pure character, proved by his " Notes from the Journal of a Scholar," that genius was not confined to a single member of his family. George Ripley, James Freeman Clarke, Theodore Parker, Wm. H, Channing, Henry Thoreau, Eliot Cabot, John S. Dwight the musical critic, C. P. Cranch the artist-poet, Wm. E. Channing, were liberal of contributions, all in characteristic ways ; and unnamed men and women did their part to fill the numbers of this most re- markable magazine. The freshest thoughts on all subjects were brought to the editors' table ; social tendencies were noticed ; books were received ; the newest picture, the last concert, was passed upon ; judicious estimates were made of reforms and reformers abroad as well as at home ; the philosophical discussions were able and discriminating ; the theological papers were learned, broad and fresh. The four volumes are exceedingly rich in poetry, and poetry such as seldom finds a place in popular magazines. The first year's issue contained sixty-six pieces ; the second, thirty-five ; the third, fifty ; the fourth, thirty-three ; among these were Emer- son's earliest inspirations. The " Problem," " Wood-notes," " The Sphinx," " Saadi," " Ode to Beauty," " To Rhea," first appeared in the " Dial." Harps that had long been silent, un- able to make themselves heard amid the din of the later gen- 270 23 eration, made their music here. For Transcendentalism was essentially poetical and put its thoughts naturally into song. The poems in the " Dial," even leaving out the famous ones that have been printed since with their authors' names, would make an interesting and attractive volume. How surprised would some of those writers be if they should now in their prosaic days read what then they wrote under the spell of that fine frenzy ! A remarkable feature of the " Dial " were the chapters of " Ethnical Scriptures," seven in all, containing texts from the Veeshnu Sarma, tlie laws of Menu, Confucius, the Desatir, the Chinese " Four Books," Hermes Trismegistus, the Chaldaian Oracles. Thirty-five years ago, these Scriptures, now so ac- cessible, and in portions so familiar, were known to the few, and were esteemed by none but scholars, whose enthusiasm for ancient literature got the better of their religious faith. To read such things then, showed an enlightened and courageous mind ; to print them in a magazine under the sacred title of " Scriptures " argued a most extraordinary breadth of view. In ofifering these chapters to its readers, without apology and on their intrinsic merits, Transcendentalism exhibited its power to overpass the limits of all special religions, and do perfect justice to all expressions of the religious sentiment. — From Frothiiiirham^s " Transcendentalism, in New JSn^land.^^ "The Dial," the famous organ of the Transcendental movement in New England, was a quarterly, which existed four years, the first number appear- ing in July, 1S40, the last in April, 1844. Good accounts of it are given in the various biographies of Emerson by Cabot, Dr. Holmes, Cooke, Garnett and others; also in the lives of Margaret Fuller, Thoreau, George Ripley, John S. Dwight and Theodore Parker. The most thorough study of its history and influence available to the public is an article " The Dial : an Historical Introduction, with a List of the Contributors," by George Willis Cooke, in the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, July, 1885. Mr. Cooke has recently treated the subject much more fully in a complete volume, accompanying a private reprint by a literary society in Cleveland, Ohio, of the four volumes of The Dial. It is gready to be hoped that this work may be given to the public. When the Atlantic Monthly was established in 1857, many of the old contributors to The Dial wrote for the new magazine. See list of Emerson's contributions to The Dial in Cabot's Life of Emerson, Appendix C. Each number of The Dial contained 136 pages, there being almost exactly the same amount of matter on a page that there is on a page of 271 24 the Old South Leaflets. Of the first five pieces, here reprinted, ''The Editors to the Reader" was written by Emerson, "A Short Essay on Critics" by Margaret Fuller, "To the Aurora Borealis " by C. P. Cranch, " Notes from the Journal of a Scholar " by Emerson's brother Charles, and "The Religion of Beauty " by John S. Dwight. 1903 PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 272 No. 13S. Recollections of Emerson. BY ALEXANDER IRELAND. Mr. Emerson's Visits to England in 1833, 1847-48, and 1872-73. It was in the month of August, 1833, — nearly fifty years ago, — that I had the singular good fortune to make the acquaint- ance of Mr. Emerson, and to enjoy the privilege of several days' intercourse with him. I was then residing in Edinburgh, my native city, and he was on his way home, after his first visit to Europe. He had with him a letter of introduction to a friend of mine, who, luckily for me, w^as then so much engaged in professional duties that he was unable to spare even a few hours to do the honors of the old Scottish metropolis, so the young American traveller was handed over to me, and I thus became " an entertainer of angels unawares." In those early days Mr. Emerson was about thirty years of age, and his name was then utterly unknown in the world of letters ; for the period to which I refer was anterior, by several years, to his delivery of those remarkable addresses which took by surprise the most thoughtful of his countrymen, as well as of cultivated English readers. Neither had he pubUshed any of those essays which afterwards stamped him as the most original thinker America had produced. At that time he was still connected with the Unitarian body in New England, although not in full agreement with it on certain matters of doctrine. On Sunday, the i8th of August, 1833, I heard him deliver a discourse in the Unitarian Chapel, Young Street, Edinburgh, and I remember distinctly the effect which he produced on his hearers. It is almost needless to say that nothing like it had ever been heard by them before, and many of them did not know what to make of 273 it. The originality of his thoughts, and the consummate beauty of the language in which they were clothed, the calm dignity of his bearing, the absence of all oratorical effort, the singular directness and simplicity of his manner, free from the least shadow of dogmatic assumption, made a deep impression on me. Not long before this I had listened to a wonderful sermon by Dr. Chalmers, whose force, and energy, and vehement but rather turgid eloquence carried, for the moment, all before them, his audience becoming like clay in the hands of the potter. But I must confess that the pregnant thoughts and serene self-possession of the young Boston minister had a greater charm for me than all the rhetorical splendors of Chalmers. His voice was the sweetest, the most winning and penetrating of any I ever heard ; nothing like it have I listened to since. That music in our hearts we bore, Long after it was heard no more. We visited together the courts of law and other places of interest to a stranger, and ascended Blackford Hill, which commands a fine view of the city from the south. There were thus good opportunities for conversation. He spoke on many subjects connected with life, society, and literature, and with an affluence of thought and fulness of knowledge which sur- prised and delighted me. I had never before met with any one of so fine and varied culture and with such frank sincerity of speech. There was a graciousness and kind encouragement, too, in his manner, inexpressibly winning to one so much younger than himself; and it was with a feeling almost akin to reverence that I listened to and drank in his high thoughts and ripe wisdom. A refined and delicate courtesy, a kind of spiritual hospitality, so to speak, — the like of which, or any- thing approaching to which, I have never encountered, — seemed to be a part of his very nature, and inseparable from his " daily walk and conversation." It was not therefore extraordinary — rather quite a natural result — that the impression produced on me was intense and powerful. It is with a feeUng of something like pride that I find re- corded, in a journal kept at the time, some memoranda of that brief intercourse, written in a strain of youthful, enthusiastic admiration, and of perfectly confident expectancy as to his future, — a strain which might at that time have sounded very 274 inflated, but which his subsequent career may be said to have rendered ahiiost tame and inadequate. He spoke much about Coleridge, whom he had just visited at Highgate, I happened then to be reading the prose works of that writer, and these formed a fruitful topic of conversation. He spoke of his " Friend " and " Biographia Literaria" as containing many ad- mirable passages for young thinkers, many valuable advices regarding the pursuit of truth and the right methods to be adopted in its investigation, and the importance of having pre- cise and correct notions on moral and intellectual subjects. He considered that there were single sentences in these two works which embodied clearer ideas of some of the most subtle of human speculations than are to be met with in the pages of any other thinker. " Let no one, however, expect in these books of Coleridge's anything strictly symmetrical. The works themselves are disjointed, inconsecutive, and totally destitute of all regularity and plan. As Hazlitt, with his usual acuteness, truly said of them, ' They are vast prefaces and projects pre- liminary to immense productions which he was always contem- plating, but could never bring himself to execute.' " He spoke of Dr. Channing, Sir James Mackintosh, Goethe's " Wilhelm Meister," and Charles Cotton's translation of Montaigne's " Es- says," which he regarded as matchless among translations. "After reading Cotton's racy English," he said, "Montaigne seems to lose if you look into him in the original old French." I find that in an essay on "Books" published in i860 he says that he prefers reading the ancients in translation. It was a tenet of Goethe's that whatever is really valuable in any work is translatable. " I should as soon think," says he, " of swim- ming across Charles River when I want to go to Boston, as of readipg all my books in originals when I have them rendered for me in my mother tongue." After Bohn's volumes of trans- lations of the classics made their appearance, he held that they had done for Hterature what railroads have done for interna- tional intercourse. Some of Walter Savage Landor's " Imaginary Conversations " he greatly admired, particularly those between Bacon and Richard Hooker, Sir Isaac Newton and Isaac Barrow, and Diogenes and Plato. Although not an admirer of the UtiU- tarian philosophy, he had some of Jeremy Bentham's hair and a scrap of his handwriting. He asked me if I was in the habit of writing down my thoughts. I said I was not ; that reading 275 was my greatest pleasure and solace, — labonim dulce /eni7nen. " I advise you," said he, " and other young men to write down your ideas. I have found my benefit in it. It fixes more firmly in your mind what you know and what you have ac- quired, and reveals to you unerringly which of your ideas are vague and which solid." Of De Quincey, Wordsworth, and Carlyle he spoke many times, — especially Carlyle, of whom he expressed the warmest admiration. Some of his articles in the " Edinburgh Review " and " Foreign Quarterly Review " had much struck him — one particularly entitled " Characteristics " — and the concluding passages of another on German Litera- ture, regarding which he was desirous of speaking to the author. He wished much to meet both Carlyle and Words- worth : " Am I who have hung over their works in my chamber at home not to see these men in the flesh, and thank them, and interchange some thoughts with them, when I am passing their very doors ? " He spoke of their " rich thoughts, and rare, noble glimpses of great truths, their struggles to reveal their deepest inspirations, and glorious hopes of the future of hu- manity, — not all at once very apparent, but to be digged out, as it were, reverently and patiently from their works." There was great and, I remember, almost insuperable diffi- culty in ascertaining where Mr. Carlyle then lived, and I well remember the pains Mr. Emerson took to get the information. At last, it was obtained from the secretary to the University. " I will be sure to send you, before sailing, an account of my visit to Carlyle and Wordsworth, if I should be fortunate enough to see them." Accordingly, in faithful fulfilment of his promise, he wrote me a letter on the 30th of August, 1833, from Liver- pool, giving an account of the interviews he had with both of them. These interviews he has described in his " English Traits," published twenty-three years afterwards, and must be well known to the readers of that best of all books on England. He found that Carlyle had heard of his purpose to visit him from a friend, and, on his arrival he insisted on dismissing the gig which had been hired to carry him from Dumfries to Craigenputtock, — a distance of sixteen or seventeen miles. It was therefore sent back, to return the next day, in time for him to secure his seat in the evening coach for the south. So he spent nearly twenty-four hours with Carlyle and his accom- plished wife, who were living in perfect solitude among some desolate hills in the parish of Dunscore, — not a person to speak 276 5 to within seven miles. " I found him one of the most simple and frank of men, and became acquainted with him at once. We walked over several miles of hills, and talked upon all the great questions that interest us most. The comfort of meeting a man of genius is that he speaks sincerely ; that he feels him- self to be so rich that he is above the meanness of pretending to knowledge which he has not, and Carlyle does not pretend to have solved the great problems, but rather to be an observer of their solution as it goes forward in the world. I asked him at what religious development the concluding passage in his piece in the ' Edinburgh Review ' upon German literature (say five years ago) and some passages in the piece called " Characteristics ' pointed ? He replied that he was not com- petent to state it even to himself, — he waited rather to see. My own feeling was that I had met with men of far less power who had got greater insight into religious truth. He is, as you might guess from his papers, the most catholic of philosophers ; he forgives and loves everybody, and wishes each to struggle on in his own place and arrive at his own ends. But his re- spect for eminent men, or rather his scale of eminence, is about the reverse of the popular scale. Scott, Mackintosh, Jeffrey, Gibbon — even Bacon — are no heroes of his ; stranger yet, he hardly admires Socrates, the glory of the Greek world — but Burns, and Samuel Johnson, and Mirabeau, he said interested him, and. I suppose whoever else has given himself with all his heart to a leading instinct, and has not calculated too much. But I cannot think of sketching even his opinions, or repeating his conversations here. I will cheerfully do it when you visit me in America. He talks finely, seems to love the broad Scotch, and I loved him very much at once. I am afraid he finds his entire solitude tedious, but I could not help con- gratulating him upon his treasure in his wife, and I hope he will not leave the moors ; 'tis so much better for a man of letters to nurse himself in seclusion than to be filed down to the common level by the compliances and imitations of city society. And you have found out the virtues of solitude, I remember, with much pleasure." The third day afterwards Mr. Emerson called on Wordsworth at Rydal Mount, and was cordially received, the poet remem- bering up all his American acquaintance. Here is his descrip- tion of the interview : " He had very much to say about the evils of superficial education, both in this country and in mine. 277 He thinks that the intellectual tuition of society is going on, out of all proportion, faster than its moral training, which last is essential to all education. He does not wish to hear of schools of tuition ; it is the education of circumstances which he values, and much more to this point. He says that he is not in haste to publish more poetry, for many reasons, but that what he has written will be at some time given to the world. He led me out into a walk in his grounds, where he said many thousands of his lines were composed, and repeated to me three beautiful sonnets, which he had just finished, upon the occasion of his recent visit to Fingal's Cave, at Staffa. I hope he will print them speedily. The third is a gem. He was so benevo- lently anxious to impress upon me my social duties as an Amer- ican citizen, that he accompanied me near a mile from his house, talking vehemently, and ever and anon stopping short to imprint his words. I noted down some of these when I got to my inn, and you may see them in Boston, Massachusetts, when you will. I enjoyed both my visits highly, and shall always esteem your Britain very highly in love for its wise and good men's sake. I remember with much pleasure my visit to Edinburgh, and my short acquaintance with yourself and your good parents. It will give me very great pleasure to hear from you, to know your thoughts. Every man that ever was born has some that are peculiar. Present my respects to your father and family. — Your friend and servant, R. Waldo Emerson." So much with regard to Mr. Emerson's first visit to England, As every one knows, his name, in a very few years, became celebrated in his own country, exercising a remarkable influence in all thoughtful circles. Mr. Carlyle edited Emerson's first series of Essays published in this country in 1841. In his preface to them he wrote: " The name of Ralph Emerson is not entirely new in England ; distinguished travellers bring us tidings of such a man ; frac- tions of his writings have found their way into the hands of the curious here ; fitful hints that there is, in New England, some spiritual notability called Emerson glide through reviews and magazines. Whether these hints were true or not true, readers are now to judge for themselves a little better. . . . Emer- son's writings and speakings amount to something ; and yet, hitherto, as seems to me, this Emerson is perhaps far less notable for what he has spoken or done than for the many things he has not spoken and has foreborne to do. With 278 uncommon interest I have learned that this, and in such a never-resting, locomotive country, too, is one of these rare men who have withal the invaluable talent of sitting still ! That an educated man, of good gifts and opportunities, after looking at the public arena, and even trying, not with ill success, what its tasks and its prizes might amount to, should retire for long years into rustic obscurity ; and amid the all-pervading jingle oE dollars and loud chaffering of ambitions and promotions, should quietly, with cheerful deliberateness, sit down to spend his life, not in Mammon worship, or the hunt for reputation, influence, place, or any outward advantage whatsoever : this, when we get a notice of it, is a thing worth noting." The publication in England of this and the second series of Essays, which took place a 3'ear or two later, made his name widely known throughout Great Britain, and thinking persons recognized in him an intellectual leader. Many of his friends were desirous that he should come to England, and deliver courses of lectures similar to those he had given with such signal success in various cities of the United States. In this desire I warmly shared. In the autumn of 1846 a very favorable oppor- tunity presented itself of sending a message to him by a common friend — Mr. Lloyd Garrison — who was then sailing from Liver- pool to Boston, and who promised to deliver it himself. I gladly availed myself of the occasion, and on the spur of the moment, just before the ship steamed out of the Mersey, I wrote him a hasty note in pencil, urging him to entertain the project of a lengthened visit to England, and which should embrace the delivery of lectures in some of the chief towns. Before long I received a reply, which was more favorable than I expected. It was full of kind words and reminiscences. " Your sugges- tion is new and unlooked for, yet opens to me at once so many flattering possibilities that I shall cheerfully entertain it, and perhaps we may both see it ripen, one day, to a fact. Certainly it would be much more practicable and pleasing to me to answer an invitation than to come into your cities and challenge an audience," Some months later (28th February, 1847) ^e wrote : " I owe you new thanks for your friendly and earnest attention to the affair of Lectures which you have put me on, but I had not anticipated so prompt an execution of the project as you suggest. Certainly I cannot think of it for April (1847). For September I will think of it, but cannot at present fix any- thing. I really have not the means of forming an opinion of 279 the expediency of such an attempt. I feel no call to make a visit of literary propagandism in England. All my impulses to work of that kind would rather employ me at home. It would be still more unpleasing to me to put upon a few friends the office of collecting an audience for me, by much advertise- ment and coaxing. At the same time it would be very agree- able to me to accept any good invitation to read lectures from institutions, or from a number of friendly individuals who sympathized with my studies. But though I possess a good many decisive tokens of interest in my pursuits and way of thinking from sundry British men and women, they are widely sundered persons, and my belief is that in no one city, except perhaps in London, could I find any numerous company to whom my name was favorably known. If I were younger, it would give me great pleasure to come to England and collect my own audience, as I have done at home here ; and I have that confidence in my favorite topics and in my own habits that I should undertake the affair without the least distrust. But perhaps my ambition does not give to a success of this kind that importance it has had for me. At all events, in Eng- land I incline rather to take than to give the challenge. So that you see my project requires great frankness on your part. You must not suffer your own friendly feelings to give the smallest encouragement to the design. . . . You inquire what are the rates of remuneration of lecturers here. ... I am glad to hear what you tell me of your employments and position. I doubt not life has taught and is teaching us both one lesson. It would be strange, but most agreeable to me, to renew again our brief yet never-forgotten acquaintance of thirteen or four teen years ago in Edinburgh. — With ever kindest regards.'" It was quite characteristic of Mr. Emerson to underestimate the extent to which his name was known and his writings ap- preciated in England. No sooner was it announced that he had decided to revisit this country and to read lectures than (as has been stated in a previous page) applications from every part of the kingdom began to flow in, and in many cases it was found impossible to comply with the wishes of the requisition- ists, from a fear of committing him to engagements which might have become burdensome to him. Speaking of the occa- sion of his second visit to England in "English Traits," he says: " I did not go very willingly. I am not a good traveller, nor have I found that long journeys yield a fair share of rea- 280 sonable hours. But the invitation was repeated and pressed at a moment of more leisure, and when I was a little spent by some unusual studies. I wanted a change and a tonic, and England was proposed to me. Besides, there were, at least, the dread attraction and salutary influences of the sea, so I took my berth in the packet ship, ' Washington Irving,' and sailed from Boston on Tuesday, 5th October, 1847." His friend Carlyle was greatly delighted with the prospect of again seeing Mr. Emerson. A letter from the latter, announc- ing the probable time of his sailing, had, by accidental negli- gence at a country post-office, failed to reach Carlyle in due course, and only turned up near the time of Mr. Emerson's expected arrival, thus depriving his friend of the opportunity of responding. The only thing left to be done was to get the reply delivered to Mr. Emerson as soon as he should land. Knowing that I was in communication with him, and certain to be cognizant of the time of his arrival, Mr. Carlyle wrote me on the subject, and his letter is so delightfully character- istic of his high regard for Mr. Emerson, and his earnest desire to free himself from even the slightest appearance of a want of hospitality, that I must give an extract from it. It is dated Chelsea, 15th October, 1847, just ten days after Mr. Emerson had sailed: "By a letter I had very lately from Emerson — which had lain, lost and never missed, for above a month in the treacherous post-office of Buxton, where it was called for and denied — I learned that Emerson intended to sail for this country ' about the ist of October ; ' and infer, therefore, that probably even now he is near Liverpool or some other of our ports. Treadmill, or other as emphatic admonition, to that scandalous post-master of Buxton ! He has put me in extreme risk of doing one of the most unfriendly and every way un- pardonable-looking things a man could do ! Not knowing in the least to what port Emerson is tending, when he is expected, or what his first engagements are, I find no way of making my word audible to him in time, except that of entrusting it, with solemn charges, to you, as here. Pray do me the favour to contrive in some sure way that Emerson may get hold of that note the instant he lands in England. I shall be perma- nently grieved otherwise ; shall have failed in a clear duty (were it nothing more) which will never, probably, in my life offer itself again. Do not neglect, I beg much of you ; and, on the whole, if you can, get Emerson put safe into the express 281 lO train, and shot up hither, as the first road he goes ! That is the result we aim at. But the note itself, at all events, I pray you get that delivered duly, and so do me a very great favour, for which I depend on you." I need scarcely say that these solemn injunctions, so characteristic of Carlyle, were faithfully carried out to the very letter. The ship reached Liverpool on the 2 2d of October, 1847, and Mr, Emerson at once proceeded to Manchester, where I had the pleasure of receiving him at the Victoria Station. After spending a few hours in friendly talk, he was " shot up," as Carlyle had desired, to Chelsea, and at the end of a week returned to Manchester to commence the first of a series of lecturing engagements which had been arranged for him. In a previous page (Memoir, p. 16) I have endeavored to give the reader some idea (I feel how inadequate it is) of Emerson's manner of reading in public, and its influence on his hearers. During his stay in Manchester, and just before going to London to pay a round of visits and to lecture, he invited a number of friends from various parts of the country to dine and spend an evening with him at his lodgings in Lower Broughton. His guests were principally young men,- — ardent, hopeful, enthusiastic moral and religious reformers and vision- aries, gathered together from Birmingham, Sheffield, Notting- ham, Liverpool, Huddersfield, Newcastle, and other towns. One of them, a man of erratic genius, and of very straitened means (but nevertheless an inveterate smoker), who not many years ago died in a lunatic asylum in New York, trudged on foot all the way from Huddersfield to be present, and next day performed the same feat homeward. He has left behind him a detailed description of this gathering, written in a rather sar- castic spirit, but curious for its life-like sketches of his fellow- guests. One of the finest spirits assembled on that occasion — Henry Sutton, of Nottingham, whose little volume of poems, in Emerson's opinion, contained pieces worthy of the genius of George Herbert — and who, happily, is still living in our midst, honored and beloved by his friends — says that the impression left on his mind was that the affair went off admirably, and that all seemed delighted to have had such an opportunity of coming into closer contact with Emerson — that no one could but feel gratified by his kindliness and gentle dignity, and that his conduct and manner were perfect. " Any criticism to the contrary could only excite pity for the writer, if it did not too II strongly call forth disgust." It was a memorable symposium. With his fine graciousness of manner and delicate courtesy, Emerson listened with serene amiability and an ineffably sweet smile to everything his young guests had to say, and made them feel, as was his wont, that he was the favored one of the party, and that he specially was imbibing much wisdom and benefit from their discourse. In the course of the evening, being urgently requested to do so, he read his lecture on Plato, then in MS., but now printed in his " Representative Men." Among the guests who were present at this motley gathering were two — no longer living — of whom I wish to say a few words. One of them was Dr. W. B. Hodgson, late Professor of Political Economy in the University of Edinburgh, who died unexpectedly in Brussels in 1880, lamented by a very large circle of friends. I had known him intimately almost from his boyhood. At the time of Emerson's visit he was proprietor and conductor of the Chorlton High School, Manchester. He was a man of brilliant gifts, a classical scholar of no common mark, and master of several European languages. His kindl}^ nature, extensive knowledge of literature, and conversational powers can never be forgotten by those who knew him. As an after-dinner talker he had few equals. His marvellous memory (for he never forgot anything he had ever read, or heard, or seen) supplied him with an inexhaustible store of witty and humorous stories and anecdotes, sparkling bon mots, and an unfailing affluence of apt quotation. No story, however good, could be told by another person in his presence which he was not able to cap on the instant by a better one. In this social field he was facile princeps. During his life he rendered most valuable services to the cause of education by his addresses, lectures, and other publications, and by his vast (for no other word can in this case be used) correspondence with educational reformers, political economists, and heads of schools and col- leges in every part of the kingdom. I may safely say that during forty years he spent on an average two or three hours a day, at least, in correspondence. The other guest to whom I wish to refer was Joseph Neu- berg, whom I knew for more than twenty years, and whose memory I cherish for his many admirable qualities of head and heart. He was a highly cultivated and thoughtful German, born at Wiirzburg. Mr. Emerson had made his acquaintance at Nottingham, when lecturing there, — was, indeed, his guest. 283 12 Neuberg was a successful merchant, and had recently sustained a severe domestic affliction in the death of his wife. At the time I speak of, he was living with a sister as his companion, in a beautiful home, looking down upon the Trent and its green meadows. He had ardent literary tastes, was an enthusiastic admirer of Carlyle's writings, and had long wished to become acquainted with him. The gratification of this desire was brought about by the friendly aid of Emerson, who spoke of him to Carlyle in terms of high commendation. Neuberg after- w^ards proposed to Carlyle to wind up his business and to re- side in London, and live on the modest fortune he had made, devoting himself, heart and soul, to his service. This proposal soon became a reality. He finally left Nottingham, after wind- ing up his affairs, and settled in London,- From that period up to the time of his death, about fifteen years ago, he was in almost daily communication with Carlyle. His industry was untiring. He made researches for Carlyle in all quarters, often spending days and weeks in the library of the British Museum, unearthing facts and dates from hundreds of obscure and neglected books, manuscripts, and maps, thus saving his friend an endless amount of distasteful drudgery. He would think nothing of spending a whole day in verifying a single fact or date. During the composition of " The Life of Friedrich " his services were of great value, and were fully appreciated by Carlyle. They proceeded together to Germany, and inspected all the battlefields and places of his- torical interest described in the Life. He also translated into German the successive volumes of the work. By this arrange- ment they appeared simultaneously in London and Berlin. Neuberg did not live to translate the last two volumes, which were done by another hand. Carlyle was much grieved when death deprived him of this faithful friend and assistant. In no account of his friend which has yet appeared, has any notice been taken of Neuberg, nor any tribute paid to his memory. In the " Reminiscences " his name once occurs in a parenthesis, but there is no note appended to tell the reader who he was — Stat nominis umbra. In " Shooting Niagara ; and after ? " Carlyle quotes a piece of information furnished to him by Neu- berg. Without naming him, he speaks of his informant as "one of the wisest and faithfullest German friends I ever had, a correct observer, and much a lover both of his own country and of mine." In a letter from Carlyle to Mr. Neuberg's 284 13 sister, written in April, 1867, he says: "If the bust give you any satisfaction, surely I shall think it, all my days, to have been well worth while ! No kinder friend had I in this world ; no man of my day, I believe, had so faithful, loyal, and willing a helper as he generously was to me for the last twenty or more years. To look for his like again would be very vain indeed, were I even at the beginning of my course, instead of at the end ! A man of fine faculty, too ; — decidedly the most intelli- gent, swift, and skilful, at that kind of work, whom I have ever seen and known of. The memory of him will remain dear and noble to me ; — the sudden stroke that has cut away such a friend, in these my otherwise desolate days, may well be sad and heavy to me. But if so to me, what then is it to you and your dear little ones ? Alas, on this head I must say nothing. I will bid you be of courage, pious courage, and in all things try to do as you think he would have ordered and wished ; which I believe will daily be your best consolation in this sore trial." During the fortnight in which Mr. Emerson delivered his course of lectures in London, at the Portman Square Literary and Scientific Institution in the summer of 1848 (referred to at page 15 of the Memoir), I had the honor of being his guest. He had lodgings in the house of Mr. John Chapman in the Strand, — a well-known publisher of those days. As he had been already many weeks in London, he had met a large num- ber of Uterary and social celebrities, including Rogers, Hallam, Milman, Barry Cornwall, Helps, Clough, Matthew Arnold, Fara- day, Owen, Lyell, Carpenter, Mrs. Jameson, Henry Crabb Robinson, Mrs. Somerville, Dickens, Thackeray, Tennyson, and, I beUeve, Macaulay. He also received invitations from and visited several members of the aristocracy, including the Duchess of Sutherland. Notwithstanding his numerous so- cial engagements, he generally devoted many hours a day to study, retiring to his room immediately after breakfast, and ex- tending the forenoon to three o'clock. The lectures to which I have referred were prepared with much care, as will be seen by his correspondence with myself, prior to my joining him in London. During this visit we went to some of the theatres together, on one evening hearing Jenny Lind, who was then achieving her first triumphs in London. He was very desir- ous of caUing upon Leigh Hunt, and, as I had known the latter for many years, and was in the habit of spending an evening 285 14 with him when business carried me to London, it was pro- posed that I should take him to Hunt's house. The interview lasted, I think, a couple of hours, and evidently gave great pleasure to both. I have already mentioned that he thought the two finest-mannered literary men he had met in Eng- land were Leigh Hunt and De Quincey. Hunt charmed him by his sprightly, sparkling conversation, overflowing with anec- dote and quotation. His courteous and winning manner was on this occasion tempered by a certain delicate reverence, in- dicating how deeply he felt the honor of being thus sought out by his distinguished visitor. It is singular that Hunt produced a similar impression upon Hawthorne. I venture to give a portion of his description of him, — one of the most touching sketches that Hawthorne has written : " He was a beautiful old man. In truth, I never saw a finer countenance, either as to the mould of features or the expression, nor any that showed the play of feeling so perfectly. It was like a child's face in this respect. At my first glimpse of him, I discerned that he was old, his long hair being white, and his wrinkles many. It was an aged visage, in short such as I had not at all expected to see, in spite of dates, because his books talk to the reader with the tender vivacity of youth. But when he began to speak, and as he grew more earnest in conversation, I ceased to be sensible of his age ; sometimes, indeed, its dusky shadow dark- ened through the gleam which his sprightly thoughts difi^used about his face, but then another flash of youth came out of his eyes, and made an illumination again. I never witnessed such a wonderfully illusive transformation, before or since ; and, to this day, trusting only to my recollection, I should find it diffi- cult to decide which was his genuine and stable predicament, — youth or age. I have met no Englishman whose manners seemed to me so agreeable — soft, rather than polished, wholly unconventional, the natural growth of a kindly and sensitive disposition, without any reference to rule, or else obedient to some rule so subtle that the nicest observer could not detect the application of it. I felt that no effect upon my mind of what he uttered, no emotion, however transitory, in myself, escaped his notice, — his faculty of observation was so penetra- tive and delicate. On matters of feeling, and within a certain depth, you might spare yourself the trouble of utterance, be- cause he already knew what you wanted to say, and perhaps a little more than you would have spoken. There were abun- 286 15 dant proofs throughout our interview of an unrepining spirit, resignation, quiet relinquishment of the worldly benefits that were denied him, thankful enjoyment of whatever he had to enjoy, and piety and hope shining onward into the dark. — all of which gave a reverential cast to the feeling with which we parted from him. I wish that he could have had one full draught of prosperity before he died. At our leave-taking he grasped me warmly by both hands, and seemed as much in- inteiested in our whole party as if he had known us for years. All this was genuine feeling, a quick, luxuriant growth out of his heart, which was a soil for flower seeds of rich and rare varieties, not acorns, but a true heart, nevertheless." The effect produced upon Emerson by his visit to Leigh Hunt was in most respects the same as in the case of Hawthorne, and could not be expressed in more true and touching words than those I have just quoted. He often recurred to the interview, and spoke of it as one of the most delighful he had ever had with a man of letters. Many interesting places and persons we saw together in London. An evening spent at the house of John Minter Morgan, a wealthy social reformer and associationist, deserves special mention. This gentleman was an amiable, gentle, and sweet-mannered enthusiast, and had written several works well known in his peculiar field of literature : ■' Hampden in the Nineteenth Century," " Colloquies on Religion," " The Chris- tian Commonwealth," " Extinction of Pauperism," " The Re- volt of the Bees." " The Phcenix Library," a series of works original and reprinted on the Renovation and Progress of Society, in religion, morality, and science. It is only necessary to read the titles of these works in order to know the views and opinions of this worthy moral reformer. He had met Emerson somewhere in London, and obtained the promise of an evening. Thereupon was gathered in his large drawing-room an extraor- dinary assembly, consisting of many of the leading socialists in London. The first part of the evening was spent in the con- templation of a huge colored revolving view of a series of asso- ciated villages and homes, with the most enchanting representa- tions of churches for the cultivation of universal religion, ele- gant lecture and concert rooms, and theatres, — of ladies and gentlemen walking about in the healthy costumes of the future, their children playing about them, and over all a sky of un- clouded blue. Mr. Morgan, with a long rod, explained to his 287 i6 audience the meaning and significance of all these beautiful objects, and answered many questions put to him by timid believers and admirers, chiefly ladies. After this entertainment the company adjourned to tea and coffee, and after a couple of hours spent in introductions and the conversations naturally flowing therefrom, the party broke up at eleven o'clock. Emer- son confessed that he had never before met such a gathering of singular people, and often humorously alluded to it after- wards. On the day which Mr. Emerson spent in Edinburgh, on his last visit to Europe (May 8th, 1873), he dined at the house of a friend, Dr. William Smith, the translator of many of Fichte's works, and President of the Edinburgh Philosophical Associa- tion, who heard him preach in Edinburgh in 1833, and who had listened to his lectures in 1848. At the dinner party he met Lord Neaves,* Dr. W. B. Hodgson, and the widow of Dr. Samuel Brown, who had been his host in 1847-48, and a few other friends. He was greatly delighted with the brilliant fire of repartee and wit which was kept up between Lord Neaves and Dr. Hodgson, as well as of the songs of the former, who sang not a few; and he frequently referred to this "wit com- bat" on his visit to me a few days later. In a scrap-book of the son of his Edinburgh host he inscribed this memorial of his visit : " After a happy evening with excellent company " — R. Waldo Emerson, 8th May, 1873. On the evening of his arrival (7th May) he met a large party of notabilities in the house of Professor Eraser. A characteristic incident relating to this visit is worth recording. His host. Dr. Smith, thus relates it: "On the 8th I drove him for some time about the city : Miss Emerson, being rather indisposed, remained at the hotel. In the course of our drive we, stopped at the shop of a worthy tradesman in Nicholson Street, who is an enthusiastic admirer Qf E. I had been informed that he had been making anxious inquiries about E.'s place of abode and the probable time of his departure, so that he might have a chance of getting a glimpse of his hero. I alighted and entering the shop said, * Lord Neaves was a distinguished member of the Scottish bench, and a man of fine culture, a recognized wit and humorist, and of the most genial disposition ; he was a general favorite in Edinburgh social circles. He was the author of many songs and verses, social and scientific, contributed to " Blackwood's Magazine." These have been collected, and have gone through several editions. Some of these verses had quite a renown at the time of their publication. Among them may be named " The Origin of Species," " The Permissive Bill," " I'm very fond of Water," " Hilli-onnee," " Stuart Mill on Mind and Matter," " Let us all be unhappy on Sunday,'' and others. 17 ' Mr. , Mr. Emerson is at the door, and will be glad to see you for a few minutes.' You may imagine his delight at this unexpected fulfilment of his wishes. The five minutes were well spent, and I have no doubt are a cherished memory." He spent the last two days of this his final visit to England under my roof, along with his devoted daughter, Ellen. This afforded an opportunity of bringing together many of his old friends and hearers of 1847-48, whom he was well pleased to meet. To every one he gave a few minutes, and the stream of conversation flowed on for several hours. After all the guests had departed, he indulged in a cigar, and expressed his gratifi- cation at having met so many " good people," as he called them. " Would that I could have held converse with each for half an hour ! " A capital hon mot, related by him on this occasion, must here be recorded. It would have rejoiced the heart of dear Charles Lamb. Speaking of a convivial club, of which he was a member, having ceased and dispersed for many years, it was thought desirable that the survivors should once more assemble, and revive their old recollections. An interval of ten years had meanwhile elapsed. While the wine was circulating, some one proposed that the society should have a gathering every ten years, Mr. Appleton, one of the company, instantly said, " Then it should have the title of a Dutch picture, ' Boors Drinking ' after Teniers " (ten years). His last hours in Liver- pool, before saiUng, were spent with Mr. R. C. Hall, an old friend and admirer. It has often struck me that the " marble self-possession " of Emerson, his perfect reliance upon his own genius and intui- tions, his grand self-dependence, which no passing excitement could disturb or shake for a moment, and his steadfast belief in the ultimate sovereignty of righteousness and truth are well indicated in the following remarkable lines, written by an old English poet early in the seventeenth century, — Samuel Daniel : — One who of such a height hath built his mind, And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong, As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame Of his resolved powers, nor pierce to wrong His settled peace, nor to disturb the same. i8 And with how free an eye doth he look down Up(jn these lower regions of turmoil, Where all these storms of passion vainly beat On fiesh and blood ; where honor, power, renown, Are only gay afflictions, golden toil; Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet As frailty doth, and only great doth seem To little minds, who do it so esteem. who hath prepared A rest for his desires ; and sees all things Beneath him; and hath learned this book of man, Full of the notes of frailty ; and compared The best of glory with her sufferings : inured to any hue The world can cast ; that cannot cast that mind Out of its form of goodness ; that doth see Both what the best and worst of earth can be ; Which makes, that whatsoever here befalls. He in the region of himself remains. Emerson's Speech at the Banquet of the Athen/Eum, Manchester, England, November, 1847.* Mr. Chair Jiian and Goitleinen : It is pleasant to me to meet this great and brilliant company, and doubly pleasant to see the faces of so many distinguished persons on this platform. But I have known all these persons already. When I was at home, they were as near to me as they are to you. The arguments of the League and its leader are known to all the friends of free trade. The gayeties and genius, the political, the social, the parietal wit of " Punch " go duly every fortnight to every- boy and girl in Boston and New York. Sir, when I came to sea, I found the " History of Europe " f on the ship's cabin table, the property of the captain ;^ — -a sort of pro- gramme or play-bill to tell the seafaring New Englander what he shall find on his landing here. And as for Dombey, sir, there is no land where paper exists to print on, where it is not found ; no man who can read, that does not read it, and, if he cannot, he finds some charitable pair of eyes that can, and hears it. But these things are not for me to say ; these compliments, though true, would better come from one who felt and understood these merits more. I am not here to exchange civilities with you, but rather to speak of that which I am sure interests these gentlemen more than their own praises ; of that which is good in holidays and working-days, the same in one century and in another century. * Sir Archibald Alison presided and made the opening speech, and was followed by Cobden, Cruikshank, and others. t By Sir A. Alison. 290 19 That which hires a soHtary American in the woods with the wish to see England, is the moral peculiarity of the Saxon race, — its com- manding sense of right and wrong, — the love and devotion to that, — this is the imperial trait, which arms them with the sceptre of the globe. It is this which lies at the foundation of that aristocratic character, which certainly wanders into strange vagaries, so that its origin is often lost sight of, but which, if it should lose this, would find itself paralyzed ; and in trade, and in the mechanic's shop, gives that honesty in performance, that thoroughness and solidity of work, which is a national characteristic. This conscience is one element, and the other is that loyal adhesion, that habit of friendship, that homage of man to man, running through all classes, — the electing of worthy persons to a certain fraternity, to acts of kindness and warm and stanch support, from year to year, from youth to age, — which is alike lovely and honorable to those who render and those who receive it: — which stands in strong contrast with the superficial at- tachments of other races, their e.xcessive courtesv, and short-lived connection. You will think me very pedantic, gentlemen, but holiday though it be, I have not the smallest interest in any holiday, except as it cele- brates real and not pretended joys ; and I think it just, in this time of gloom and commercial disaster, of affliction and beggary in these districts, that, on these very accounts I speak of, you should not fail to keep your literary anniversary. I seem to hear you say, that, for all that is come and gone yet, we will not reduce by one chaplet or one oak leaf the braveries of our annual feast. For I must tell you, I was given to understand in my childhood, that the British island from which my forefathers came, was no lotus-garden, no paradise of serene sky and roses and music and merriment all the year round, no, but a cold foggy mournful country, where nothing grew well in the open air, but robust men and virtuous women, and these of a wonderful fibre and endurance ; that their best parts were slowly revealed : their virtues did not come out until they cjuarrelled : they did not strike twelve the first time ; good lovers, good haters, and you could know little about them till you had seen them long, and little good of them till you had seen them in action ; that in prosper- ity they were moody and dumpish, but in adversity they were grand. Is it not true, sir, that the wise ancients did not praise the ship part- ing with fiying colors from the port, but only that brave sailer which came back with torn sheets and battered sides, stript of her banners, but having ridden out the storm? And so, gentlemen, I feel in regard to this aged England, with the possessions, honors and trophies, and also with the infirmities of a thousand years gathering around her, irretrievably committed as she now is to many old cus- toms which cannot be suddenly changed : pressed upon by the transitions of trade, and new and all incalculable modes, fabrics, arts, machines, and competing populations, — I see her not dispirited, not 2QI 20 weak, but well remembering that she has seen dark days before; — indeed with a kind of instinct that she sees a little better in a cloudy day, and that in storm of battle and calamity, she has a secret vigor and a pulse like a cannon. I see her in her old age, not decrepit, but young, and still daring to believe in her power of endurance and expansion. Seeing this, I say, All hail ! mother of nations, mother of heroes, with strength still equal to the time ; still wise to enter- tain and swift to execute the policy which the mind and heart of mankind requires in the present hour, and thus only hospitable to the foreigner, and truly a home to the thoughtful and generous who are born in the soil. So be it ! so let it be ! If it be not so, if the courage of England goes with the chances of a commercial crisis, I will go back to the capes of Massachusetts, and my own Indian stream, and say to my countrymen, the old race are all gone, and the elasticity and hope of mankind must henceforth remain on the Alle- ghany ranges, or nowhere. Alexander Ireland, the lifelong English friend of Emerson, was born at Edinburgh in 1810. Brought up to a business life, his warm literary interest procured him many in- tellectual friends, among them the brothers Chambers. His friendship with Dr. John Gairdner, to whom Emerson came with an introduction in 1833, led to his acquaintance with the latter. In 1S43 he removed to Manchester, where in 1840 he became publisher of the Manchester Exaiiiim-r, the organ of the advanced liberalism represented by John Bright and his associates. All the arrangements fur Emerson's lectures in England in 1S47-48 were made by him. As Emerson said, " he approved himself the king of all friends and helpful agents, — the most active, unwearied, imperturbable." He was a member of the committee that organized the Manchester Free Library in 1851. He was a friend of Carlyle and of Leigh Hunt, and prepared a useful bibliography of the writings of Hunt and of Hazlitt, and also memoirs of both. Upon Emerson's death in 1882 he published a biography of him, afterward enlarged, containing the chapter of Recollections which constitutes the present leaflet, and which has never before been published in America. His " Book Lovers' En- chiridion," a rich collection of passages in praise of books, is well known. He died in i8q4. A collection of his books, rich in editions of English writers, was presented in 1895 to the Manchester Free Library by Thomas Read Wilkinson, and a special catalogue was issued in 1898. '■ Ireland," says Richard Garnett in his article upon him in the Dictionary of National Biography, "was an excellent man, generous, hospitable, full of intellectual interests, and perseveruig in his aid of public causes and private friends." Garnett's biographies of Emerson and Carlyle contain much of interest concerning Emerson's three visits to England. The former contains a careful Emerson bibliography by John P. Anderson, in which are many references to essays and articles upon Emerson by European authors. Matthew Arnold, John Morley, Augustine Birrell, John Beattie Crozier, George Gilfillan, and W. L. Courtney are among the English writers who have written the most valuable estimates of Emerson. The Correspondence of Emerson and Carlyle and Froude's Life of Carlyle are of the highest importance in connection. -See also the Correspondence of Emerson and John Sterling, the Life of Arthur Hugh Clough, and Conway's "Emerson at Home and Abroad." Edgar Quinet was perhaps the principal lover of Emerson in France in his time ; Herman Grimm, in Germany. The Correspondence of Emerson and Grimm has been published. Emerson's " English Traits " was a result of his second visit to England. His lectures on Italy and France have never been published. 1903 . PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 292 No. 139. The American Lyceum, OR SOCIETY FOR THE IMPROVEMENT OF SCHOOLS AND DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.* This Institution consists of Town and County Lyceums, and measures are in progress to organize State Lyceums, and a General Union of the whole. TOWN LYCEUMS. A Town Lyceum is a voluntary association of individuals disposed to improve each other in useful knowledge, and to advance the interests of their schools. To gain the first object, they hold weekly or other stated meetings, for reading, conver- sation, discussion, illustrating the sciences, or other exercises designed for their mutual benefit ; and, as it is found convenient, they collect a cabinet, consisting of apparatus for illustrating the sciences, books, minerals, plants, or other natural or artificial productions. To advance the interests of schools, they furnish teachers with a room, apparatus, and other accommodations, for holding meetings, and conducting a course of exercises in relation to their schools, some of the eldest members of which, with other young persons, attend the meetings of Lyceums, where they are exercised and instructed in a manner fitted to their pursuits and wants. It is supposed that Lyceums may aid in furnishing schools with some simple apparatus, juvenile books or other articles, fitted to awaken an interest and communicate instruction to their members. * Boston: T. R. Marvin, Printer, 32 Congress Street. 1829. 293 Town Lyceums have conducted their exercises in several dif- ferent ways, to suit the washes and acquirements of those who compose them. In some instances these exercises have con- sisted principally in reading interesting or useful articles from periodicals, a conversation on chemistry or other science, a biographical or historical sketch, communications of intelligence of improvements in education or the arts, or any other subject fitted for the entertainment or instruction of the members. The reading has frequently been accompanied or followed by ques- tions, remarks, or conversation, by any disposed to introduce them. In other meetings the sciences have been introduced by short and very familiar illustrations by the means of simple apparatus, six or eight, or perhaps ten or twelve, taking a part in the exer- cises of an evening. Under this plan of exercises, nearly all the members of the Lyceums which have adopted it have not only received, but communicated instruction. In some Lyceums the instruction has been given principally in the form of lectures or dissertations, in which cases one or perhaps two have occupied the attention of the society during a sitting. The instruction given by lectures or dissertations, like that in a more mutual form, is intended to be of a familiar and practical character, that it may be brought within the compre- hension of the most untutored minds. Besides attending meetings of common interest to both sexes and all classes, females have conducted a course of mutual exer- cises among themselves, by spending together, during the sum- mer, one afternoon in a week for reading, composition, and improvement in the various branches of an accomplished and enlightened education. Teachers have also held meetings confined to themselves, in which they have introduced subjects and carried on exercises with particular reference to their schools. At these meetings they have had exercises in reading, giving an opportunity for critical remarks upon pronunciation, emphasis, inflection, modu- lation, and other points in good reading, all eminently calculated to improve them in this useful accomplishment. Exercises in grammar, composition, geography, arithmetic, illustrations in natural philosophy and chemistry, and sometimes discussions or dissertations upon the modes and principles of teaching, have been introduced at these meetings of teachers, and uniformly and immediately for the benefit of themselves and of the schools under their charge. 294 Some of the eldest members of the several schools in a town, with other young persons too far advanced or too much occupied to be benefited from the daily instruction of schools within their reach have, by the aid of professional teachers, clergymen, or other individuals (sometimes ladies) competent and disposed to guide them, carried on a course of weekly exercises, which have given them gradually, but certainly and permanently, a develop- ment and expansion of mind, and a refined and elevated taste. Some of the advantages which have already arisen from the Lyceums which have gone into operation are the following, viz. : 1. The improvemefit of conversation. An immediate and uni- form effect of a Lyceum, wherever it has been established and whatever the mode of conducting its exercises, is the introduc- tion of good topics of conversation into the daily intercourse of families, neighbors, and friends, and that not among the mem- bers merely, but among all who come within the circle of its influence. Subjects of science, or other topics of useful knowl- edge, take the place of frivolous conversation or petty scandal, frequently indulged, and uniformly deplored, in our country villages. When it is considered that conversation is a constant, and an exhaustless source of information, either good or bad, in every town and among the whole race of mankind, it cannot but be evident that any measures which can give it an intellectual, moral, and of course an elevated character must confer a distin- guished benefit upon society. 2. Directing amusements. Few subjects are more important, and none perhaps so much neglected, as amusements. Young people always have had, and, it is beheved and hoped, they always will have, places of resort for social enjoyment. From the neglect of parents, and other persons of influence, to furnish them with occasions and opportunities to meet for exercises calculated for the instruction and improvement of each other, as- well as for the enjoyment of social affections of a generous and elevated character, they resort to those calculated to corrupt: and debase their minds, while they afford them no pleasures but those of the most grovelling character. Instead of having placed before them at their meetings books, apparatus, minerals, plants, and other objects calculated to acquaint them with the works and the laws of their Creator, and to lead them to admire the extent, the variety, the richness, and the grandeur of his creation, all designed and fitted for their immediate use and elevated enjoyment, they are presented with shelves of loaded 29s decanters and sparkling glasses, so richly filled and so neatly arranged, and for their enjoyment, too, that to neglect them would be vulgar and unmanly. Experiments are of course made upon their contents, not, however, for their mutual entertainment in conversation, and reflection upon the works and the goodness of their Creator, but in the merry song, the vulgar wit, and the loud laugh. Parents and others to whom the rising generation look, and upon whom they depend for guidance and support, will you be offended at the question whether your children are most to blame for resorting to such places, and engaging in such exer- cises, or yourselves for neglecting to furnish them with better ? On the influence of amusements and conversation, always governing and partaking of the character of each other, and always determining the character of villages, communities, and the world, volumes might be written, but the occasion forbids enlarging. 3. Saving of expense. No principle in political economy is better established by experience than that a liberal support of religious and literary institutions is calculated to promote the pecuniary as well as the intellectual and moral prosperity of the community. Nor is there any mystery in this uniform result from the unerring hand of experiment. It has already been observed that young people must have occasions for social en- joyment and for recreation ; and every one is familiar with the fact that the least useful and the most pernicious amusements are the most expensive. The expense of a year's entertainment and instruction at the meetings and exercises of a Lyceum is from fifty cents to two dollars. The expense of one quarter's instrviction in a dancing school, including extra clothes, pocket money, &c., cannot be estimated at less than ten dollars for each pupil. The expense of one evening's entertainment at a ball or assembly is from two to ten times the expense of a year's enter- tainment at the meetings of a Lyceum. Many young men have paid two dollars for a horse and chaise to ride upon the Sab- bath, with too manly a spirit to mention it as an expense, who would be ready to confess themselves too poor to pay the same sum for a weekly course of the most useful instruction, through the year. Military exercises, which can hardly be considered in any other light than as amusements for young men, cost, upon an average, every one who engages in them in the Com- monwealth of Massachusetts, not less than ten dollars annually. 296 5 The average expense for a town is over two thousand dollars a year. All these amusements are attended with an expense of time which it is difficult to calculate, an expense of money for articles which it is impossible to name, and with an expense of intellects and morals which is truly appalling. These ex- penses it is the tendency of Lyceums to prevent. 4. Calling into use neglected^ Libraries, and giving occasion for establishing new ones. It has been a subject of general regret that public libraries, after a short time, fall into neglect and dis- use. Where a course of weekly or other stated exercises has been carried on in connection or in the vicinity of a library, an occasion for this regret has never been known to exist ; but, on the contrary, the demands immediately and uniformly created for books by the meetings and exercises of Lyceums have led to the enlargement of public libraries, and induced individuals to pro- cure private libraries for their own use. 5. Providing a Seminary for Teachers. In the United States more than 50,000 daily teachers, and from 150 to 200,000 weekly teachers of Sabbath schools, are engaged in forming the character of the rising generation and moulding the destiny of our nation. Raising the quaUfications of this responsible and important class of the community is an object of such vast mo- ment to the prosperity of our country that for several years past it has been the frequent theme of conversation, addresses, ser- mons, and messages and speeches to legislatures. In many places this object has already been attained in a very efhcient manner by weekly or other stated meetings of teachers for the improvement of each other. And at a very trifling expense for providing them with a room, apparatus, and other accommoda- tions, for holding their meetings and conducting their exercises, every town in the United States may enable their teachers itmne- diately and constantly to raise their own characters, and in such a way as immediately and constantly to raise the characters of their schools. If so, can any one conceive of a more powerful or more efficient seminary to qualify teachers than an institution which shall organize and direct a system of exercises by which they shall be enabled to qualify themselves, and that universally, immediately, and constantly ? 6. Befiefiting Academies. Many Academies, Young Ladies' Seminaries, and other institutions of a similar character have been greatly benefited by the exercises of Lyceums. Regular courses of experimental lectures, procured from experienced 297 teachers, and the weekly courses of mutual exercises conducted by Lyceums, have usually been offered as a gratuity, or at a small consideration, to the members of Academies and similar institu- tions for daily instruction. The opportunities of these pupils are consequently increased, not only by providing them with a greater amount of instruction to be received from others, but by leading them to engage in new exercises to instruct themselves. In very many instances, members of Academies have interested others at the meeting of Lyceums ; and, in affording an intellect- ual entertainment to their friends, they have received a tenfold benefit by instructing and improving themselves. 7. Increasing the advantages and raising the character of District Schools. Public schools have been benefited, not only by the facilities offered by Lyceums for the improvement of their teachers, but by the opportunities they present directly to some of the eldest members of these schools to receive a course of weekly instruction of a higher character and under better ad- vantages than can be given among the promiscuous assemblage of children, and the great variety of objects which these schools usually embrace, A weekly meeting of a few pupils from all the schools in a town, to be instructed and examined by several teachers, and by their parents or others interested in their wel- fare, acts almost with the rapidity and the power of electricity on all the teachers and all their schools. They immediately leave the dull monotonous circle in which they have been travelling for years, and commence an onward and upward course. Their energies are awakened and invigorated, their minds are expanded, and they begin in earnest to lay broad and strong a foundation for their future characters and respecta- bility. 8. Compiling of Tozvn Histories. Several Lyceums have un- dertaken to procure histories of the towns where they are placed. In almost every town there remain a few of those patriots who purchased at so dear a rate the independence we now enjoy. And it would perhaps be difficult to determine to whom it would afford the purest and richest entertainment, to themselves in relating the tales of their wrongs, their battles, and their successes, or to their children and grandchildren in listening to them. But that it would afford a mutual entertainment to the old and young to hold a few meetings, to recount and to learn the most interesting incidents in the history of the place of their residence or their birth, especially at this most interesting pe- 2 98 riod in the history of our country, no one can deny or doubt. Nor can it be doubted that a historical sketch of every town would furnish interesting and important documents to be pre- served for the generations that are to follow. 9. Tozvn Alaps. A few Lyceums are taking measures to pro- cure maps of their towns. To procure surveys for the purpose has been proposed as an exercise in the art of surveying to those who wish to acquire it. After a survey and draft are made, it is ascertained from artists that 200 lithographic prints can be procured for twenty-five dollars. And what family would not be willing to pay 12^ cents for a correct map of the town where they reside ? 10. Agricultural and Geological Surveys. Many Lyceums have explored, thoroughly and minutely, the mineral produc- tions, not only of the towns where they are placed, but of the surrounding country. Numerous interesting and useful minerals have been discovered, large collections have been made, and consequently new sources of industry and of wealth have been laid open, and the treasures of science have been enriched. And, when it is considered that the Geology and Mineralogy of our country are intimately connected with agriculture and in- ternal improvements, the importance of having them fully and minutely explored must appear too great and too manifest to require one word to explain or enforce it. And, if time would permit, it might be easily shown that our resources in the min- eral kingdom can be more fully and minutely explored, and the consequent knowledge placed more generally and directly in the possession of those who need it, through the agency of Lyceums than by any other method which can be devised. 11. State Collectio7is of Minerals. Some of the States have commenced collections of minerals deposited in their capitols. When towns or counties are making surveys and collections for their own use, it will be easy to furnish specimens for a general collection, which might be arranged according to towns or geo- logical divisions. These measures would furnish each State with a complete suite of its own minerals and a general collection of foreign specimens. Such collections would be useful, not only to science, but to agriculture and internal improvements, by placing before legislators and others specimens of their own productions, and a knowledge of their own resources in the mineral kingdom, by which industry would be encouraged and individual and public wealth and prosperity increased. 299 Such are some of the advantages which have already, either partially or fully, arisen from the mutual efforts of individuals in numerous towns for the improvement of themselves and the advancement of popular education. COUNTY LYCEUMS. A County Lyceum is a Board of Delegates, consisting of one or more from each town society, who meet semi-annually, and adopt measures to aid the efforts and forward the interests of the several branches which they represent. At their semi-annual meetings public addresses are delivered, and committees ap- pointed, to inquire how books, apparatus, and instruction by lectures, or otherwise, can be procured by the several town Lyceums ; and to learn the state of the schools in the several towns where they are placed, and what measures can be taken to improve them. Some of the county Lyceums have proposed owning some articles of apparatus, too expensive to be owned by each branch, such as a telescope, galvanic apparatus, «S:c., and to employ a lecturer, who should give lectures to the several town Lyceums in succession, and aid them in making geological and agricultural surveys, and in their other efforts for their mutual improvement. They have also proposed to procure maps of the several counties where they are organized, including the to- pography, geology, &c. STATE LYCEUMS. To render the efforts of town and county Lyceums still more efficient, successful, and uniform, they have proposed the forma- tion of State Lyceums, to consist of one or more representatives sent from each county Society. A State Lyceum would be a Board of Education for the State, where it should be organized, and by the appointment of committees for several specific ob- jects would provide means for advancing the various interests of a popular education. One important object designed to be effected by a State Lyceum is the introduction of a uniform system of books and instruction into our public schools. The frequent change and the great diversity of books in our district schools have so long been subjects of general and bitter complaints among parents and teachers that no words are necessary to convince them of the evil or of the importance of providing a remedy. But there is another evil in our pubUc 300 schools, still greater than the variety and change of books. It is the want of a proper selection of branches introduced into our system of popular education, and of uniform and judicious modes of teaching them. Some branches absolutely essential in the ordinary concerns of life are wholly neglected, while others, al- most wholly useless, are dwelt upon year after year by numer- ous children in most of our public schools. A knowledge of the proper mode of writing letters of friendship or business is essential to enable a person to be decent in the social and busi- ness relations of life. But it is scarcely introduced in any of our district schools in New England. The theory of grammar, as it is frequently taught in our public schools, is not only useless, but there is too much reason to beUeve that it is an absolute m- iurv to the intellects of children, by forcing into their minds words which they cannot understand, and consequently giving them a disrelish, not only for the study of grammar, but of other subjects which might otherwise interest them, expand their minds, and fit them for usefulness. A general remedy for this and sim- ilar evils cannot be provided except by a general society. Infant Schools. The success of Infant Schools has been uniform and almost miraculous. They are to form the closing scene in the great and animating drama of the benevolent opera- tions now going on, to rid the world of crime and to fill it with knowledge. They need not be confined to children of the poor and to large cities, but the heavenly blessings which they be- stow may be enjoyed by all classes, and in every village and neighborhood, and even in every family of our race The prin- ciples and management which give these schools of infants syxc\i distinguished success may, and eventually must, be introduced into ail public and other schools, when their success w 1 1 be equally great, and the results equally animating and sublime. But to carry to the door of every mother a school for her infant, as well as to change and elevate the character of all the schools now in operation, a Board of Education seems highly important, if not indispensable. The blessings of Infant Schools, and the extension of those principles and that management which render them the most sublime objects at present upon the earth, a State Lyceum, with the co-operation of County and Town Lyceums would have great power to hasten in every town, village, and neighborhood. . . AKricultural Seminaries. The importance of institutions which shall at once present opportunities for a liberal, ^ practi- ■JO I lO cal, and an economical education, is extensively and sensibly- felt, where by the aid of the plough, the hoe, the turning lathe, the plane and saw, young men may not only fix more deeply in their minds the science acquired in their studies and lecture rooms, and more fully learn its use, but by the practical opera- tions which it directs may educate themselves. The occasion will not permit to enlarge upon the plan or the importance of such institutions, but it may be remarked that, if they should go into operation under the patronage of Lyceums, there could not fail to arise between them a reciprocal, a salutary and a powerful action. The members and friends of Lyceums would furnish pupils to the Seminaries, and the Seminaries would furnish teachers with science and apparatus for illustrat- ing it to Lyceums. The manufactory of apparatus of a simple and practical character, fitted for familiar illustrations in Schools, Academies, and Lyceums, would furnish a most interesting and useful employment for the members of practical Seminaries. It would make them familiar with the principles of science which the various instruments were designed to illustrate, furnish them with an agreeable and healthful exercise, and enable them either partially or wholly to defray the expenses of their education.* GENERAL UNION. As " union is strength," no one can doubt the importance of several State Lyceums uniting to forward the great and numer- ous purposes of a popular and a national education. Numerous advantages might be expected to arise from an American Ly- ceum, which time will not permit to mention. But the publica- tion of a Journal of Education,! numerous cheap, familiar, and practical tracts, on the sciences, the arts, biography, history, &c., to be circulated to the branch Lyceums, Schools, Academies, taverns, steamboats, and private families, would be an object worthy of the united efforts of individuals and societies in differ- ent parts of the country who wished for a universal diffusion of knotvledge. MEASURES TO BE TAKEN. If the question should be asked. What measures can be taken to forward universally throughout our country the interests of * Several liberal offers have been made for the establishment of a Practical Seminary, in the State of Massachusetts, and arrangements are making to open it, if possible, in April or May next. t The American Journal of Education is henceforward to be in part devoted to the objects of the Lyceum. 302 II education ? the answer is short, — Let every town begin. Small and doubtful beginnings have, in numerous instances, ended in great and important institutions. We have all been told that we do not know what we can do until we try. This remark is eminently true in the case of Lyceums. Their success, in most cases, has exceeded the highest expectations of their friends. In some of the smallest towns they have been highly interesting and extensively useful. Obstacles have disappeared almost at their commencement. Enough have been found who are able and disposed to conduct their exercises. When it is known that in this country and in Europe many thousands of the members of infant schools are daily and actively employed in amusing, instructing, and improving each other, the confession must be too humiliatiug for the citizens of any town to make, that none among them are capable of conducting the exercises of a Ly- ceum. And, as every town is interested in the prosperity of their schools and in the enjoyment of an enlightened and moral society, it is hoped that all will unite in the general cause, that they may be partakers of the general benefits it aims to effect. The first step to form a Lyceum is for a few neighbors or citi- zens to agree to hold meetings for their mictiial improvement ; the second, to agree upon the place or places where they will meet; the third, to procure a book, a periodical, or a tract, from which they can read ; the fourth is to procure a few arti- cles of apparatus to illustrate what is stated in the book. These steps seldom fail to lead to others, and to secure success. These, and the appointment of delegates to consult with dele- gates from other towns in the county and vicinity, upon the in- terests of their schools and the general diffusion of knowledge, can cost but little in the experiment, and they may lead to re- sults which will afford a rich and lasting reward. They would at least prepare the way for the formation of a State Lyceum, or a Board of Education, in the spirit, exercises, and benefits of which each town might participate. CONSTITUTION. Many Lyceums have adopted the following or similar articles for their Constitution : — Article i. The objects of the Lyceum are the improvement of its members in useful knowledge and the advancement of Popular Education. 303 12 Art. 2. To effect these objects, they will hold meetings for reading, conversation, discussions, dissertations, illustrating the sciences, or other exercises which shall be thought expedient, and, as it is found convenient, will procure a cabinet consisting of books, apparatus for illustrating the sciences, plants, minerals, and other natural or artificial productions. Art. 3. Any person may be a Member of the Lyceum by paying into the treasury annually Two Dollars ; and Twenty Dollars paid at any one time will entitle a person, his or her heirs or assigns, to one membership forever. Persons under eighteen years of age will be entitled to all the privileges of the Society, except voting, for one- half the annual sum above named. Art. 4. The officers of this branch of the Lyceum shall be a President, Vice-President, Treasurer, Recording and Corresponding Secretaries, three or five Curators, and three Delegates, to be ap- pointed by ballot on the first Wednesday of September annually. Art. 5. The President, Vice-President, Treasurer, and Secretaries will perform the duties usually implied in those offices. The Cura- tors will have charge of the cabinet and all other property of the Lyceum not appertaining to the treasury, and will be the general agents to do any business for the Society under their direction. The delegates will meet delegates from other branches of the Lyceum in this county semi-annually, to adopt regulations for their general and mutual benefit, or to take measures to introduce uniformity and im- provements into common schools, and to diffuse useful and practical knowledge generally through the community, particularly to form and aid a Board of Education. Art. 6. To raise the standard of common education, and to bene- fit the juvenile members of the Lyceum, a portion of the books pro- cured shall be fitted to young minds ; and teachers of schools may be permitted to use for the benefit of their pupils who are members of the Lyceum the apparatus and minerals under such restrictions as the association shall prescribe. Art. 7. The President or any five members will have power at any time to call a special meeting, which meeting shall be legal if notice shall be given according to the direction of the By-laws. Art. 8. The Lyceum will adopt such Regulations and By-laws as shall beliecessary for the management and use of the Cabinet, for holding meetings, or otherwise for their interest. Art. 9. The foregoing articles may be altered or amended by vote of two-thirds present at any legal meeting, said alteration or amendment having been proposed at a meeting not less than four weeks previous to the one at which it is acted upon. RECOMMENDATIONS. The undersigned hereby express their opinion that popular educa- 304 13 tion would be greatly advanced by measures to concentrate the views and efforts of those disposed to act in its behalf to different parts of the country. That the formation of a Society would be the most direct and effi- cient measure to concentrate such views and efforts. That the institution denominated the American Lyceum em- braces in its plan the important objects of a National Society, for the advancement of popular education. That it is highly desirable that an auxiliary to this Society, or a branch Lyceum, should be established in every town. That some simple articles of apparatus are important to render Ly- ceums interesting, useful, and permanent, and that the articles pro- posed by Mr. Holbrook are fitted to this object, and that a portion of them would be useful in district and other schools. That a weekly meeting of teachers for using apparatus, and other exercises in relation to their schools, would have a tendency to raise their qualifications and to increase the value of their services. HENRY WARE. \Acting President of Harvard University. WILLIAM JENKS. {Pastor of Green Street Church, Boston. WARREN FAY. [Pastor of First Church, Charlesto-wn. CHARLES LOWELL. [Pastor of West Church, Boston. EDWARD EVERETT. [Meitiber of Congress. JOHN FARRAR. [Prof, of Math, and Nat. Philosophy, Cambridge. ASA RAND. [Ed. Boston Recorder. DANIEL SHARP. [Pastor of Third Baptist Church, Boston. HOWARD MALCOM. [Pastor of Federal Street Baptist Church. WILLIAM RUSSELL. [Editor Am. four nal of Education. B. B. WISNER. [Pastor of Old South Church. ENOCH POND. [Ed. Spirit of the Pilgrims. SAMUEL GREEN. [Pastor Union Church, Boston. At a meeting of the citizens of Bo.ston, of which Hon. Daniel Webster was chairman, the following, among other resolutions in relation to the Lyceum, was unanimously adopted : — ■ '•'■Resolved, That this meeting consider the institution denominated the American Lyceum as comprehending the chief objects of a general association for popular improvement and for the aid and ad- vancement of common education in primary and other schools." 305 14 The Lyceum System in America, with a Consideration OF its Applicability to Mechanics' Institutions in England. From an article by Thomas Wyse, AI.P., in the Publications of the Ceiitral Society of Education, London, vol. ii. i8j8. Like almost everything in America, the Lyceum system, as it is called, sprang from humble beginnings. The first proposal made to the public was in the loth number of the American Journal of Edu- cation, in the year 1826. At this time not even a designation by which it should be known had been adopted. A few weeks after- wards, the system was more formally proposed to the citizens of Milbury (Massachusetts) ; and a society organized by thirty or forty farmers and mechanics, under the name of " The Milbiiry branch of the Ainerica7i Lyceum^'' was established. Twelve or fifteen towns in the same vicinity promptly followed their example, and united by delegates in forming " The Worcester County Lyceuniy During the same season several societies with similar titles and objects were constituted in the county of Windham (Connecticut) ; and so rapid was the progress that already in 1831 there existed not less than eight hundred or one thousand town Lyceums, fifty or sixty county Lyceums, and a general union of the whole, under the denomination of " The National Lyceum?'' The object of these institutions is in no important particular different from ours. It has, as the report of "The National Lyceum" in 1831 ex- presses it, for its object, the " universal diffusion of knowl- edge. It aims at universal education, by inducing and enabling all whom it embraces to educate themselves : it wishes to en- circle within its influence all classes, — the farmer, the mechanic, not less than the scholar and the philosopher; all ages,— early child- hood, mature life, and declining years." The organization by which this is proposed to be attained is well adapted to the purpose, There are three classes of Lyceums, as has been already stated, one subordinate to the other: ist, "Town Lyceums"; 2d, "County Lyceums " ; 3d, " State Lyceums" ; finally, " the National Lyceum," to which, as to a great National Board for the management of sub- sidiary education, is intrusted the direction and control of the entire system. The " Town Lyceums," which also assume the designation of " Branches of the American Lyceum," are usually composed of the principal inhabitants of the town: the life subscription is twenty, the annual, two dollars, three-fourths of which are applied to the purchase of apparatus, books, tools, &c., for the use of the Town Lyceum, and the remaining one-fourth is forwarded to the County Lyceum, for the purpose of defraying the expenses of county libraries, 306 15 apparatus, and collections too heavy for the Town Lyceums, — of maps and agents for town and county surveys, statistical inquiries, &c. They hold meetings for lectures and essay discussions, in lit- erature and science, at stated periods, and establish classes in va- rious courses, under the superintendence of their lecturers, for the education of their junior members, and the greater improvement of the instruction pursued in schools. The "County Lyceums " propose the same objects (though on a larger scale) as the Town Lyceums, promote the interests of Lyceums generally throughout the country, and co-operate with the State and National Lyceum in the same manner as the Town Lyceums do with them in all measures recommended for the advancement of national education and the general diffusion of knowledge. The members consist of delegates from the several Town Lyceums in the county, each Lyceum having the right of sending thre^. The County Ly- ceum holds semi-annual meetings, for the purpose of hearing reports or statements from the Town Lyceums, supporting discussions, and pronouncing addresses, or reading papers upon any subject relative to the theory or practice of education. They procure, moreover, in proportion to the amount of their funds, a county library, apparatus, collection in natural history, mineralogy, models, &c. ; appoint a supervisor, or civil engineer, to aid in surveys for town or county maps, &c., agents for statistical inquiries, &c. ; and finally carry into execution any other arrangements for the general or special objects of the Lyceum system throughout their jurisdiction. The formation of these collections is shared equally (as far as the labor is in question) by all. It is the result of the active and unceasing research in which the Town Lyceums especially are engaged. Thousands of children, of not more than eight or ten years old know now more of geology, mineralogy, botany, statistical facts. Sec, — in fine, of what immediately concerns their daily interests and occupations, — than was probably known thirty years ago by any five individuals in the United States. Indeed, so universally and to such excellent profit is this taste diffused that in some sections of the country the majority of the school-houses are furnished with collec- tions procured by the children themselves. Town, County, and State Lyceums are thus fitted out, at a trifling expense, with very excellent elementary museums ; and a general deposit and distributing office for their more perfect and uniform supply is established by common co-operation at New York, under the direction of the National de- partment of the institution. Another object, scarcely inferior to the preceding, is the forma- tion of a good series of town, county, and state maps, with accom- panying illustrations and explanations, delineating minutely and comprehensively the physical and moral features and resources, the geography, geology, agriculture, manufactures, commerce, and sta- tistics of each district. To forward this great national object, a 307 i6 committee was appointed by the National Lyceum to determine in the first instance a judicious and uniform mode of delineation. The plan determined on was then forwarded to all the Lyceums ; and maps filled up in pursuance to this plan have been sent up in return, from time to time, from several Lyceums to the committee. When sufficiently tested and approved of, they are published as " Model Maps^'' and in such numbers, and at so cheap a price, that every individual member of every Lyceum is enabled to procure a copy. These model maps form the basis for new geographical, geological, or statistical additions which are likely to be communicated by in- dividuals to the Lyceum, and from one Lyceum to the other. Thus, it is hoped, there will ultimately be a very complete series of town, county, and state atlases, in reference to all these important subjects, on a plan and scale which will be perfectly intelligible, and within the reach of every American from one extremity of the Union to the other. The mental exercise attending these researches is not less important than the researches themselves. The third class, immediately superior to the County Lyceums, are the " State Lyceums." They are composed of delegates from the County Lyceums, as the County Lyceums are of delegates from the Town. They hold annual meetings, as the counties semi-annual, to hear reports from the County Lyceums on the progress of education in every part of the state, to collect and combine facts of a useful character, to publish results and statements of former experiments, to suggest new ones, to confer and propose prizes and rewards, — in a word, to act in every particular as a sort of Provincial Board in aid of the National one (as the National Lyceum may be called) for the promotion of general education. The " National Lyceum," which forms the fourth and crowning department of the institution, is composed of delegates from the State Lyceums. Where State Lyceums are not established, the Na- tional Lyceum invites delegates from the County or Town Lyceums, as the case may be, or, where they have not yet appeared, from the several classes of public teachers. The National Lyceum meets once a year, in May, to receive reports from all the State Lyceums, to discuss subjects connected with the general objects and interests of the institution, especially the advancement of Lyceum and Com- mon School education, and in general to determine the best means which may be devised to insure the general diffusion of useful knowledge. The minutes of their meetings state the subjects which have been discussed. Several are of the highest interest and utility, such as '• The most eligible plan of promoting education by legisla- tive enactments;" "Ought Manual-labor schools to be encouraged, and upon what general plan ? " " What are the greatest desiderata for the improvement of Common Schools? " Some of these questions were argued at great length ; others merely suggested, after a brief outline, for future argument ; and members of the Lyceum appointed 308 17 to collect information, and to prepare reports thereon for the next annual meeting. Ladies, as well as gentlemen, (and who have better claim than they have to be consulted, especially on early education?) the most experienced professors as well as the most distinguished statesmen, theorists and practical men, were all equally engaged — all with an equal zeal and benevolence — • in these most useful pur- suits. Professor C. Dewey was appointed to prepare a report or address " On the Introduction of the Natural Sciences into Common Schools"; the Honorable Mr. Everett, "On Systems of Educa- tion, with a special reference to the promotion of national unity and elevation of character"; Miss C. Beecher, "On the appropriate branches of Female education, and the appropriate organization of Female schools." To collect, consolidate, and perpetuate these ad- vantages, " Corresponding " and " Recording " Secretaries were appointed. The Corresponding Secretaries have each their par- ticular department : to the first is assigned the department of " Colleges, and their connection with Common Schools"; to the second, that of " books, apparatus, and branches of study " ; to the third, " legislative provisions and arrangements for schools, public institutions," &c. They are required during the year to collect details on each of these heads, to report thereon at the annual meeting, and to furnish copies and all accompanying docu- ments relating thereto to the Recording Secretary. The Record- ing Secretary, on his side, has to digest and arrange these materials in a practical form; and to publish them, when approved, for the general benefit of the members and friends of the institution. Nor are these aids confined to pupils : in addition, there are periodical meetings, in the counties, states, and finally at New York, of public Teachers, — -one of the best means yet devised to keep instruction up to the existing standard of civilization. The result of this organization in every department has far ex- ceeded the most sanguine expectations of its founders. It has ex- tended and improved schools, not only by offering infinitely greater facilities and exciting a greater desire for their establishment, but also by elevating the character of their instruction. " By the sim- plest means," adds the Report, " entirely within the reach of every town in the United States, the character of a vast number of schools has been enfiiely chmiged, and that, too, without any additional expense of time or money. Numerous towns are now realizing double from their appropriations to schools of what they received two years since. The same teachers and the same pupils do twice the work but very recently performed by them, in consequence of the management and aid received by them from Lyceums. These in- stitutions virtually constitute a Seminary for Teachers^ already en- joyed by thousands, and capable of being so extended as to embrace every teacher in our Union, and under such circumstances as to im- prove him immediately, constantly, and without expense." — Report, 309 p. II. Indeed, so efficient has such influence been that to it, in a great degree, has been ascribed the Convention of Teachers assem- bled in Boston in May, 1830, consisting of several hundred persons, principally of this profession, from eleven different states in the Union, for the purpose of forming a society of teachers, under the name of the '■^American Institute of Instriiction.'" To judge from their constitution, and the lectures delivered on the occasion, the project was attended with no small degree of success. " To elevate the standard of popular instruction, to obtain by co-operation a knowledge of its actual condition, to diffuse it still more widely, and to raise the standard of the qualification of its instructors, so that the business of teaching shall not be the last resort of dulness and indolence," were objects well worthy the attention of a state whose first principle is " that the wise and continued exercise of their free institutions can only be secured by the universal diffusion of educa- tion "; and, as a consequence, "that the state" — I still quote the Report — "is bound to provide for, and compel, the education of all its citizens." But, lofty as these objects may T^e, proportionate zeal and ability have been evinced in carrying them out into execution. The discourses of Professor Weyland, Mr. Carter, and Mr. Colburn especially, evince the superiority of American teachers as a body to our own,— a superiority not ascribable to any pre-eminence of intel- lect or position, but chiefly, in addition to their own exertions, to their far greater spirit of union and co-operation, favored, as we have seen, by the existence of something like a national system to carry such a feeling into practical effect. But the ameliorations are not limited to the improvement of teachers. It has established, materi- ally enlarged, and extended the sphere and utility of libraries, mu- seums, &c. " Many, before the Lyceum had been established, consisted of not more than a dozen or two of books, and even these few were without readers. The communication of knowledge has infinitely increased the thirst for more. It has formed everywhere not only the nucleus of useful collections, but roused (what is infinitely more valuable) a curiosity and desire of literary and scientific acqui- sition in every class, which will, at no distant period, by its exercise and operation add immeasurably to the ample accumulation already acquired of national and individual wealth and prosperity. It has developed talents before unknown even to the possessors themselves or their friends." It is still further emphatically observed by the Report " that in numerous instances some of the most valuable com- munications have been made by those from whom nothing was an- ticipated, and that not unfrequently in the hands of mechanics and farmers they are found to be conducted with more spirit and energy than when intrusted wholly or principally to men of literary pursuits. This of itself is a most encouraging mental revolution, and distinctly points out the opening of a new era. Everywhere its spirit is visible in the improved habits, moral and intellectual, of the population. 310 19 New and absorbing occupations have been substituted for the old ; idleness yields to industry, intemperance to sobriety, turbulence to order, barbarism and brutality to civilization and refinement. Wher- ever Lyceums have been established, these results are to a degree uniform : the whole tone and character of society are almost in- stantaneously changed and elevated ; the daily intercourse of neigh- bors and friends is diverted into a new and better channel; it continues to flow with increased beauty and energy, and to enliven, purify, and bless everything in its course. In a word, from the Ly- ceum Institution America seems destined yet to receive a remark- able alteration in the whole frame of her society. It will be, at the same time, the humanizer of her manners, the guardian of her insti- tutions, and the best assurance she can desire of her future civiliza- tion, prosperity, and peace." — Report, pp. ii, 12. Such is the American system : it is vast, and perhaps a long period must elapse before it can be put into complete operation. Like most American organizations, it contemplates a comprehensive future, and seems designed by a broad original plan to avoid all those numerous incoherencies to which, from a different principle and conduct, all English administration and legislation are eminently subject. This difference is radical, and results from the different manner in which the two states were founded. Our laws and institu- tions have come to us fragment by fragment, the immediate effect of some urgent necessity, without much reference to past or future. America looks out from her vantage ground over a great community, and creates calmly and deliberately for a still mightier posterity. She already sees, though faintly, the outlines of a great nation, — the village preluding to the town, and the log house to the village, — and prepares for this expanding size and strength accordingly. In the in- terval, whatever is done will be done on system; there will be nothing to waste or thwart future effort ; each part will be in har- mony with the whole and with each other. Emerson once said, " My pulpit is the Lyceum platform." When he retired from the pulpit, in 1S32, he simply transferred his ministry from the churcli to the platform. It was on the lecture platform above all other places that he was at home. He was par exccUence Emerson the Lecturer. Some one has said that he created a new profession, that of the lecturer: and another has said that he gave to the Lyceum in this country its form and char- acter, and made it the efficient instrument of instruction and reform which it was for the third of a centuiy and more during which he occupied the platform. Almost everything that he wrote after " Nature " was written originally for the platform. It is of great significance in the career of Emerson that the Lyceum movement in New England was started just before he needed precisely such opportunities as this organization afforded. The first outline of such work as the Lyceum did in America for a generation in the middle of the nineteenth century was contained in a letter published in the American Jour- rial 0/ Education for October, 1826, under the title of " Associations of Adults for Mutual Education." The letter is anonymous ; but an editorial note states that it is " from an in- dividual whose attention has been long and peculiarly directed to the subject on which he writes, and who has contributed extensive and efficient service to associations modelled on a 3" 20 plan similar to that which is now presented to our readers." Tlie pamphlet reprinted in the present leaflet, first published in Boston in 1829, is the earliest pamphlet concerning the movement, which it shows to have been already well under way at that time. A similar pamphlet was published in Boston in 1831, much fuller than that of 1829, giving a history of the work up to date, and an account of a recent convention in New York to federate the various Lyceums of the country in a "National Lyceum." The passage in the English article, printed above, draws largely upon this pamphlet report of 1S31. The American Lyceum affected very greatly the development of the Mechanics' Institutes in England. It will be remembered that it was to lecture before various of these Mechanics' Institutes that Emerson went to England in 1S47. See Alexander Ireland's Recollections of Emerson, in Old South Leaflet No. 13S. See lecture on " Lyceums and Societies for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge," by Nehemiah Cleaveland, before the American Institute of Instruction, Boston, 1830, published in the Institute's annual volume; also lecture "On the Usefulness of Lyceums," by S. C. Phillips, before the same, 1S31. The importance of the Lyceum in the improvement and development of popular education in New England can hardly be over- estimated. The Massachusetts State Board of Education was created in 1S37; but the pam- phlet of 1S29, reprinted in the present leaflet, shows that the promoters of the Lyceum move- ment from the first looked to the development of State Boards of Education from their movement. The movement was coincident with the great educational work in Massachu- setts of James Gordon Carter and Horace Mann. See Carter's Account of the Schools of Massachusetts in 1S24, in Old South Leaflet No. 135. PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 312 ODID c^outl) leaflets No. 140. Samuel Hoar's Expulsion from Charleston. A Reprint of Senate Document No. 4, Commonwealth OF Massachusetts, 1845. Message. To the House of Representatives. In March, 1843, the Legislature of this Commonwealth passed resolves authorizing the Governor, with the advice and con- sent of the Council, to appoint agents in the city of Charles- ton, in the State of South Carolina, and New Orleans, in the State of Louisiana, to collect and transmit accurate information as to the number and names of citizens of Massachusetts who may have been imprisoned in either of those cities without the allegation of any crime ; and those resolutions authorized the agent to bring one or more suits in behalf of persons thus im- prisoned, at the expense of the Commonwealth. Under those Resolves, my predecessor appointed two per- sons successively in the city of New Orleans, and one in the city of Charleston, all of whom declined serving as agents un- der their appointments. In March, 1844, an additional resolve was passed, authoriz- ing the appointment of agents to reside in the cities above named for the purpose of carrying out the object of the first named Resolves. After the adjournment of the Legislature, an agent living in each of those cities was appointed, and com- missions were sent them. They both declined the trust. In compliance with what was deemed to be the intention and di- rection of the Legislature, that agents should be appointed, I 1>^Z nominated the Hon. Samuel Hoar, of Concord, to the agency in South Carolina, and the Hon. Henry Hubbard, of Pittstield, to the agency in Louisiana. Their nominations having been con- firmed by the Council, they were appointed and commissioned accordingly. In November Mr. Hoar left the Commonwealth and pro- ceeded to Charleston in the discharge of the duties of his agency. On reaching Charleston he addressed a note to the Governor of the State, in respectful terms informing him of his appointment, and the nature of the duties he had to perform. How this agent of the Commonwealth was regarded and treated by the authorities of South Carolina will be shown by the official proceedings of her Legislature, embodied in a re- port and a series of Resolutions, which I have since received from the Governor of the State, and which I herewith trans- mit to you. I also communicate to you a report from Mr. Hoar, giving an account of his attempt to execute the trust committed to him, and of his treatment by the citizens of Charleston. In the second section of an act of the Legislature of South Carolina, passed on the 29th day of December, 1S35, ^^ i^ S'"*" acted " That it shall not be lawful for any free negro, or per- son of color, to come into this State, on board any vessel, as a cook, steward or mariner, or m any other employment, on board such vessel ; and in case any vessel shall arrive in any port or harbor of this State, from any other State or foreign port, having on board any free negro or person of color, em- ployed on board such vessel as a cook, steward or mariner, or in any other employment, it shall be the duty of the sheriff of the district, in which such port or harbor is situated, immedi- ately on the arrival of such vessel, to apprehend such free ne- gro or person of color, so arriving contrary to this act, and to confine him or her closely in jail, until such vessel shall be hauled off from the wharf, and ready to proceed to sea. And that when said vessel is ready to sail, the captain of the said vessel shall be bound to carry away the said free negro, or per- son of color, and to pay the expenses of his or her commit- ment." LTnder this extraordinary law many of our colored citizens, who have entered the port of Charleston, on board our ves- sels, in the pursuit of a lawful commerce, and complying with all the provisions of the laws of the LTnited States, regulating 314 commerce among the States, have been from time to time seized by the officers of that State, taken from their ships and confined in the pubUc prisons until their vessels were ready to depart, when they were compelled to pay the expense of their detention. The color of their skin was the only olifence which subjected those citizens to a felon's treatment. The Legislature and people of Massachusetts believe that law of South Carolina to be in direct and palpable violation of that clause of the Constitution of the United States which de- clares that "the citizens of each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens of the several States, " and also of that part of the Constitution which confers upon Congress the power " to regulate commerce with foreign na- tions, among the several States, and with the Indian tribes." With a view to prevent the repetition of these wrongs upon her own citizens, under what she considered the harsh and uncon- stitutional law of a sister State, Massachusetts wished, in the manner pointed out in the Resolves of her Legislature, and which she considered perfectly respectful to that sister State, to bring the question of the constitutionality of that law before the Supreme Court of the United States, the appointed tribunal of this Union to settle questions of this kind. The late William Wirt, when he was Attorney General of the United States, was called upon by the Secretary of State for his opinion of a law of the State of South Carolina, which in principle and in its essential features was the same as the present law. In that opinion he said, " // seems very clear to me that this sectiofi of the law of South Carolina is incompatible with the national Constitution, and the laws passed under it, and is therefore voidy A subject of the British government was imprisoned in Charleston, under this law of South Carolina, and his case was brought before the late learned and distinguished William Johnson, a Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, for his adjudication and decision. Judge Johnson was then a citizen of South Carolina, and a resident of Charleston. He was familiar with this remarkable law, the circumstances under which it was passed, and the reason urged in its favor by its supporters. No one could charge him, any more than they could Mr. Wirt, with hostility to the domestic institutions of the State. In a very able and elaborate opinion pronounced in that 315 case, he said, " but it is not necessary to give this candid ex- pose of the grounds which this law assumes ; for it is a subject of positive proof that it is altogether irreconcilable with the powers of the general government ; that it necessarily compro- mits the public peace, and tends to embroil us with, if not sep- arate us from, our sister States ; in short that it leads to a dis- solution of the Union, and implies a direct attack upon the sovereignty of the United States." And farther he says, " Upon the whole I am decidedly of opinion that the third sec- tion of the State Act, now under consideration, is unconstitu- tional and void, and that every arrest made under it subjects the parties making it to an action of trespass." Under a law thus characterized by these eminent jurists the citizens of Massachusetts have been imprisoned in the jails of South Carolina. To prevent a continuance of this injustice to her unoffending and peaceful citizens, she sought by the means pointed out in the Resolves above referred to, to aid them to bring their case before the common judicial tribunal of the Union for its decision. For pursuing this course, every step of which has been friendly, constitutional, and respectful to the State of South Carolina and her authorities, the Legislature of that State has seen fit to denounce her in no measured terms, and to ascribe to her motives entirely foreign from the real and avowed ones under which she acted, and to say that " our agent came there, not as a citizen of the United States, but as the emissary of a foreign government, hostile to their domestic institutions, and with the sole purpose of subverting their in- ternal police," and then proceed to pass resolutions expelling that agent from their State. There is nothing in any part of the proceedings of Massachusetts that can be tortured into the evidence of any such purpose as is unjustly ascribed to them, and the conduct, the private and public character of that agent, who was compelled to leave the State by the demonstra- tion of popular violence in the city of Charleston, was a pledge that he was incapable of interfering with the domestic institu- tions of another State. The conduct of Mr. Hoar under the circumstances seems to me to have been marked by that pru- dence, firmness, and wisdom which have distinguished his character through his life. Who can fail to perceive that this course of South Carolina to sustain and enforce such a law, directly leads to what her own eminent jurist, with judicial and prophetic wisdom, declared would be its consequences ? v6 5 In a report made by a committee of the House of Represen- tatives of the United States upon this subject some two or three years since, the committee say, "It seems to be understood that the appHcation of these laws to foreign vessels has of late years been suspended." If this is the case, what reason can be assigned for this discrimination between the vessels of sister States coming into their ports under the laws of Congress reg- ulating commerce among the States, and foreign vessels com- ing into the same ports under the laws regulating commerce with foreign nations ? Can it be doubted that, if the authorized Agent of a foreign government, sent to Charleston to procure the liberation, by peaceful and legal means, of a subject im- prisoned under this law of South Carolina, had received such treatment as the agent of Massachusetts met with, that gov- ernment would have been justified by the usages of nations in sending a ship of war to seek redress, by battering down the walls of the prison that held their injured subject ? In the report adopted by her Legislature it is said that South Caro- Hna, by entering into the Union, "yielded the right to keep troops, or ships of war, in time of peace, without the consent of Congress." Did it not occur to the Legislature of that State, during the progress of those extraordinary proceedings, that their sister States had also "yielded their right to keep troops and ships of war in time of peace," and that their hands were tied, by their obligations to that Union, from pursuing that course to obtain redress for indignities offered to themselves, and wrongs done to their citizens, which is open to all foreign States and Nations ? Such a reflection would seem naturally to suggest itself to the people of a brave and high-minded State. What course it becomes Massachusetts to pursue under the circumstances of this case will be for her Legislature to decide. I have no doubt she will with firmness and dignity maintain all her constitutional rights ; and whilst she holds herself bound to respect the rights of her sister States, and to discharge towards them and the Union all her obligations, she will claim from them the fulfilment of all their obligations to her. In the unyielding pursuit of these objects, I am sure she will do nothing unworthy of herself or derogatory to the character of the Confederacy of which she is a member. The papers from South Carolina and the letter of Mr. Hoar being transmitted in the original, I respectfully request that 317 they, together with this Message, may be communicated by the honorable House to the other branch of the Legislature. GEORGE N. BRIGGS. Council Chamber, Jamiary 6tk, 1845. I. STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA. Governor's Message No. III. Executive Department, \ Columbia, 30th November, 1S44. ) Gentletneii of the Senate and House oj Representatives : The accompanying communication was received by the last mail, and I deem it proper that it should be laid before you for your information. It will be seen that the State of Massachu- setts has appointed a Special Agent to reside in this State, for the purpose of contesting, by a series of law suits, a long stand- ing law of a peculiar character, which is deemed of vital im- portance to the security of our property and the peace of our citizens. She has also appropriated a fund for the purpose of defraying the expenses of the litigation. These facts I gather only from the communication of her Agent, which is transmitted to you, I have received no notification from the Authorities of the State. It is for you to determine whether any and what measures should be taken to maintain the police regulations of this State within her limits. J. H. HAMMOND. Charleston, 2Sth Nov. 1844. Sir : — Your Excellency is already informed of remonstrances made by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts against the ar- rest and imprisonment of her citizens in South Carolina, against whom the commission of no crime is alleged. The Legisla- ture of, Massachusetts has recently passed a Resolve, authoriz- ing the Governor of that State to appoint an agent " for the purpose of collecting and transmitting accurate information respecting the number and the names of citizens of Massachu- setts who have heretofore been, or may be, during the period of the engagement of the agent, imprisoned without the alle- gation of any crime." The agent is also authorized to bring and prosecute one or more suits in behalf of any citizen that 318 7 may be so imprisoned, at the expense of Massachusetts, for the purpose of having the legality of such imprisonment tried and determined in the Supreme Court of the United States. The Governor of Massachusetts has appointed me agent of that State, to execute the purposes above mentioned ; and I ar- rived in this city this morning for that purpose. I do not know that your Excellency will consider it proper in any way to notice this subject, yet propriety seemed to require the com- munication. With great respect, your Excellency's ob. St., SAMUEL HOAR. To His Excellency, J. H. Hammond, Gov, of South Carohna. In the House of Representatives, Dec. 5, 1844. Mr. De Saussure, from the Committee on Federal Relations, to whom was referred Message No. 3 of His Excellency the Governor, and the Communication of Samuel Hoar, submitted the following Report, which was read, and ordered to be con- sidered immediately : The Committee on Federal Relations, to whom was referred the Communication of His Excellency the Governor, transmit- ting a letter addressed to him by Samuel Hoar, an agent of the State of Massachusetts for certain purposes, submit the follow- ing Report : By an act passed on the 19th day of December, 1835, the General Assembly endeavored to guard against the introduc- tion of free negroes and persons of color into this State, upon principles of public policy, affecting her safety and her most vital interests. The right of excluding from their territories conspirators against the public peace, and disaffected persons whose presence may be dangerous to their safety, is essential to every government. It is everywhere exercised by indepen- dent States, and there is nothing in the Constitution of the United States which forbids to South Carolina the right, or re- lieves this Legislature from the duty, of providing for the pub- lic safety. Massachusetts has seen fit to contest this right, and has sent an agent to reside in the midst of us, whose avowed object is to defeat a police regulation essential to our peace. This agent 319 comes here, not as a citizen of the United States, but as the emissary of a Foreign Government, hostile to our domestic in- stitutions, and with the sole purpose of subverting our internal police. We should be insensible to every dictate of prudence if we consented to the residence of such a missionary, or shut our eyes to the consequences of his interference with our do- mestic concerns. The Union of these States was formed for the purpose, among other things, of ensuring domestic tranquillity, and pro- viding for the common defence, and in consideration thereof this State yielded the right to keep troops or ships of war, in time of peace, without the consent of Congress ; but, while thus •consenting to be disarmed, she has, in no part of the constitu- tional compact, surrendered her right of internal government and police, and, on the contrary thereof, has expressly re- served all powers not delegated to the United States, nor prohibited by it to the States. The State of Massachusetts denominates as citizens those persons for whose protection her tender solicitude has devised this extraordinary mission. Yet, if it were admitted that they are citizens of that State, your Committee cannot suppose that '.she will challenge for them greater rights, immunities, and priv- ileges, within our territories, than are enjoyed by persons of the same class in South Carolina. But your Committee deny that they are citizens, within the meaning of the Constitution ; nor did Massachusetts herself treat as citizens persons of this class residing within her limits, either at the adoption of the Constitution or since, but, on the contrary, they were sub- jected to various disabilities, from which her other inhabitants were exempt. Your Committee cannot but regard this extraordinary move- ment as part of a deliberate and concerted scheme to subvert the domestic institutions of the Southern States, in plain viola- tion of the terms of the national compact, and of the good faith M'hich ought to subsist between the parties thereto, and to which they stand solemnly pledged. Your Committee recommend the adoption of the following Resolutions : Resolved, That the right to exclude from their territories se- ditious persons or others whose presence may be dangerous to their peace is essential to every independent State. Resolved, That free negroes and persons of color are not cit- 320 izens of the United State within the meaning of the Constitu- tion,- which confers upon the citizens of one State the privileges and immunities of citizens in the several States. Resolved, That the emissary sent by the State of Massachu- setts to the State of South Carolina, with the avowed purpose of interfering with her institutions and disturbing her peace, is to be regarded in the character he has assumed, and to be treated accordingly. Resolved, That His Excellency the Governor be requested to expel from our territory the said agent after due notice to depart; and that the Legislature will sustain the Executive authority in any measures it may adopt for the purpose afore- said. Resolved, That the Governor be requested to transmit forth- with to the Governors of the several States and Territories a copy of his Message, No. 3, to this Legislature, communicating the letter of Samuel Hoar, Agent from the State of Massachu- setts, and also a copy of the Report and Resolutions of the Committee on Federal Relations of the House thereon, which has been agreed to by both branches of the Legislature. I hereby certify that the above Resolution was agreed to in the Senate and concurred in by the House of Representatives. THOMAS W. GLOVER, Clerk H. R. House of Representatives, Dec. 6, 1844. Exeaitive Depai'ttnent, \ Columbia, South Carolina, Dec. 6, 1844. \ Sir: — I have been requested by the Legislature of this State to transmit you the above Message, and Report and Resolu- tions. I have the honor to be, Very respectfully, your ob't serv't, J. H. HAMMOND. His Excellency Thos. N. Briggs. 321 10 II. Sir, — I transmit to you, to be presented to the Governor of the Commonwealth, the following account of my proceedings in my agency in Charleston, S.C., under the Resolves of the Legislature of Massachusetts, of March 24th, 1843, and March 1 6th, 1844. I arrived in Charleston about six o'clock on the morning of the 28th of November. In the course of the forenoon of the same day, in pursuance of instructions from His Excellency the Governor, I addressed a letter to the Governor of South Car- olina of which the following is a copy : — [see letter on pp. 6-~.'\ On the next morning, which was Friday, I called on Mr. Eggleston, the gentleman who had received before me an ap- pointment to this agency by the Governor of Massachusetts, and requested him to introduce me to the Mayor of the city of Charleston. This I did for the purpose of procuring access to the records of orders on sentences to imprisonment of our colored seamen, or other citizens. Mr. Eggleston readily ac- ceded to my request, but observed that, in his opinion, it would be best that he should first see the Mayor and explain to him my purposes, before I should go to his office to be introduced to him. To this I assented, and he left me in his office to await his return. He was absent a considerable time, and on his return he informed me that the Mayor was at Columbia, where the Legislature was in session ; that he had been con- versing with the gentleman who temporarily discharged the duties of Mayor, and that they both concluded it would be best for me to await the return of the Mayor before attempting to do anything relating to the business on which I was sent. I accordingly passed the remainder of the time, the Mayor not having returned, awaiting his arrival, till Monday afternoon, without meeting any occurrence worth relating. On the afternoon of Monday I was informed that Governor Hammond had communicated my letter to the Legislature at Columbia, and that it had raised a great commotion. After conversing some time on the subject, I walked out from my lodgings some distance, and on returning at dark I met at the hotel where I lodged three gentlemen, standing in the piazza near the door. As soon as I ascended the steps, one of them stepped forward and said, " Is your name Hoar, sir ? " I an- swered yes. He then said, " I am the sheriff of Charleston District, and I have some business with you, sir." This he 322 1 1 uttered with great warmth and earnestness. He then intro- duced to me one of the other gentlemen as the acting Mayor of the city and one of the aldermen, and the other as another alderman. I invited them to walk up into a common sitting- room of the house. When seated, the sheriff inquired of me what my business was in Charleston. I answered that I had communicated my business to the Governor of South Carolina, and stated to him in substance what my business was. He then said, " It is sus- pected that you are an abolitionist, and have come here to ac- complish some of their measures." I hesitated a little, doubting whether it would be proper to say whether I was an abolition- ist or not, but soon concluded that I would endeavor to remove all pretence of that kind, and informed him that I was no abo- litionist, that I had been for many years a member of the col- onization society, between whom and the abolitionists there was not much harmony. He then said, '* Some suspect that this is all a hoax : you have sent no credentials." This was true. Not having any negotiations with the Governor, I had not thought it necessary to send to him a copy of my commis- sion. I answered that I had supposed the Governor would take my word for the facts I had stated to him, but that I had a commission from the Governor of Massachusetts, which I was willing to exhibit to any one who desired to see it. He desired to see it, and I went to my room, brought and delivered it to him. I am uncertain whether I offered to let him take a copy of it, or whether he first requested permission to take a copy, but I gave permission to have made a copy of the commission and of the Resolves of the Legislature on which it was founded. He then said, " It is considered a great insult on South Caro- lina by Massachusetts to send an agent here on such business. This city is highly incensed. You are in great danger, and you had better leave the city as soon as possible." I answered that I had been sent there by the Government of Massachusetts on lawful business, and that I could not leave the city until I had at least attempted to perform that business. He then pro- duced a letter, which he said he had received from the Atto- ney General of that State, and read to me a part of it, in which the writer urged the avoidance of a resort to lynching, saying that it would disgrace the city, and adding that he did not know on whom he could call with more propriety than on the sheriff to prevent this process. After reading this part of the 323 12 letter, he said it was unnecessary to read the rest ; that he should endeavor, at the hazard of his life, to defend me, but he added either that he doubted whether he could do it or that he did not think he could do it. He repeated several times, and with great earnestness, that the citizens regarded my mission as a great insult from Massachusetts ; that they were in a state of great excitement, and that, as a friend, he would advise me, as the only means of safety, to leave the city as soon as possi- ble. I gave him substantially the same answer as above stated, and after one of the aldermen had offered to give me a receipt for the papers if I desired it, which I told him was unnecessary, they left me, saying, the papers should be returned by nine o'clock the next morning. On Tuesday morning I waited at my lodgings until about ten o clock, and not hearing from the sheriff I walked out and soon met him on horseback, coming, as he said, to return my papers. After deUvering them to me, he repeated the remarks he had made on the preceding evening on the danger I incurred by remaining in the city. After stating in strong terms, and in an earnest manner, the excited state of the city, and my danger, he said. What do you expect ? You can never get a verdict, and, if you should, the Marshal would need all the troops of the United States to enforce the judgment. I answered that that was not my business ; that my business was, if I could, to procure a judgment. VVe then separated, and I returned soon to my lodgings. In the course of the forenoon four or five gentlemen called on me as friends, professing, and I have no doubt truly, to disap- prove of the threatened violence of the citizens, but confirming what the sheriff had told me respecting the commotion in the city. They informed me of the various plans in agitation for ridding the city of my presence. The mildest and most lenient measure which they mentioned was that I should be taken, carried on board one of the New York packets, and sent to New York. I told them that, if that was the manner in which I was to be disposed of, I should prefer being sent by the Wilmington boat and the land route by which I had come to the city, but that I could not voluntarily leave the city until I had performed the business on which I was sent. Their statements did not materially differ in anything else from those made by the sheriff. In the evening of the same day a gentleman, to whom I had 324 13 received a letter of introduction from a friend in Boston, called on me, and said that the sheriff had offered, if I would leave the city, that he would, to use his expression, agree a case, to be sub- mitted to the Circuit Court of the United States first, and then carried to the Supreme Court for final decision. I told him that I would do it ; that I had no desire to remain in the city after my business should be accomplished ; and the sheriff having be- fore informed me that he had then no citizen of Massachusetts in his custody, I observed that, if we could agree on a statement of facts, it would very much expedite my departure. I had procured in Boston a number of the names of colored seamen who had been taken out of Massachusetts vessels at Charleston, and there imprisoned under the law in question, in the name of either of two of whom I felt authorized to com- mence a suit. It was agreed between my informant and me that I should meet a number of gentlemen at the sheriff's office the next morning at nine o'clock, for the purpose of attempting to make this arrangement. At about nine o'clock the next morning, which was Wednesday, I accordingly went to the sheriff's office, but found neither the sheriff nor any other of the gentlemen mentioned there. I was informed by one of the sheriff's clerks that he had stepped out on some business, but would probably return in a few minutes. I waited probably half or three-quarters of an hour, and, he not returning, I was about to leave the office, and the clerk said that, if I would name an hour when I would be there, he would inform the sheriff, and he probably would then meet me. I named twelve o'clock, and at that time returned to the office, and there found the sheriff. On stating to him the arrangement which was made on the preceding evening, he said that the gentleman had represented correctly his proposal, but that on further reflection and consultation he must retract the offer ; that he might by that course thwart the purposes of the State ; and, besides, that he had not been long in oflice, and he did not know that there was any case which would properly present the question to be tried, but, however that might be, he could not execute the agreement. At this meeting he informed me that Governor Hammond had given some assurances at Co- lumbia, which removed all personal objections to me, but repeated in substance what he had before said of the insult by Massa- setts in sending any person there on such business, and their determination to rid themselves of me by some means. On leaving the sheriff's office, I was going to a house more dis- 325 14 tant from my lodgings than the office. When I had proceeded not more than one or two rods from the door, a man decently dressed and of middle age, with a cane or a club grasped firmly in his hand, came up to me and said, " Is your name Hoar ? " I answered yes. He then said, " You had better be travelling, and the sooner the better for you, I can tell you ; if you stay here until to-morrow morning, you will feel something you will not like, I'm thinking." He did not strike, nor offer to strike, but his manner was even more insolent than his language. I made no reply, but walked on to the place for which I had started. On my return by the office, a short time after, I did not see this man. A number of young men were assembled on the opposite corner of the street, by whom I passed without any molestation. About two or half-past two o'clock on the same day. Dr. Whitredge, to whom I had been introduced by a letter from a friend of his in Boston, with whom I had conversed several times, and who, when the excitement first commenced, had said he did not think the citizens would proceed to acts of vio- lence, called on me at my lodgings. This gentleman, not yet an old man, had been in the army during nearly the whole of the late war with England, and for some time after its close ; now, as I was informed, at the head of his profession as a phy- sician in the city, and sustaining as high and pure a character as any man in Charleston. I mention his character and stand- ing to show the ground of confidence in him. He requested me to go where we might be by ourselves, and seemed anxious lest we should be overheard. When by ourselves, I observed that he was much agitated. He once or twice attempted to speak, but failed, and averted his face from me. When he did speak, he said that he felt unutterable mortification in making the commvmication which he felt bound to make to me ; that a state of things actually existed which he had not thought possible in Charleston ; that he had been round in dif- ferent parts of the city, and had just then come from the city council ; that my danger was not only great, but imminent ; that the people were assembled and assembling in groups ; that nothing seemed wanting but some one to say, " Now is your time," to bring on the attack; that he thought it probable, should I start soon, that I might get safely out of the city. He informed me where I could procure a carriage, and go to his plantation about twenty miles from the city, where his family 326 15 then were, where he said I should be hospitably received, and where I might remain until I could fix on further measures. He said that the roads were muddy ; that I could not arrive at his house before dark ; and mentioned a tavern where he thought I might lodge in safety that night, and proceed on my journey in the morning. He added that, if I desired it, he would ac- company me. It occurred to me that my daughter, who had accompanied me, though in the same house, was fortunatelv lodged in a room quite remote from mine and in the vicinity of a number of women ; that no odium had been excited toward her, and that she probably would be as safe as the other women in the house. After a moment's reflection, I answered Dr. Whitredge that, if I should then leave the city, I could not afterward return to it ; that to return after thus leaving it would place me in a worse situation than was the present ; that I should not know where to go from his house, for, should I run away from duty, I should be ashamed to return to Massachu- setts ; that I must decline the acceptance of his kind offer, and that, whatever might happen, I must abide the event. He did not urge me to change my determination, but after a little more conversation left me. I expected the attack during the following night. One gen- tleman, unsolicited, assured me that he would make common cause, and take his chance with me. The night passed with- out any riotous proceeding about the house. I did not then know what prevented the outbreak, but afterward understood that it was by the spread of the information that the conductors of the affair had resolved on the milder measure of removing me to the boat. On Thursday I told a friend, with whom I often conversed, of the assault on me near the sheriff's office, and described to him, as well as I could, the person of the assailant. He told me he believed the assailant to be one of the sheriff's officers. About noon, on Thursday, three men, Mr. Rose, the president of one of the Charleston banks, Mr. Mazyck, and Mr. Magrath, the two last, lawyers in the city, called at my lodgings. I had not seen either of them before. They told me their names, and said they had come to see if they could induce me to leave the city. I answered them as I had before answered the sheriff and others who had made a similar proposal. They entered into an argument to convince me that, as the state of things then was in the city, I ought to depart from it. I answered 327 i6 them as well as I was able, stating the lawful nature of my business, and the necessity I was under of endeavoring to per- form it. After perhaps half an hour spent in conversation, Mr. Rose said that a number of gentlemen would call on me about two o'clock, and either conduct me or escort me to the boat. I am uncertain which expression he used. I told him I was well aware that fighting on my part would be foolish ; that I should attempt nothing of that kind, that I was too old to run. and that they would find me there to be disposed of as they should think proper. They said that I should have time to prepare for my departure, as the boat would not leave Charleston till about three o'clock. When they were about to leave the room, I told them I had a daughter with me. Mr. Rose answered, " It is that which creates or created our embar- rassment." They left me at about one o'clock. These men used no violent or harsh language. Their style and demeanor were gentlemanly. But they indicated that their purpose was determined. My daughter and I then prepared for our departure, and awaited the arrival of those who were to remove me till two o'clock, and till three o'clock, but no one came. I did not then know the reason of this, but learned before night that an accident had prevented the arrival of the boat at the usual hour. She did arrive and depart, however, before dark, but I heard nothing more that day from my morning visitors. In the evening of Thursday the sheriff called on me. I was sitting in a common parlor where there were several others, and, supposing that he had some special business with me, I arose to attend him to some more private apartment. On ob- serving this, he said, " I have no special business with you, I merely called to see you," or something of that kind. We then sat down and conversed a few minutes on some common sub- ject. He then said, " The city is now quiet, and I am going to leave it in the morning." I then related to him the occurrence at the door of his office. " Oh," said he, " an officer of mine witnessed the transaction, immediately informed me of it, and I went out." He probably might have gone out, but I did not see him. I inquired of the sheriff the name of the man who made the assault. He said it was not best to expose him, and declined giving me his name. He then left me, and I have not since seen him. On Friday, about noon, Dr. Whitredge called on me, and 32S 17 informed me that the keeper of the hotel where I lodged had presented to the city government a request that they would take measures to remove me from his house, to preserve it from the impending danger. He had never requested me to leave his house, nor in any way intimated to me such a desire. That he should not wish to have his house subjected to the management of a mob could be easily understood ; but why he should apply to the city government to remove me, without mentioning the subject to me, I do not know. This presented to me a subject of some difficulty. That I could not stay longer in that house was quite certain. I be- lieved that there were two gentlemen either of whom would receive me into his house, should I request it. But whether I ought to ask it, or even to accept the offer, if made, appeared to me by no means certain. Should I enter any private house to reside there, it would be in more danger than the hotel where I was ; and that it would expel all the females and children from the house, and subject the owner, should he remain there, to equal danger with myself, seemed to be necessary con- sequences. I had not settled this question with myself or determined what course I should pursue, when a waiter informed me that some gentlemen Avished to see me in the hall below, I went down into the hall, and found there Mr, Rose and his associates, surrounded by a considerable number of men in the hall, and an assembly about the door, in the piazza, and on the side of the street. There were a number of carriages, I know not how many, standing by the bouse. Mr. Rose announced the pur- pose for which he had come, to conduct me to the boat. On the preceding evening a gentleman informed me that a story was in circulation in the city, that I had consented to leave the city. I told him there was not the least foundation in truth for the report. He said he had so understood before, and had told his informant that he did not believe it. I told him that I should prevent any misunderstanding on that point. As soon as Mr. Rose had mentioned the purpose for which they had come, I mentioned the information I had received, and added that I should put that matter beyond doubt ; that I had given no such consent, and that, if I left the city, it would be because I must, not because I would. Mr. Rose answered, if this were so, there was a misunderstanding; that he had under- stood that for the sake of preservmg the peace of the city, or of 329 restoring the peace of the city, I am uncertain which, I had consented to leave it ; that he or that they had no power to order me away ; that all they could do was to point out to me, or warn me of, what would follow, should I not go. I then repeated to him with precision the language I used to him as stated above, viz. that I was well aware that fighting on my part would be foolish; that I should attempt nothing of that kind, that I was too old to run, and that they would therefore find me there, to be disposed of as they should think proper. This was the only language I had used from which such an in- ference could be drawn. He did not deny that I had stated the conversation correctly, nor did he say that I used any other expression which had led him to his conclusion, but said he did understand that I had consented to leave the city. As soon as he had done speaking or before, Mr. Eggleston, who had been appointed to this agency before me, and was standing between Mr. Rose and me, addressed me, saying I ought then to go ; that it was impossible for me to remain longer in the city; that I had done all that I could, with many more remarks of a similar purport. Mr. Chadwick, one of the gentlemen to whom I carried letters from Boston, followed Mr. Eggleston with remarks of similar import. It seemed then that there was but one question for me to settle, which was whether I should walk to a carriage or be dragged to it. Unless I disregarded the statements of friends as well as foes, and also the preparation which I then saw about me, this, I must conclude, was the only alternative. I could perceive no use to any State, cause, or person in choosing the latter, and I then, and for the first time, said that I would go. I stepped to the bar a few feet from me, settled a small bill for board which remained unpaid, one of the men present pointed out the carriage into which I was to enter, my daughter was called downstairs, we entered the carriage, and a moment after either the man who pointed out the carriage or some one else in the crowd, ordered the driver to drive on. We pro- ceeded to the boat without any tumult or further abuse. After arriving at the boat, a gentleman from Philadelphia who witnessed the transaction offered to point out to me a man, whose name he said was Vincent, and who, he said, he believed had some agency in the management of the line of boats between Charleston and Wilmington, whom he heard in the crowd announce himself as one who had offered himself as 19 a leader of a tar and feather gang to have been called into the service of the city on the occasion. I did not then, and do not now, suppose that the company who visited me on Thursday noon, or the assembly at the hotel on Friday, intended to employ tar and feathers, brickbats, clubs, or any other violence dangerous to lives or limbs. In- deed, nearly all danger of anything more than the indignity of the application of so much force as should be necessary to place me in the boat had passed, even when the managers of the affair had finally resolved on this mode of removing me. This, sir, I believe is as exact a narrative of the material facts in this case as I am able to give. In relating the several conversations which I had with different persons, I may not, and probably have not, always used their precise words. It would not have been easy to have recorded the transactions as they passed, and I have written this account since I returned to Massachusetts. I believe, however, that I have stated all the material facts substantially as they occurred. It would be improper for me in this report to make many remarks on the relation which now exists between the several States of the Union, especially between Massachusetts and South CaroUna, This report of facts, submitted for the use of his Excellency the Governor, would be an improper place for commentary. Besides, I may well be suspected of entertaining some feelings toward the latter State which, were there no other reason, would deprive remarks of mine of a claim to much regard. Some questions, however, of a grave character force them- selves on the mind. Has the Constitution of the United States the least practical vaUdity or binding force in South Carolina, excepting where she thinks its operation favorable to her ? She prohibits the trial of an action in the tribunals established under the Constitution for determining such cases, in which a citizen of Massachusetts complains that a citizen of South Carolina has done him an injury ; saying that she has herself already tried that cause, and decided against the plaintiff. She prohibits, not only by her mobs, but by her Legislature, the residence of a free white citizen of Massachusetts within the limits of South Carolina, whenever she thinks his presence there inconsistent with her policy. Are the other States of the Union to be regarded as the conquered Provinces of South Carolina ? 331 20 But I forbear. Those who are more competent than I am will consider these questions and others growing out of them, and, I trust, correctly decide them. Respectfully submitted, SAMUEL HOAR. December 20, 1844. John G. Palfrey, D.D., LL.D., Secretary of the Commonwealth. Samuel Hoar was born in Lincoln, Mass., in 1778. His father, both grandfathers, and two uncles were at Concord Bridge on the 19th of April, 1775, in the Lincoln Company. His father, Samuel Hoar, was a Revolutionary officer and served many years in the Massa- chusetts legislature. The son was graduated at Harvard in 1S02, was for two years a private tutor in Virginia, then studied law, and began practice in Concord, which was his home for the rest of his life : he died in 1856. He became one of the most eminent lawyers in the State. He was a member of the State Constitutional Convention in 1S20, three times a member of the State Senate, and in 1S35-37 a member of Congress. In 1844 he was sent by the legislature to South Carolina to test the constitutionality of acts of that State authorizing the imprisonment of free colored persons who entered it. The excitement which his appearance caused and his expulsion from Charleston constitute one of the most stirring chapters of the anti-slavery struggle. His own account of this and Governor Briggs's message concerning it, with other papers, are printed in the present leaflet. Charles Francis Adams was the chairman of the legislative committee which prepared the report on the matter; and that very able report is Senate Document 31, 1845. Samuel Hoar married a daughter of Roger Sherman ; and among their sons were Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar and George Frisbie Hoar. Tlie latter has written the best memoir of his father, in the Memorial Biographies of tlie New England Historic-Genealogi- cal Society, vol. iii. This contains a list of other biographical accounts and tributes from Governor Andrew, Charles Sumner, Winthrop, Lyman Beecher, and others. .Starr King said of him that " he lived all the beatitudes daily.'" " But," said .Senator Hoar, " the best memo- rial of Samuel Hoar will be found in the two sketches by Ralph Waldo Emerson, noble and faithful as faces of Vandyke." One of these was published in Pidnam's Monthly, Decem- ber, 1856 ; the other in the Monthly Religions Magazi?ie, January, 1857. Both appear in Emerson's " Lectures and Biographical Sketches." 1903. PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 332 <0lti :f^out1) itcaflcts No. 141. On National Literature. BY WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. Fh-st printed in the Christian Examiner, 1^30- By national literature we mean the expression of a nation's mind in writing. We mean the production among a people of important works in philosophy, and in the departments of imag- ination and taste. We mean the contributions of new truths to the stock of human knowledge. We mean the thoughts of profound and original minds, elaborated by the toil of composi- tion, and fixed and made immortal in books. We mean the manifestation of a nation's intellect in the only forms by which it can multiply itself at home, and send itself abroad. We mean that a nation shall take a place, by its authors, among the lights of the world. It will be seen that we include under literature all the writings of superior minds, be the subjects what they may. We are aware that the term is often confined to compositions which relate to human nature and human life ; that it is not generally extended to physical science ; that mind, not matter, is regarded as its main subject and sphere. But the worlds of matter and mind are too intimately connected to admit of exact partition. All the objects of human thought flow into one another. Moral and physical truths have many bonds and analogies, and, whilst the former are the chosen and noblest themes of literature, we are not anxious to divorce them from the latter, or to shut them up in a separate department. The expression of superior mind in writing we regard, then, as a nation's literature. We regard its gifted men, whether de- voted to the exact sciences, to mental and ethical philosophy, to history and legislation, or to fiction and poetry, as forming a 333 noble intellectual brotherhood ; and it is for the purpose of quickening all to join their labors for the public good that we offer the present plea in behalf of a national literature. To show the importance which we attach to the subject, we begin with some remarks on what we deem the distinction which a nation should most earnestly covet. We believe that more distinct apprehensions on this point are needed, and that, for want of them, the work of improvement is carried on with less energy, consistency, and wisdom, than may and should be brought to bear upon it. The great distinction of a country, then, is, that it produces superior men. Its natural advantages are not to be disdained. But they are of secondary importance. No matter what races of animals a country breeds, the great question is, Does it breed a noble race of men ? No matter what its soil may be, the great question is. How far is it prolific of moral and intellectual power .'' No matter how stern its climate is, if it nourish force of thought and virtuous purpose. These are the products by which a country is to be tried, and institutions have value only by the impulse which they give to the mind. It has sometimes been said that the noblest men grow where nothing else will grow. This we do not believe, for mind is not the creature of climate or soil. But were it true, we should say that it were better to live among rocks and sands than in the most genial and productive region on the face of the earth. As yet the great distinction of a nation on which we have in- sisted has been scarcely recognized. The idea of forming a superior race of men has entered little into schemes of policy. Invention and effort have been expended on matter much more than on mind. Lofty piles have been reared ; the earth has groaned under pyramids and palaces. The thought of building up a nobler order of intellect and character has hardly crossed the most adventurous statesman. We beg that we may not be misapprehended. We offer these remarks to correct what we deem a disproportioned attention to physical good, and not at all to condemn the expenditure of ingenuity and strength on the outward world. There is a harmony between all our great in- terests, between inward and outward improvements ; and by establishing among them a wise order all will be secured. We have no desire to shut up man in his own spiritual nature. The mind was made to act on matter, and it grows by expressing itself in material forms. We believe, too, that in proportion as 334 it shall gain intellectual and moral power it will exert itself with increased energy and delight on the outward creation ; will pour itself forth more freely in useful and ornamental arts ; will rear more magnificent structures, and will call forth new beauties in nature. An intelligent and resolute spirit in a com- munity perpetually extends its triumphs over matter. It can even subject to itself the most unpromising region. Holland, diked from the ocean, — Venice, rising amidst the waves, — and New England, bleak and rock-bound New England, converted by a few generations from a wilderness into smiling fields and opulent cities, — point us to the mind as the great source of physical good, and teach us that, in making the culture of man our highest end, we shall not retard, but advance the cultivation of nature. The question which we most solicitously ask about this country is, what race of men it is likely to produce. We con- sider its liberty of value only as far as it favors the growth of men. What is liberty ? The removal of restraint from human powers. Its benefit is that it opens new fields for action and a wider range for the mind. The only freedom worth pos- sessing is that which gives enlargement to a people's energy, intellect, and virtues. The savage makes his boast of freedom. But what is its worth ? Free as he is, he continues for ages in the same ignorance, leads the same comfortless life, sees the same untamed wilderness spread around him. He is indeed free from what he calls the yoke of civil institutions. But other and worse chains bind him. The very privation of civil govern- ment is in effect a chain ; for, by withholding protection from property, it virtually shackles the arm of industry, and forbids exertion for the melioration of his lot. Progress, the growth of power, is the end and boon of liberty ; and, without this, a people may have the name, but want the substance and spirit of freedom. We are the more earnest in enlarging on these views because we feel that our attachment to our country must be very much proportioned to what we deem its tendency to form a generous race of men. We pretend not to have thrown off national feel- ing ; but we have some stronger feelings. We love our country much, but mankind more. As men and Christians, our first- desire is to see the improvement of human nature. We desire to see the soul of man wiser, firmer, nobler, more conscious of its imperishable treasures, more beneficent and powerful, more 335 alive to its connection with God, more able to use pleasure and prosperity aright, and more victorious over poverty, adversity, and pain. In our survey of our own and other countries, the great question which comes to us is this. Where and under what institutions are men most likely to advance ? Where are the soundest minds and the purest hearts formed ? What nation possesses, in its history, its traditions, its government, its re- ligion, its manners, its pursuits, its relations to other communi- ties, and especially in its private and public means of education, the instruments and pledges of a more resolute virtue and devo- tion to truth than we now witness ? Such a nation, be it where it may, will engage our warmest interest. We love our country, but not blindly. In all nations we recognize one great family, and our chief wish for our native land is that it may take the first rank among the lights and benefactors of the human race. These views will explain the vast importance which we attach to a national literature. By this, as we have said, we under- stand the expression of a nation's mind in writing. It is the action of the most gifted understandings on the community. It throws into circulation through a wide sphere the most qviicken- ing and beautiful thoughts which have grown up in men of laborious study or creative genius. It is a much higher work than the communication of a gifted intellect in discourse. It is the mind giving to multitudes, whom no voice can reach, its compressed and selected thoughts in the most lucid order and attractive forms which it is capable of inventing. In other words, literature is the concentration of intellect for the purpose of spreading itself abroad and multiplying its energy. Such being the nature of literature, it is plainly among the most powerful methods of exalting the character of a nation, of forming a better race of men ; in truth, we apprehend that it may claim the first rank among the means of improvement. We know nothing so fitted to the advancement of society as to bring its higher minds to bear upon the multitude ; as to estab- lish close connections between the more or less gifted ; as to spread far and wide the light which springs up in meditative, profound, and sublime understandings. It is the ordinance of God, and one of his most benevolent laws-, that the human race should be carried forward by impulses which originate in a few minds, perhaps in an individual ; and in this way the most in- teresting relations and dependencies of life are framed. When a great truth is to be revealed, it does not flash at once on the 336 5 race, but dawns and brightens on a superior understanding, from which it is to emanate and to illuminate future ages. On the faithfulness of great minds to this awful function, the progress and happiness of men chiefly depend. The most illustrious benefactors of the race have been men who, having risen to great truths, have held them as a sacred trust for their kind and have borne witness to them amid general darkness, under scorn and persecution, perhaps in the face of death. Such men, indeed, have not always made contributions to liter- ature, for their condition has not allowed them to be authors ; but we owe the transmission, perpetuity, and immortal power of their new and high thoughts to kindred spirits, which have con- centrated and fixed them in books. The quickening influences of literature need not be urged on those who are familiar with the history of modern Europe, and who of course know the spring given to the human mind by the revival of ancient learning. Through their writings the great men of antiquity have exercised a sovereignty over these later ages not enjoyed in their own. It is more important to observe that the influence of literature is perpetually increasing; for, through the press and the spread of education, its sphere is in- definitely enlarged. Reading, once the privilege of a few, is now the occupation of multitudes, and is to become one of the chief gratifications of all. Books penetrate everywhere, and some of the works of genius find their way to obscure dwellings which, a little while ago, seemed barred against all intellectual light. Writing is now the mightiest instrument on earth. Through this the mind has acquired a kind of omnipresence. To literature we then look as the chief means of forming a better race of human beings. To superior minds, which may act through this, we look for the impulses by which their country is to be carried forward. We would teach them that they are the depositaries of the highest power on earth, and that on them the best hopes of society rest. We are aware that some may think that we are exalting in- tellectual above moral and reUgious influence. They may tell us that the teaching of moral and religious truth, not by philos- ophers and boasters of wisdom, but by the comparatively weak and foolish, is the great means of renovating the world. This truth we indeed regard as •' the power of God unto salvation." But let none imagine that its chosen temple is an uncultivated mind, and that it selects, as its chief organs, the Ups of the un- 337 learned. Religious and moral truth is indeed appointed to carry forward mankind, but not as conceived and expounded by narrow minds, not as darkened by the ignorant, not as de- based by the superstitious, not as subtilized by the visionary, not as thundered out by the intolerant fanatic, not as turned into a drivelling cant by the hypocrite. Like all other truths, it requires for its full reception and powerful communication a free and vigorous intellect. Indeed, its grandeur and infinite con- nections demand a more earnest and various use of our facul- ties than any other subject. As a single illustration of this remark, we may observe that all moral and religious truth may be reduced to one great and central thought, perfection of mind, a thought which comprehends all that is glorious in the divine nature, and which reveals to us the end and happiness of our own existence. This perfection has as yet only dawned on the most gifted human beings, and the great purpose of our present and future existence is to enlarge our conceptions of it without end, and to embody and make them manifest in character and life. And is this sublime thought to grow within us, to refine itself from error and impure mixture, to receive perpetual accessions of brightness from the study of God, man, and nature, and especially to be communicated powerfully to others, without the vigorous exertion of our intellectual nature ? Re- ligion has been wronged by nothing more than by being sepa- rated from intellect, than by being removed from the province of reason and free research into that of mystery and authority, of impulse and feeling. Hence it is that the prevalent forms or exhibitions of Christianity are comparatively inert, and that most which is written on the subject is of little or no worth. Christianity was given not to contradict and degrade the rational nature, but to call it forth, to enlarge its range and its powers. It admits of endless development. It is the last truth which should remain stationary. It ought to be so explored and so expressed as to take the highest place in a nation's literature, as to exalt and purify all other literature. From these remarks it will be seen that the efficacy which we have ascribed to literary or intellectual influence in the work of human improvement is consistent with the supreme importance of moral and religious truth. If we have succeeded in conveying the impressions which we have aimed to make, our readers are now prepared to inquire with interest into the condition and prospects of litera- 338 ture among ourselves. Do we possess, indeed, what may be called a national literature ? Have we produced eminent writers in the various departments of intellectual effort ? Are our chief resources of instruction and literary enjoyment fur- nished from ourselves ? We regret that the reply to these ques- tions is so obvious. The few standard works which we have produced, and which promise to live, can hardly, by any cour- tesy, be denominated a national literature. On this point, if marks and proofs of our real condition were needed, we should find them in the current apologies for our deficiencies. Our writers are accustomed to plead in our excuse our youth, the necessities of a newly settled country, and the direction of our best talents to practical life. Be the pleas sufficient or not, one thing they prove, and that is, our conciousness of having failed to make important contributions to the interests of the intellect. We have few names to place by the side of the great names in science and literature on the other side of the ocean. We want those hghts which make a country conspicuous at a distance. Let it not be said that European envy denies our just claims. In an age like this, when the literary world forms a great family, and the products of mind are circulated more rapidly than those of machinery, it is a nation's own fault if its name be not pronounced with honor beyond itself. We have ourselves heard, and delighted to hear, beyond the Alps, our country designated as the land of PYanklin. This name had scaled that mighty barrier, and made us known where our institutions and modes of life were hardly better understood than those of the natives of our forests. We are accustomed to console ourselves for the absence of a commanding literature by urging our superiority to other nations in our institutions for the diffusion of elementary knowl- edge through all classes of the community. We have here just cause for boasting, though perhaps less than we imagine. That there are gross deficiencies in our common schools, and that the amount of knowledge which they communicate, when compared with the time spent in its acquisition, is lamentably small, the community begin to feel. There is a crying need for a higher and more quickening kind of instruction than the laboring part of society have yet received, and we rejoice that the cry begins to be heard. But, allowing our elementary institutions to be ever so perfect, we confess that they do not satisfy us. We want something more. A dead level of intellect, 33^ even if it should rise above what is common in otlier nations, would not answer our wishes and hopes for our country. We want great minds to be formed among us, — minds which shall be felt afar, and through which we may act on the world. We want the human intellect to do its utmost here. We want this people to obtain a claim on the gratitude of the human race by adding strength to the foundation, and fulness and splendor to the development of moral and religious truth ; by originality of thought, by discoveries of science, and by contributions to the refining pleasures of taste and imagination. With these views, we do and must lament that, however we surpass other nations in providing for and spreading elementary instruction, we fall behind many in provision for the liberal training of the intellect, for forming great scholars, for com- municating that profound knowledge, and that thirst for higher truths, which can alone originate a commanding literature. The truth ought to be known. There is among us much super- ficial knowledge, but little severe, persevering research ; Uttle of that consuming passion for new truth which makes outward things worthless ; little resolute devotion to a high intellectual culture. There is nowhere a literar}^ atmosphere, or such an accumulation of literary influence, as determines the whole strength of the mind to its own enlargement, and to the mani- festation of itself in enduring forms. Few among us can be said to have followed out any great subject of thought patiently, laboriously, so as to know thoroughly what others have dis- covered and taught concerning it, and thus to occupy a ground from which new views may be gained. Of course, exceptions are to be found. This country has produced original and pro- found thinkers. We have named Franklin, and we may name Edwards, one of the greatest men of his age, though unhappily his mind w^as lost, in a great degree, to literature, and we fear to religion, by vassalage to a false theology. His work on the Will throws, indeed, no light on human nature, and, notwith- standing the nobleness of the subject, gives no great or elevated thoughts ; but, as a specimen of logical acuteness and contro- versial power, it certainly ranks in the very highest class of metaphysical writings. We might also name living authors who do honor to their country. Still, we may say we chiefly prize what has been done among us as a promise of higher and more extensive effort. Patriotism, as w^ell as virtue, forbids us to burn incense to national vanity. The truth should be 340 seen and felt. In an age of great intellectual activity, we rely chiefly for intellectual excitement and enjoyment on foreign minds ; nor is our own mind felt abroad. Whilst clamoring against dependence on European manufactures, we contentedly rely on Europe for the nobler and more important fabrics of the intellect. We boast of our political institutions, and receive our chief teachings, books, impressions, from the school of monarchy. True, we labor under disadvantages. But, if our libert}^ deserves the praise which it receives, it is more than a balance for these. We believe that it is. We believe that it does open to us an indefinite intellectual progress. Did we not so regard it, we should value it little. If hereditary govern- ments minister most to the growth of the mind, it were better to restore them than to cUng to a barren freedom. Let us not expose liberty to this reproach. Let us prove, by more gen- erous provisions for the diffusion of elementary knowledge, for the training of great minds, and for the joint culture of the moral and intellectual powers, that we are more and more instructed by freedom in the worth and greatness of human nature, and in the obligation of contributing to its strength and glory. We have spoken of the condition of our literature. We now proceed to the consideration of the causes which obstruct its advancement ; and we are immediately struck by one so preva- lent as to deserve distinct notice. We refer to the common doctrine that we need, in this country, useful knowledge rather than profound, extensive, and elegant literature, and that this last, if we covet it, may be imported from abroad in such variety and abundance as to save us the necessity of producing it among ourselves. How far are these opinions just ? This question we purpose to answer. That useful knowledge should receive our first and chief care we mean not to dispute. But in our views of utility we may differ from some who take this position. There are those who confine this term to the necessaries and comforts of life, and to the means of producing them. And is it true that we need no knowledge but that which clothes and feeds us ? Is it true that all studies may be dispensed with but such as teach us to act on matter, and to turn it to our use ? Happily, human nature is too stubborn to yield to this narrow utility. It is in- teresting to observe how the very mechanical arts, which are especially designed to minister to the necessities and comforts 341 10 of life, are perpetually passing these limits, — how they disdain to stop at mere convenience. A large and increasing propor- tion of mechanical labor is given to the gratification of an ele- gant taste. How simple would be the art of building, if it lim- ited itself to the construction of a comfortable shelter ! How many ships should we dismantle, and how many busy trades put to rest, were dress and furniture reduced to the standard of convenience ! This " utility " would work a great change in town and country, would level to the dust the wonders of archi- tecture, would annihilate the fine arts and blot out innumerable beauties which the hand of taste has spread over the face of the earth. Happily human nature is too strong for the ultilitarian. It cannot satisfy itself with the convenient. No passion unfolds itself sooner than the love of the ornamental. The savage dec- orates his person, and the child is more struck with the beauty than the uses of its raiment. So far from limiting ourselves to convenient food and raiment, we enjoy but little a repast which is not arranged with some degree of order and taste ; and a man who should consult comfort alone in his wardrobe would find himself an unwelcome guest in circles which he would very reluctantly forego. We are aware that the propensity to which wis have referred often breaks out in extravagance and ruinous luxury. We know that the love of ornament is often vitiated by vanity, and that, when so perverted, it impairs, sometimes destroys, the soundness and simplicity of the mind and the relish for true glory. Still it teaches, even in its excesses, that the idea of beauty is an indestructible principle of our nature, and this single truth is enough to put us on our guard against vulgar notions of utility. We have said that we prize, as highly as any, useful knowl- edge. But by this we mean knowledge which answers and ministers to our complex and various nature ; we mean that which is useful, not only to the animal man, but to the intellect- ual, moral, and religious man, — useful to a being of spiritual faculties, whose happiness is to be found in their free and har- monious exercise. We grant that there is primary necessity for that information and skill by which subsistence is earned and life is preserved ; for it is plain that we must live in order to act and improve. But life is the means ; action and im- provement the end ; and who will deny that the noblest utility belongs to that knowledge by which the chief purpose of our creation is accomplished ? According to these views, a people 342 1 1 should honor and cultivate, as unspeakably useful, that litera- ture which corresponds to and calls forth the highest faculties ; which expresses and communicates energy of thought, fruitful- ness of invention, force of moral purpose, a thirst for the true, and a delight in the beautiful. According to these views we attach special importance to those branches of literature which relate to human nature, and which give it a consciousness of its own powers. History has a noble use, for it shows us human beings in various and opposite conditions, in their strength and weakness, in their progress and relapses, and thus reveals the causes and means by which the happiness and virtue of the race may be enlarged. Poetry is useful, by touching deep springs in the human soul ; by giving voice to its more delicate feelings ; by breathing out and making more inteUigible the sympathy which subsists between the mind and the outward universe ; by creating beautiful forms of manifestations for great moral truths. Above all, that higher philosophy, which treats of the intellectual and moral constitution of man, of the foundation of knowledge, of duty, of perfection, of our relations to the spiritual world, and especially to God, — this has a useful- ness so peculiar as to throw other departments of knowledge into obscurity ; and a people among whom this does not find honor has little ground to boast of its superiority to uncivilized tribes. It will be seen from these remarks that utility with us has a broad meaning. In truth, we are slow to condemn as useless any researches or discoveries of original and strong minds, even when we discern in them no bearing on any inter- ests of mankind ; for all truth is of a prolific nature, and has connections not immediately perceived ; and it may be that what we call vain speculations may, at no distant period, link themselves with some new facts or theories, and guide a pro- found thinker to the most important results. The ancient mathematician, when absorbed in solitary thought, little imagined that his theorems, after the lapse of ages, were to be applied by the mind of Newton to the solution of the mysteries of the universe, and not only to guide the astronomer through the heavens, but the navigator through the pathless ocean. For ourselves, we incline to hope much from truths which are particularly decried as useless ; for the noblest and most useful truth is of an abstract or universal nature : and yet the abstract, though susceptible of infinite application, is generally, as we know, opposed to the practical. 343 12 We maintain that a people which has any serious purpose of taking a place among improved communities should studiously promote within itself every variety of intellectual exertion. It should resolve strenuously to be surpassed by none. It should feel that mind is the creative power through which all the re- sources of nature are to be turned to account, and by which a people is to spread its influence, and establish the noblest form of empire. It should train within itself men able to understand and to use whatever is thought and discovered over the whole earth. The whole mass of human knowledge should exist among a people not in neglected libraries, but in its higher minds. Among its most cherished institutions should be those which will ensure to it ripe scholars, explorers of ancient learn- ing, profound historians and mathematicians, intellectual la- borers devoted to physical and moral science, and to the cre- ation of a refined and beautiful literature. Let us not be misunderstood. We have no desire to rear in our country a race of pedants, of solemn triflers, of laborious commentators on the mysteries of a Greek accent or a rusty coin. We would have men explore antiquity, not to bury them- selves in its dust, but to learn its spirit and so to commune with its superior minds as to accumulate on the present age the influences of whatever was great and wise in former times. What we want is, that those among us whom God has gifted to comprehend whatever is now known, and to rise to new truths, may find aids and institutions to fit them for their high calling, and may become at once springs of a higher intellectual life to their own country, and joint workers with the great of all na- tions and times in carrying forward their race. We know that it will be said that foreign scholars, bred under institutions which this country cannot support, may do our intellectual work, and send us books and learning to meet our wants. To this we have much to answer. In the first place we reply that, to avail ourselves of the higher literature of other nations, we must place ourselves on a level with them. The products of foreign machinery we can use without any portion of the skill that produced them. But works of taste and genius, and profound investigations of philosophy, can only be estimated and enjoyed through a culture and power corresponding to that from which they sprung. In the next place we maintain that it is an immense gain to a people to have in its own bosom, among its own sons, men of 544 13 distinguished intellect. Such men give a spring and life to a community by their presence, their society, their fame ; and what deserves remark, such men are nowhere so felt as in a republic like our own ; for here the different classes of society flow together and act powerfully on each other, and a free com- munication, elsewhere unknown, is established between the gifted few and the many. It is one of the many good fruits of liberty that it increases the diffusiveness of intellect ; and ac- cordingly a free country is, above all others, false to itself in withholding from its superior minds the means of enlarge- ment. We next observe — and we think the observation important — that the facility with which we receive the literature of foreign countries, instead of being a reason for neglecting our own, is a strong motive for its cultivation. We mean not to be para- doxical, but we believe that it would be better to admit no books from abroad than to make them substitutes for our own intellectual activity. The more we receive from other coun- tries, the greater the need of an original literature. A people into whose minds the thoughts of foreigners are poured perpet- ually, needs an energy within itself to resist, to modify this mighty influence, and without it will inevitably sink under the worst bondage, will become intellectually tame and en- slaved. We have certainly no desire to complete our restrictive system by adding to it a literary non-intercourse law. We re- joice in the increasing intellectual connection between this country and the Old World ; but sooner would we rupture it than see our country sitting passively at the feet of foreign teachers. It were better to have no literature than form our- selves unresistingly on a foreign one. The true sovereigns of a country are those who determine its mind, its modes of think- ing, its tastes, its principles ; and we cannot consent to lodge this sovereignty in the hands of strangers. A country, like an individual, has dignity and power only in proportion as it is self-formed. There is a great stir to secure to ourselves the manufacturing of our own clothing. We say. Let others spin and weave for us, but let them not think for us. A people whose government and laws are nothing but the embodying of public opinion should jealously guard this opinion against for- eign dictation. We need a literature to counteract and to use wisely the literature which we import. We need an inward power proportionate to that which is exerted on us as the 345 14 means of self-subsistence. It is particularly true of a people whose institutions demand for their support a free and bold spirit that they should be able to subject to a manly and inde- pendent criticism whatever comes from abroad. These views seem to us to deserve serious attention. We are more and more a reading people. Books are already among the most powerful influences here. The question is, Shall Europe, through these, fashion us after its pleasure ? Shall America be only an echo of what is thought and written under the aristoc- racies beyond the ocean ? Another view of the subject is this. A foreign literature will always in a measure be foreign. It has sprung from the soul of another people, which, however like, is still not our own soul. Every people has much in its own character and feelings which can only be embodied by its own writers, and which, when transfused through literature, makes it touching and true, like the voice of our earliest friend. We now proceed to an argument in favor of native literature which, if less obvious, is, we believe, not less sound than those now already adduced. We have hitherto spoken of literature as the expression, the communication of the higher minds in a community. We now add that it does much more than is commonly supposed to form such minds, so that without it a people wants one of the chief means of educating or perfecting talent and genius. One of the great laws of our nature, and a law singularly important to social beings, is that the intellect enlarges and strengthens itself by expressing worthily its best views. In this as in other respects it is more blessed to give than to receive. Superior minds are formed, not merely by solitary thought, but almost as much by communication. Great thoughts are never fully possessed till he who has conceived them has given them fit utterance. One of the noblest and most invigorating labors of genius is to clothe its conceptions in clear and glorious forms, to give them existence in other souls. Thus literature creates, as well as manifests, intellect- ual power, and without it the highest minds will never be sum- moned to the most invigorating action. We doubt whether a man ever brings his faculties to bear with their whole force on a subject until he writes upon it for the instruction or gratification of others. To place it clearly before others, he feels the necessity of viewing it more vividly himself. By attempting to seize his thoughts and fix them in 346 15 an enduring form, he finds them vague and unsatisfactory to a degree whicla he did not suspect, and toils for a precision and harmony of views of which he had never before felt the need. He places his subject in new lights, — submits it to a search- ing analysis, compares and connects with it his various knowl- edge, seeks for it new illustrations and analogies, weighs ob- jections, and through these processes often arrives at higher truths than he at first aimed to illustrate. Dim conceptions grow bright. Glorious thoughts which had darted as meteors through the mind are arrested, and gradually shine with a sun- like splendor, with prolific energy on the intellect and heart. It is one of the chief distinctions of a great mind that it is prone to rush into twilight regions, and to catch faint glimmer- ings of distant and unbounded prospects ; and nothing perhaps aids it more to pierce the shadows which surround it than the labor to unfold to other minds the indistinct conceptions which have dawned on its own. Even where composition yields no such fruits, it is still a great intellectual help. It always favors comprehensive and systematical views. The laborious distri- bution of a great subject, so as to assign to each part or topic its just position and due proportion, is singularly fitted to give compass and persevering force of thought. If we confine ourselves simply to the consideration of style, we shall have reason to think that a people among whom this is neglected wants one important intellectual aid. In this great power is exerted, and by exertion increased. To the multitude, indeed, language seems so natural an instrument that to use it with clearness and energy seems no great effort. It is framed, they think, to the writer's hand, and so continually employed as to need little thought or skill. But in nothing is the crea- tive power of a gifted writer seen more than in his style. True, his words may be found in the dictionary. But there they lie disjointed and dead. What a wonderful life does he breathe into them by compacting them into his sentences ! Perhaps he uses no term which has not yet been hackneyed by ordinary writers; and yet with these vulgar materials what miracles does he achieve ! What a world of thought does he condense into a phrase ! By new combinations of common words what deli- cate hues or what a blaze of light does he pour over his sub- ject ! Power of style depends very little on the structure or copiousness of the language which the writer of genius employs, but chiefly, if not wholly, on his own mind. The words ar- 347 i6 ranged in his dictionary are no more fitted to depict his thoughts than the block of marble in the sculptor's shop to show forth the conceptions which are dawning in his mind. Both are inert materials. The power which pervades them comes from the soul; and the same creative energy is mani- fested in the production of a noble style as in extracting beau- tiful forms . from lifeless stone. How unfaithful, then, is a nation to its own intellect in which grace and force of style re- ceive no culture ! The remarks now made on the importance of literature as a means of educating talent and genius, we are aware, do not apply equally to all subjects or kinds of knowledge. In the exact or physical sciences a man may acquire much without composition, and may make discoveries without registering them. Even here, however, we believe that by a systematic development of his views in a luminous style, he will bring great aid to his own faculties as well as to others. It is on the vast subjects of morals and human nature that the mind espe- cially strengthens itself by elaborate composition ; and these, let it be remembered, form the staple of the highest literature. Moral truth, under which we include everything relating to mind and character, is of a refined and subtile as well as ele- vated nature, and requires the joint and full exercise of dis- crimination, invention, imagination, and sensibility, to give it effectual utterance. A writer who would make it visible and powerful must strive to join an austere logic to a fervent eloquence ; must place it in various lights ; must create for it interesting forms ; must wed it to beauty ; must illuminate it by similitudes and contrasts ; must show its correspondence with the outward world, perhaps must frame for it a vast ma- chinery of fiction. How invigorating are these efforts ! Yet it is only in writing, in elaborate composition, that they are deliberately called forth and sustained, and without literature they would almost cease. It may be said of many truths, that greater intellectual energy is required to express them with effect than to conceive them, so that a nation which does not encourage this expression impoverishes so far its own mind. Take, for example, Shakespeare's Hamlet. This is a development of a singularly interesting view of human nature. It shows us a mind to which life is a burden ; in which the powers of meditation and feeling are disproportioned to the active powers ; which sinks under its own weight, under the 348 17 consciousness of wanting energies commensurate with its vi- sions of good, with its sore trials, and with the solemn task which is laid upon it. To conceive clearly this form of human nature shows indeed the genius of "the writer. But what a new power is required to bring it out in such a drama as Shakespeare's ; to give it life and action ; to invent for it circumstances and sub- ordinate characters fitted to call it forth ; to give it tones of truth and nature ; to show the hues which it casts over all the objects of thought ! This intellectual energy we all perceive ; and this was not merely manifested in Shakespeare's work, but without such a work it would not have been awakened. His invention would have slumbered, had he not desired to give forth his mind in a visible and enduring form. Thus literature is the nurse of genius. Through this, genius learns its own strength, and continually accumulates it ; and of course, in a country without literature, genius, however liberally bestowed by the Creator, will languish, and will fail to fulfil its great duty of quickening the mass amidst which it lives. We come now to our last — and what we deem a weighty — argument in favor of a native literature. We desire and would cherish it, because we hope from it important aids to the cause of truth and human nature. We believe that a literature 'springing up in this new soil would bear new fruits, and, in some respects, more precious fruits than are elsewhere pro- duced. We know that our hopes may be set down to the ac- count of that national vanity which, with too much reason, is placed by foreigners among our besetting sins. But we speak from calm and deliberate conviction. We are inclined to be- lieve that, as a people, we occupy a position from which the great subjects of literature may be viewed more justly than from those which most other nations hold. Undoubtedly we labor under disadvantages. We want the literary apparatus of Europe, — her libraries, her universities, her learned institu- tions, her race of professed scholars, her spots consecrated by the memory of sages, and a thousand stirring associations which hover over ancient nurseries of learning. But the mind is not a local power. Its spring is within itself, and under the inspiration of liberal and high feeling it may attain and worthily express nobler truth than outward helps could reveal. The great distinction of our country is, that we enjoy some pecuUar advantages for understanding our own nature. Man is the great subject of literature, and juster and profounder 349 views of man may be expected here than elsewhere. In Eu- rope political and artificial distinctions have, more or less, triumphed over and obscured our common nature. In Europe we meet kings, nobles, priests, peasants. How much rarer is it to meet men; by which we mean human beings conscious of their own nature, and conscious of the utter worthlessness of all outward distinctions compared wath what is treasured up in their own souls. Man does not value himself as man. It is for his blood, his rank, or some artificial distinction, and not for the attributes of humanity, that he holds himself in respect. The institutions of the Old World all tend to throw obscurity over what we most need to know, and that is, the worth and claims of a human being. We know that great improvements in this respect are going on abroad. Still, the many are too often postponed to the few. The mass of men are regarded as instruments to work with, as materials to be shaped for the use of their superiors. . That consciousness of our own nature which contains, as a germ, all nobler thoughts, which teaches us at once self-respect and respect for others, and which binds us to God by filial sentiment and hope, — this has been re- pressed, kept down by establishments founded in force ; and literature, in all its departments, bears, we think, the traces of this inward degradation. We conceive that our position favors a juster and profounder estimate of human nature. We mean not to boast, but there are fewer obstructions to that moral con- sciousness, that consciousness of humanity, of which we have spoken. Man is not hidden from us by so many disguises as in the Old World. The essential equality of all human beings, founded on the possession of a spiritual, progressive, immortal nature, is, we hope, better understood ; and nothing more than this single conviction is needed to work the mightiest changes in every province of human life and of human thought. We have stated what seems to us our most important distinc- tion. But our position has other advantages. The mere cir- cumstance of its being a new one gives reason to hope for some new intellectual activity, some fresher views of nature and life. We are not borne down by the weight of antiquated institu- tions, time-hallowed abuses, and the remnants of feudal barba- rism. The absence of a religious establishment is an immense gain, as far as originality of mind is in question ; for an estab- lishment, however advantageous in other respects, is, by its nat- ure, hostile to discovery and progress. To keep the mind 350 19 where it is, to fasten the notions of one age on all future time, is its aim and proper business ; and if it happened, as has gen- erally been the case, to grow up in an age of strife and passion, when, as history demonstrates, the church was overrun with error, it cannot but perpetuate darkness and mental bondage. Among us, intellect, though far from being free, has broken some of the chains of other countries, and is more likely, we conceive, to propose to itself its legitimate object, truth, — ever- lasting and universal truth. We have no thought of speaking contemptuously of the liter- ature of the Old World. It is our daily nutriment. We feel our debt to be immense to the glorious company of pure and wise minds which in foreign lands have bequeathed us in writ- ing their choicest thoughts and holiest feelings. Still, we feel that all existing literature has been produced under influences which have necessarily mixed with it much error and corrup- tion ; and that the whole of it ought to pass, and must pass, under rigorous review. For example, we think that the history of the human race is to be rewritten. Men imbued with the prejudices which thrive under aristocracies and state religions cannot understand it. Past ages, with their great events and great men, are to undergo, we think, a new trial, and yield new results. It is plain that history is already viewed under new aspects, and we believe that the true principles for studying and writing it are to be unfolded here, at least as rapidly as in other countries. It seems to us that in literature an immense work is yet to be done. The most interesting questions to mankind are yet in debate. Great principles are yet to be settled in criticism, in morals, in politics ; and, above all, the true character of religion is to be rescued from the disguises and corruptions of ages. We want a reformation. We want a literature in which genius will pay supreme, if not undivided, homage to truth and virtue ; in which the childish admiration of what has been called greatness will give place to a wise moral judgment, which will breathe reverence for the mind and elevating thoughts of God. The part which this country is to bear in this great intellectual reform we presume not to predict. We feel, however, that, if true to itself, it will have the glory and happiness of giving new impulses to the human mind. This is our cherished 'hope. We should have no heart to encourage native literature, did we not hope that it would become instinct with a new spirit. We cannot admit the 351 20 thought that this country is to be only a repetition of the Old World. We delight to believe that God, in the fulness of time, has brought a new continent to light, in order that the human mind should move here with a new freedom, should frame new social institutions, should explore new paths and reap new harvests. We are accustomed to estimate nations by their cre- ative energies ; and we shall blush for our country if, in cir- cumstances so peculiar, original, and creative, it shall satisfy itself with a passive reception and mechanical reiteration of the thoughts of strangers. We have now completed our remarks on the importance of a native literature. The next great topic is the means of pro- ducing it. And here our limits forbid us to enlarge ; yet we cannot pass it over in silence. A primary and essential means of the improvement of our literature is, that, as a people, we should feel its value, should desire it, should demand it, should encourage it, and should give it a hearty welcome. It will come if called for ; and, under this conviction, we have now labored to create a want for it in the community. We say that we must call for it, by which we mean not merely that we must invite it by good wishes and kind words, but must make liberal provision for intellectual education. We must enlarge our literary institutions, secure more extensive and profound teach- ing, and furnish helps and resources to men of their superior talent for continued laborious research. As yet intellectual labor, devoted to a thorough investigation and a full develop- ment of great subjects, is almost unknown among us; and with- out it we shall certainly rear few lasting monuments of thought. We boast of our primary schools. We want universities worthy of the name, where a man of genius and literary zeal may pos- sess himself of all that is yet known, and may strengthen him- self by intercourse with kindred minds. We know it will be said that we cannot afford these. But it is not so. We are rich enough for ostentation, for intemperance, for luxury. We can lavish millions on fashion, on furniture, on dress, on our palaces, on our pleasures ; but we have nothing to spend for the mind. Where lies our poverty ? In the purse or in the soul ? We have spoken of improved institutions as essential to an improved literature. We beg, however, not to be misunder- stood, as if these were invested with a creating power, or would necessarily yield the results which we desire. They are the 352 21 means, not causes, of advancement. Literature depends on individual genius, and this, though fostered, cannot be created by outward helps. No human mechanism can produce original thought. After all the attempts to explain by education the varieties of intellect, we are compelled to believe that minds, like all the other products of nature, have original and inde- structible differences, that they are not exempted from that great and beautiful law which joins with strong resemblances as strong diversities ; and, of consequence, we believe that the men who are to be the lights of the world bring with them their commission and power from God. Still, whilst institutions cannot create, they may and do unfold genius ; and, for want of them, great minds often slumber or run to waste, whilst a still larger class, who want genius, but possess admirable powers, fail of that culture through which they might enjoy and approach their more gifted brethren. A people, as we have said, are to give aid to literature by founding wise and enlarged institutions. They may do much more. They may exert a nobler patronage. By cherishing in their own breasts the love of truth, virtue, and freedom, they may do much to nurse and kindle genius in its favored posses- sors. There is a constant reaction between a community and the great minds which spring up within it, and they form one another. In truth, great minds are developed more by the spirit and character of the people to which they belong than by all other causes. Thus a free spirit, a thirst for new and higher knowledge in a community, does infinitely more for literature than the most splendid benefactions under despotism. A nation under any powerful excitement becomes fruitful of talent. Among a people called to discuss great questions, to contend for great interests, to make great sacrifices for the public weal, we always find new and unsuspected energies of thought brought out. A mercenary, selfish, luxurious, sensual people, toiling only to secure the pleasures of sloth, will often communicate their own softness and baseness to the superior minds which dwell among them. In this impure atmosphere the celestial spark burns dim ; and well will it be if God's great gift of genius be not impiously prostituted to lust and crime. In conformity with the views now stated, we believe that literature is to be carried forward, here and elsewhere, chiefly by some new and powerful impulses communicated to society ; and it is a question naturally suggested by this discussion from 353 22 what impulse, principle, excitement, the highest action of the mind may now be expected. When we look back, we see that literature has been originated and modified by a variety of principles, — by patriotism and national feeling, by reverence for antiquity, by the spirit of innovation, by enthusiasm, by scepti- cism, by the passion for fame, by romantic love, and by political and religious convulsions. Now we do not expect from these causes any higher action of the mind than they have yet pro- duced. Perhaps most of them have spent their force. The very improvements of society seem to .forbid the manifestation of their former energy. For example, the patriotism of antiq- uity and the sexual love of chivalrous ages, which inspired so much of the old literature, are now seen to be feverish and vicious excesses of natural principles, and have gone, we trust, never to return. Are we asked, then, to what impulse or power we look for a higher literature than has yet existed ? We answer, To a new action or development of the religious principle. This remark will probably surprise not a few of our readers. It seems to us that the energy with which this principle is to act on the in- tellect is hardly suspected. Men identify religion with super- stition, with fanaticism, with the common forms of Christianity ; and seeing it arrayed against intellect, leagued with oppression, fettering inquiry, and incapable of being blended with the sacred dictates of reason and conscience, they see in its prog- ress only new encroachments on free and enlightened thinking. Still, man's relation to God is the great quickening truth, throw- ing all other truths into insignificance, and a truth which, how- ever obscured and paralyzed by the many errors which igno- rance and fraud have hitherto linked with it, has ever been a chief spring of human improvement. We look to it as the true life of the intellect. No man can be just to himself — can comprehend his own existence, can put forth all his powers with an heroic confidence, can deserve to be the guide and inspirer of other minds — till he has risen to communion with the Supreme Mind ; till he feels his filial connection with the Universal Parent ; till he regards himself as the recipient and minister of the Infinite Spirit ; till he feels his consecration to the ends which religion unfolds ; till he rises above human opinion, and is moved by a higher impulse than fame. From these remarks it will be seen that our chief hopes of an improved literature rest on our hopes of an improved rehgion. 354 23 From the prevalent theology which has come down to us from the dark ages, we hope nothing. It has done its best. All that can grow up under its sad shade has already been brought forth. It wraps the divine nature and human nature in impene- trable gloom. It overlays Christianity with technical, arbitrary dogmas. True faith is of another lineage. It comes from the same source with reason, conscience, and our best affections, and is in harmony with them all. True faith is essentially a moral conviction ; a confidence in the reality and immutable- ness of moral distinctions ; a confidence in disinterested virtue or in spiritual excellence as the supreme good ; a confidence in God as its fountain and Almighty Friend, and in Jesus as hav- ing lived and died to breathe it into the soul ; a confidence in its power, triumphs, and immortality ; a confidence through which outward changes, obstructions, disasters, sufi^erings, are overcome, or rather made instruments of perfection. Such a faith, unfolded freely and powerfully, must " work mightily " on the intellect as well as on practice. By revealing to us the su- preme purpose of the Creator, it places us, as it were, in the centre of the universe, from which the harmonies, true relations, and brightest aspect of things are discerned. It unites calm- ness and enthusiasm, and the concord of these seemingly hostile elements is essential to the full and healthy action of the crea- tive powers of the soul. It opens the eye to beauty and the heart to love. Literature, under this influence, will become more ingenuous and single-hearted ; will penetrate farther into the soul ; will find new interpretations of nature and life ; will breathe a martyr's love of truth, tempered with a never-failing charity ; and, whilst sympathizing with all human suffering, will still be pervaded by a helpful cheerfulness, and will often break forth in tones of irrepressible joy, responsive to that happiness which fills God's universe. We cjinnot close our remarks on the means of an improved literature without offering one suggestion. We earnestly recom- mend to our educated men a more extensive acquaintance with the intellectual labors of continental Europe. Our reading is confined too much to English books, and especially to the more recent pubUcations of Great Britain. In this we err. We ought to know the different modes of viewing and discussing great subjects in different nations. We should be able to compare the writings of the highest minds in a great variety of circum- stances. Nothing can favor more our own intellectual indepen- 355 24 dence and activity. Let English literature be ever so fruitful and profound, we should still impoverish ourselves by making it our sole nutriment. We fear, however, that at the present moment English books want much which we need. The intel- lect of that nation is turned now to what are called practical and useful subjects. Physical science goes forward ; and, what is very encouraging, it is spread with unexampled zeal through all classes of the community. Abuses of government, of the police, of the penal code, of charity, of poor-laws, and corn-laws, are laboriously explored. General education is improved. Science is applied to the arts with brilliant success. We see much good in progress. But we find little profound or fervid thinking expressed in the higher forms of literature. The noblest subjects of the intellect receive little attention. We see an almost total indifference to intellectual and moral science. In England there is a great want of philosophy, in the true sense of that word. If we examine her reviews, in which much of the intellectual power of the nation is expended, we meet perpetually a jargon of criticism, which shows a singular want of great and general principles in estimating works of art. We have no ethical work of any living English writer to be com- pared with that of Degerando, entitled " Du Perfectionnement Moral " ; and, although we have little respect for the rash gen- erahzations of the bold and eloquent Cousin, yet the interest which his nietaphysics awaken in Paris is, in our estimation, a better presage than the lethargy which prevails on such topics in England. In these remarks we have no desire to depreciate the literature of England, which, taken as a whole, we regard as the noblest monument of the human mind. We rejoice in our descent from England, and esteem our free access to her works of science and genius as among our high privileges. Nor do we feel as if her strength were spent. We see no wrinkles on her brow, no decrepitude in her step. At this moment she has authors, especially in poetry and fiction, whose names are "famiUar in our mouths as household words," and who can never perish but with her language. Still, we think that at present her intellect is laboring more for herself than for man- kind, and that our scholars, if they would improve our literature, should cultivate an intimacy not only with that of England, but of continental Europe. We have now finished our remarks on the importance and means of an improved literature among ourselves. Are we 356 25 asked what we hope in this particular ? We answer, Much. We see reasons for anticipating an increased and more efficient direction of talent to this object. But on these we cannot en- large. There is, however, one ground of expectation to which we will call a moment's attention. We apprehend that literature is to make progress through an important change in society, which civilization and good institutions are making more and more apparent. It seems to us that, through these causes, political life is less and less regarded as the only or chief sphere for superior minds, and that influence and honor are more and more accumulated in the hands of literary and thinking men. Of consequence, more and more of the intellect of communities is to be drawn to literature. The distinction between antiquity and the present times, in respect to the importance attached to political life, seems to us striking ; and it is not an accidental difference, but founded on permanent causes which are to oper- ate with increased power. In ancient times everything, abroad and at home threw men upon the public, and generated an in- tense thirst for political power. On the contrary, the improve- ment of later periods inclines men to give importance to litera- ture. For example, the instabiUty of the ancient republics, the unsettled relations of different classes of society, the power of demagogues and orators, the intensity of factions, the want of moral and religious restraints, the want of some regular organ for expressing the public mind, the want of precedents and pre- cise laws for the courts of justice, — these and other circum- stances gave to the ancient citizen a feeling as if revolutions and convulsions were inseparable from society, turned his mind with unremitting anxiety to pubUc affairs, and made a participa- tion of political power an important, if not an essential, means of personal safety. Again, the ancient citizen had no home, in our sense of the word. He lived in the market, the forum, the place of general resort, and of course his attention was very much engrossed by affairs of state. Again, religion, which now more than all things throws a man upon himself, was in ancient times a public concern, and turned men to political life. The religion of the heart and closet was unknown. The relation of the gods to particular states was their most prominent attribute ; and, to conciliate their favor to the community, the chief end of worship. Accordingly, religion consisted chiefly in public and national rites. In Rome the highest men in the state presided at the altar, and, adding to their other titles that of Supreme 357 26 Pontifif, performed the most solemn functions of the priesthood. Thus the whole strength of the religious principle was turned into political channels. The gods were thought to sustain no higher office than a political one, and of consequence this was esteemed the most glorious for men. Once more, in ancient times political rank was vastly more efficient, whether for good or for evil, than at present, and of consequence was the object of a more insatiable ambition. It was almost the only way of access to the multitude. The public man held a sway over opinion, over his country, perhaps over foreign states, now un- known. It is the influence of the press and of good institutions to reduce the importance of the man of office. In proportion as private individuals can act on the public mind ; in proportion as a people read, think, and have the means of expressing and enforcing their opinions ; in proportion as laws become fixed, known, and sanctioned by the moral sense of the community ; in proportion as the interest of the state, the principles of adminis- tration, and all public measures are subjected to free and familiar discussion, — government becomes a secondary influence. The power passes into the hands of those who think, write, and spread their minds far and wide. Accordingly, literature is to become more and more the instrument of swaying men, of doing good, of achieving fame. The contrast between ancient and modern times in the particulars now stated is too obvious to need illustration, and our great inference is equally clear. The vast improvements which in the course of ages have taken place in social order, in domestic life, in religion, in knowledge, all conspire to one result, all tend to introduce other and higher influences than political power, and to give to that form of in- tellectual effort which we call literature dominion over human affairs. Thus truth, we apprehend, is more and more felt ; and from its influence, joined with our peculiar condition and free institutions, we hope for our country the happiness and glory of a pure, deep, rich, beautiful, and ennobling literature. Turning to Channing as a man of letters, it is of prime im- portance that we get the appropriate point of view. Neglect- ing this, we may well find ourselves astonished at the estima- tion in which he was held in his lifetime as a literary character 35^ 27 and at his own literary self-consciousness. His purely literary output, or what was then considered so, was limited to three or four articles in the Christian Examiner, which were published between the years 1825 and 1830- I say "three or four," be- cause the two Napoleon articles were one article in two parts. In our own time for a distinguished clergyman to drop into lit- erature flutters nobody. He may drop to the depth of a short story or a novel, or into poetry, and we are not surprised. But Dr. Channing's Examiner articles were great events in Boston and beyond when they appeared. Dr. Furness tells us that he was surprised to find Dr. Channing making the Milton venture. In the Unitarian circle, after the first doubt of its propriety had subsided, it was probably thought superior to Macaulay's " Milton," which had appeared a year earlier in the Edinburgh Review. Something must be pardoned. Dr. Furness says, to the admiration of the small new sect for what was done by its own chief. More must be pardoned to the state of literature at that time in the United States. About 1830 Channing wrote certain elaborate " Remarks on National Lit- erature," which should go to the account of his literary achieve- ment. The article was written in the future tense. The writer was no laudator tem/oris acti. He calls no honored names ex- cept those strangely contrasted ones of Edwards and Franklin. A better illustration of the iuciis a nan lucendo it would be hard to find. And yet in 1S30 there were some brave beginnings of the century's literature which a less abstract method than Channing's would have interwoven with the texture of his prophetical discourse. That he was kin with AUston and Dana may have made him less than kind to them, but Bryant had already written his best pieces, " Thanatopsis " and " A Forest Hymn," still unexcelled ; Pierpont, some admirable things ; while, if Charles Brockden Brown's chamber of horrors did not invite him, Irving's " Sketch Book" should have done so, and Cooper's likeness to Scott should not have been sufficient to obscure the rugged strength of his own proper face. But, when Channing's articles appeared, there was no such " mob of gentlemen who write with ease " and write extremely well as we have now. Judged by purely literary standards, hundreds of these write better than Channing. But, " in the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," and it is not strange that under the general conditions that prevailed from 1825 to 1830 Channing's literary product earned for him the enthusiastic 359 28 admiration of his co-religionists and of man}' wlio were not joined to their a^Pmbly. — Chadwick. When Channing wrote his famous paper on National Literature in 1S30, we liad very little original American literature of importance. Dwight, Trumbull, and Barlow liad long before written their pretentious epics, Franklin had written, Charles Brockden Brown had publislied his stories, Marshall had written his Life of . Washington, and John Quincy Adams his Lectures on Rhetoric. The North American Review had been established in 1815, and two years later had published the youthful Bryant's " Thanatopsis." Irving and Cooper were doing their best work. This was the background. The great satisfaction as we read Channing's noble prophecy and plea is in seeing what has resulted from the out- burst of American genius which immediately followed. See the sections upon Channing's literary work in the lives of Channing by W. H. Channiug and Chadwick. For notice of Channing's influence upon Emerson, see the various lives of Emerson. See also Emerson's own tribute to Channing's intellectual influence, in his " Historic Notes of Life and Letter.s in New England." C 219 Sg-i'i PUBLISHED BY THE DIRECTORS OF THE OLD SOUTH WORK, Old South Meeting-house, Boston, Mass. 360 \. /4i^^y^ ^<^v^&x /^'i^i^y^ ^^-n^ ^ >* .^^ ^^^i^ %'&' "^^ /-^^'X /^'Ai^'^ .**\'i fc»»- ./"V, O^ 'o • » * .-I ./% »••, ^^^^ * o HECKMAN BINDERY INC. ^^ AUG 89 W^^ N. MANCHESTER, ^••ss^ INDIANA 46962