THE BENEFICIAL INFLUENCE OF |H 
 
 LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTIONS. *M 
 
 
 
 T H E 
 
 ANNUAL ORATION 
 
 13LFORE THE 
 
 ALUMNI OF JEFFERSON COLLEGE, 
 
 CANONSBURG, PA. 
 
 DELIVERED SEPTEMBER 23, 1835; 
 
 The evening before the Annual Commencement. 
 
 JAMES VBECH, A. M. 
 
 OF PITTSBURGH. 
 
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 II PITTSBURGH: *\ 
 
 MATTHEW MACLEAN, PRINTER. |< 
 
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THE BENEFICIAL INFLUENCE OF 
 LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 THE 
 
 ANNUAL ORATION 
 
 BEFOEE THE 
 
 ALUMNI OF JEFFERSON COLLEGE, 
 
 CANONSBURG, PA. 
 
 DELIVERED SEPTEMBER 23, 1835; 
 The evening before the Annual Commencement. 
 
 J BY 
 
 JAMES VEECH, A. M. 
 
 OF PITTSBURG 
 
 
 
 PITTSBURGH: 
 
 MATTHEW MACLEAN, PRINTER. 
 
 1835. 
 
Tie fu 
 
 Jefferson College, Pa., Sept. 23, 1835. 
 
 Extract from the Minutes of « The Alumni Association, <fyc? 
 
 "Resolved, That our most grateful acknowledgments are due to our 
 fellow Alumnus, James Veech, Esq., for his truly interesting and eloquent 
 Oration, to which we have this evening listened ; and that he be request- 
 ed to furnish a copy for publication." 
 
 Attest. M. Jacobs, Sec'y. 
 
ANNUAL ORATION. 
 
 My Fellow Alumni :~~ 
 
 The influence of time and place upon the mind is acknowledged and 
 felt by both the savage and the scholar. It forms one of the simplest and 
 most indissoluble ties between man and the material world around him. 
 It imparts to rocks and trees, to ivy-covered columns and grass-grown 
 paths, the functions of animated being. By the charm which it spreads, 
 the untutored Indian sees the manly form of his slaughtered chief rise from 
 the ashes of the extinguished council fire, and the man of refinement holds . 
 converse with absent friends as he gazes upon some relic, enters the man- 
 sion where they dwelt, or the hall where they were wont to exchange their 
 greetings. Its existence and its exercise are independent of the discoveries 
 of science and beyond the control of philosophic rules. It displays itself 
 in the communication of pleasure and of pain; and bears upon the soul with 
 its resistless tides of joys, or of sorrows, alike regardless whether sought or 
 shunned. And when its force is spent, — when the emotions which it raises 
 have subsided, it diffuses a benignant serenity over the whole man, like the 
 spray of a broken wave upon the rock against which it beat. 
 
 These reflections require no labored application to our present circum- 
 stances. Our wandering feet again tread the halls of our venerated alma 
 mater. Scenes and movements now arrest our attention which are key- 
 notes to a harmony of the most fondly cherished recollections. We have 
 gathered to our literary home, at this its festival season, not in the spirit 
 which incites to a pilgrimage to Mecca, nor yet like vEneas and his follow- 
 ers at the Court of Dido, to reveal an unexpected deliverance from the tem- 
 pest and wreck of worldly strife; but we have gathered, in the spirit of gen- 
 erous sons, to mingle our congratulations that that home still flourishes, and 
 to commune upon subjects which concern our lineage and our high born 
 destinies. 
 
 The stated time for the meetings of our association is well ordered. It is 
 the eve of an anniversary which commemorates an important epoch in our 
 lives. The interesting exercises we have already witnessed, and which we 
 expect to witness on to-morrow, recall the day which separated us from the 
 objects and pursuits which now pass in review before us. It was a day 
 towards which we had long looked with anxiety and with eagerness. And 
 yet when it came it required a sacrifice which cost us some pain. Tender 
 ties were to be sundered never to be re-united. Perhaps we may all truly 
 say — " Some natural tears we dropt," — but, if we did, we 
 
 wiped them soon;- 
 
 " The world was all before us, where to choose 
 " Our place of rest, and Providence our guide;" 
 
 And when the restraints, under which we had become impatient, were re- 
 moved, we bounded forth under the impulse of high hopes and glowing an- 
 ticipations. The world was then to us a terra incognita. Our imaginations 
 
4 
 
 had robed it in classic beauty. Beyond the horizon, which bounded our 
 view, we fancied Arcadian groves and Elysian fields, with no dragons to 
 alarm nor giants to destroy. We began our journey upon the highway 
 of life supposing that it passed through fruitful vales, and that bowers of 
 ease and honor bordered its gratefully winding course to the temple of Fame. 
 Our first few steps were light and fleet. They were guided by that spirit of 
 poetry which is the ascendant star in the morning of life, and which sheds 
 an illusive splendor over every scene* The songs of the syrens that played 
 around us allayed every rising doubt. We slept securely under the cover- 
 ings which their witcheries wove, — until some rude attack broke the charm; 
 —we awoke; — and saw that the prospect had " lost gay Fancy's sunny 
 tints, and was clouded o'er by Truth." We stood bewildered amid the cold 
 realities of existence, where 
 
 " The heart is chilled, — . 
 
 " While every pulse throbs at the memory 
 " Of that which has been." 
 
 Instead of meeting with that generosity of feeling and frankness of express 
 sion, with which alone we had here been familiar, and from which, in the 
 guilelessness of youth, we had framed the models of mankind, we soon 
 felt that we had to contend with selfish purposes, bursting from their con- 
 cealments only to ensnare and destroy. Separated from the friends whose 
 counsel and confidence we here shared, we sought relief from those who 
 stood around wearing the outward ceremonials of friendship. But we, toe* 
 often, found their souls as impenetrable as the middle plate of Achilles* 
 shield, and perhaps for the same reason — because gold interposed. In our 
 despair we grasped the phantoms of our youthful creations, which haunted 
 the ruins of our hopes;— they vanished; — and at last we found ourselves 
 obliged, through much toil and many goading disappointments, to reach the 
 goals of our ambition, or ingloriously relinquish the prizes of the contest. 
 
 Having escaped from the arena of worldly commotion, and shaken off the 
 dust — " pulverem Olympicum" — which is there thrown upon us-, it is pleas- 
 ing, in this calm retreat of the mind, by the mellow light which memory 
 sheds, to take a restrospective glance at the decayed pictures which our un- 
 taught fancies sketched. We live over again the most happy years of our 
 existence. The ardor of youth returns, and with it the innocent gaity and 
 friendly emulations of a college life. We sit in a light which throws an 
 obscurity over the bustling scenes through which we have passed; and with 
 a gust, which none but such as we can feel, we exclaim 
 
 « Hoc est 
 
 " Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui." 
 
 But, besides the familiar scenes and events which we have the pleasure 
 here to contemplate, we are happy also to meet with many once familiar 
 faces. We see around us, arrayed in the dignity of age and wisdom, those 
 venerable fathers, the guardians of this repository of learning and useful- 
 ness. We meet also some, perhaps a majority, of the honored professors 
 who guided us to the wells of science and truth, who rolled away the stones 
 from their mouths, and from whose ready hands we took the cups full of 
 instruction. They welcome us on our return, as cordially as they blessed 
 us at our departure; — and long may they live to instruct and bless the hun- 
 dreds of ingenuous youth, who will continue to crowd these halls. But 
 there are others of them whom we see not. Some have gone to engage in 
 
other useful labors. But there is one,* the beloved by all, the beloved of 
 heaven, who has " to the grave gone down," full of years, and full of the 
 honors which unostentatious wisdom and virtue bestow. He that speaks of 
 him need not be reminded of that first law of eulogy — " de mortuis nil nisi 
 bonum," — for none who knew him, can name him, but to praise. 
 
 Our absent classmates, — our companions along the paths of literature, 
 and fellow-laborers up the steeps of science, — where are they? — Many of 
 them are moving steadily and successfully along the ways of honor and 
 usefulness in our own and in foreign lands. But as many, alas! have sunk 
 •into the " oblivious pool of indolence," quenched their ambition, and en- 
 gulphed all the hopes of their friends and their country. Although they 
 may still survive, they are but as the masts of the sunken wreck, melan- 
 choly warnings to all who aspire after eminence, of the insufficiency of mere 
 academic acquirements to attain it. Others who sat out with us from these 
 peaceful shades, blooming with health, flushed with honors and buoyant 
 with expectation, have terminated their career of promise by a premature 
 arrival at " that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler re- 
 turns." — Ever green be their memories, as the grass upon their graves. 
 
 A train of reflections like these rises unbidden, but not unwelcome, out of 
 the reminiscences of departed days which are here called up from their long 
 slumber. They are tempting entertainments in which we could indulge 
 with pleasure, and not without profit, to an undefined extent. But we are 
 admonished to forbid their further intrusion, by other subjects which pre* 
 sent themselves and claim our dispassionate consideration. 
 
 From the thronging themes of thought, which the occasion introduces, it 
 is difficult to select any one of sufficient prominence to exclude all others. 
 I have sought one sufficiently comprehensive to embrace several topics of 
 secondary importance, and therefore ask your attention to the beneficial in- 
 Jluence of literary and scientific institutions. I have ventured into this ex- 
 panded field, not because of a presumed ability to traverse it and explore 
 its treasures, but because of its relations to the character and objects of our 
 association. 
 
 Corporate institutions for the promotion of literature and science were un- 
 known to the entire ancient world. Perhaps this fact, more than any other, 
 is a just ground for our admiration of the advances in learning made by a 
 few of the ancient nations. But it may also serve as a guide in our esti- 
 mates of how much higher would have been their attainments had they en- 
 joyed the advantages which such institutions confer. The gloomy abodes 
 of the priests of a degrading idolatry were the nurseries of the infant arts 
 in Egypt. A few, especially geometry, which was rendered necessary to 
 renew the land-marks effaced by the annual overflowings of the Nile, were 
 forced into the stature, but not the strength of manhood. In Greece they 
 were nurtured, like plants in a shade, in the halls and groves of her philoso- 
 phers. Rome, particularly in the wane of her imperial glory, had her schools; 
 but they were destitute of endowments, and were conducted by separate in- 
 structors, with but limited acquirements and little influence. The Romans 
 had gained a knowledge of the power of corporate bodies, but seem never to 
 
 * No alumnus of Jefferson College will require a Note to inform him that this inade. 
 quate tribute belongs to the memory of Samuel Miller, A. M., who, from the foundation 
 of the College, in 1802, until near his death, which occurred in 1832, filled the Profes- 
 sorship of Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, &c t , with an ability, punctuality and ur- 
 banity, which won for him the honor and love of every student. 
 
have conceived the idea of its applicability to any higher purpose than the 
 mechanic arts and the pursuits of gain. 
 
 It was reserved for modern times to institute, sustain and enjoy, the ben- 
 efits of public seminaries of learning. One of the grand causes, subordin- 
 ate to the revival of letters, which led to the gradual, but thorough, improve- 
 ment of civil society in the 15th and 16th centuries, was the municipal 
 corporations of Italy: And the erection of corporate bodies, for the cultiva- 
 tion of science and the arts, was but bringing a known moral power, derived 
 from government, to aid in the development of intellectual energies. Al- 
 though perhaps a few nominal Universities did exist on the continent of 
 Europe and in the isles of Great Britain, prior to the reformation, yet they 
 ill deserved the name. They were little else than nurseries of superstition, 
 well adapted by monkish assiduity for its growth, and for the attenuation of 
 the chimeras of the schools. We are justified in saying that the numerous 
 foundations of Universities, Colleges and Royal Academies in Europe, and 
 the general illumination which succeeded the removal of the heavy cloud 
 of feudal ignorance, were causes and consequences of each other. The 
 proud sons of those ruthless ravagers of all that was useful and great among 
 the ancient nations, set themselves vigorously to repair the ruin which in- 
 discriminating barbarism had wrought. Well endowed seminaries of learn- 
 ing very soon became incorporated with the very vitals of society, in almost 
 every nation where the feudal system prevailed. Aristotle and Homer rose 
 from the dust of ages to occupy that station in the public esteem which had 
 been awarded exclusively to Alaric the Goth, and Attila the Conqueror. 
 The human mind eveiy where stood erect and firm like a giant refreshed 
 by sleep. Galileo and Kepler and Leyden and Newton in the natural 
 field, and Boyle and Bacon and Sidney and Locke, in the moral, crown- 
 ed themselves with laurels which will never fade while the earth and stars 
 and governments and mind endure. 
 
 In our own highly favored country, corporate institutions for the acqui- 
 sition and advancement of literature and science are almost coeval with its 
 settlement by civilized communities. The pilgrims of Plymouth made the 
 establishment of a University, now the pride of New England, among the 
 objects of their earliest solicitude. Long before our glorious Revolution 
 had public seminaries of learning been founded upon the virgin soil of many 
 of the colonies. And wherever they have been instituted, and generously 
 sustained, they have been nurseries of the richest social benefits, and the 
 central sources of all those radiant streams of knowledge and benevolence 
 which now illumine and ennoble our continent from the Atlantic to the 
 Mississippi. 
 
 The College, whose titular honors we wear, was brought into being while 
 yet civilized society was young in this Western Country; and she has 
 " grown with its growth, and strengthened with its strength," until now her 
 numerous " jewels" shine on the pinnacles of professional and public life in 
 almost every State in the Union, and are diffusing the treasures of know- 
 ledge, and lighting up the dark haunts of barbarism and idolatry, on every 
 continent and in every clime. But long before this institution was incorpo- 
 rated, and even before our national independence was achieved,* this vil- 
 
 * This is strictly true. In the year 1781 a Latin School began to be taught in a log 
 cabin, in Canonsburg, by the afterwards illustrious Lawyer and Statesman of the West, 
 — James Ro3s, Esq., — under the patronage of an eminent Father in the Church, the 
 late Rev. Dr. John M'Millan. This was the first classical school West of the mountains. 
 
iage was honored in being the site of a school for the study of the ancient 
 languages. Heroic hexameters were here sung almost in the hearing of 
 the war whoop of the savage; and while civilization was trembling for its 
 existence, the devoted student would soothe his fears with 
 
 M Tityre tu patulse recubans sub tegmine fagi." 
 
 Added to the testimony of history, in favor of the salutary influence of 
 incorporated seminaries of learning, is that of our own observation. Who 
 has not observed the fact, however he may have accounted for it, that all 
 who reside in their vicinity, whose souls are not petrified by ignorance and 
 polluted by vice, are characterized by more than an ordinary degree of 
 moral and intellectual refinement? Their minds receive their hue and shape 
 by habitual contact witii the learned men and literary and scientific pursuits 
 which daily obtrude upon their attention. By their unavoidable observation 
 of the transformation of character which mental cultivation works, they are 
 stimulated to submit themselves, in some measure, to the transforming in- 
 fluence. An atmosphere of thought is formed, and all who breathe it, cer- 
 tainly, and not imperceptibly, have their affections and mental powers puri- 
 fied and strengthened. A spirit is diffused over surrounding society, which, 
 like the gravitation of the spheres, binds and regulates the movements of 
 mind within its range. In monarchies there is a tendency in the public 
 character to assimilate to the manners and pursuits of the courts and digni- 
 taries of the empire, and unless the salutary influence of literary and scien- 
 tific bodies be interposed to check and redeem, the results are a corruption 
 of manners and frivolity of thought, which are the presage and the mani- 
 festation of social degeneracy. But in republics there are no courtly pow- 
 ers but those which are upheld by intellectual superiority, — no dignitaries 
 but the wise and the good. To these, and to these alone, is it given, to 
 cause the rays of science and the genial warmth of virtue to be infused into, 
 and reflected from, surrounding society, faintly or fervidly, in proportion to 
 the intensity of the radiating body. It was so at Athens. It was so at 
 Florence, in the age of the Medici; and it is pre-eminently so in the United 
 States. Look at the cities and towns where seminaries of learning are 
 located and liberally sustained, and then at those where they are not, 
 and who is so blind as not to observe the contrast in many of the most 
 striking traits of human character? The people may enjoy equal natural 
 advantages, — may be descended from the same ancestry,— be engaged in 
 similar pursuits, and be equally prosperous; — and yet with all these equali- 
 ties, there is still a manifest diversity of general character. Of the accura- 
 cy of these views we need go no farther for proof than to the vicinity in 
 which we now are, and call no other witnesses than the members of a vir* 
 tuous and intelligent community, who crowd this hall on this interesting 
 occasion. 
 
 But, independent of history and our own observation, the beneficial in- 
 fluence of literary and scientific institutions can be discerned by considera? 
 tions based upon their constitution, their objects, and the means by which 
 those objects are attained. 
 
 It is universally admitted that united action and concentrated effort can 
 accomplish what isolated exertion could never achieve. It is so in politi- 
 cal, in commercial, and benevolent operations. It is so in the tented field, 
 and it is so in the peaceful cultivation of letters and the arts. In the 
 study of language the advantages of associated labors are not so appa- 
 
8 
 
 rent nor so great. But even here they are not to be disregarded. There 
 are languages whose beauty and cadence can be seen and relished only by 
 their habitual use. All languages were formed to be spoken; and no person 
 can acquire an adequate knowledge of them from a mere acquaintance with 
 their printed representations. If he cannot speak them as they have been 
 spoken, he must speak of them as they should be spoken. He must com- 
 mune habitually with others who are either masters of them, or, who are, 
 with himself, seeking their acquirement. Hence w T e find that a foreign lan- 
 guage is generally unattainable, or, if attained to any degree, is barbarous- 
 ly spoken and but half understood, by those who presume to be able to 
 trace its intricacies and attune their ears to its melody, alone and unaided. 
 The acquisition and advancement of science, especially of its useful and 
 certain branches, constitutes the grand field upon which to display the im- 
 portance of incorporated seminaries of learning. It is impossible to acquire 
 an adequate knowledge of chemistry, geology, and the whole connected 
 range of natural sciences, without specimens and the means of analyzing and 
 combining the various substances of which they treat, and to understand 
 which and be able to apply their multiform uses, are their grand objects. 
 How little was known of these branches of science before they were cul* 
 tivated in the various scientific institutions of modern times? For want of 
 their aids the knowledge of the heavens sought by the shepherd astrono- 
 mers of Chaldea resulted only in the confused wonders of astrology. Of 
 the earth, its movements and its internal treasures, the knowledge gained 
 by the Egyptians and Grecians was so limited and uncertain, as to be al- 
 most useless. Destitute of the philosophic tests and scientific furniture 
 which colleges and universities provide, they could not follow the easy road 
 of facts and experiments, and were obliged to expend their energies in the 
 labyrinths of conjecture. With a few simple exceptions, their labors were 
 little else than " a childish waste of philosophic pains," lavished in dogmat- 
 ical dissertations upon essences, categories and universals, and all that 
 nameless batch of absurdities, which composed what was called philosophy, 
 prior to the era of Lord Bacon. In the middle ages, the few who made 
 scientific pretensions, possessed of some vague notions of what they called 
 the four elements of nature— fire, air, earth and water — engendered the 
 crudest and most indigestible monsters imaginable. They bewildered their 
 reason in a restless search after the philosopher's stone and an universal 
 solvent, and benefited the world less than if their unintelligible fictions had 
 never been conceived. Upon a general review of the whole train of dis- 
 coveries and inventions, which now encircles the wide field of nature — > 
 navigates every ocean and river and narrow inlet of human pursuit — tra- 
 verses the heavens and plunges into the depths of the earth, climbs every 
 mountain and scales every barrier, — the conviction flashes from every 
 stroke of mental power, that without concentrated effort, without libraries 
 — chemical laboratories — philosophical apparatus, and the entire furniture 
 of a modern university or college, furniture which no one man, or mere 
 voluntary"" association of men, will provide — it is impossible either to ad- 
 vance science, or, to communicate an adequate and correct knowledge of 
 its past discoveries. 
 
 From these views the transition is easy to a consideration of the influence 
 of which we speak in preparing the mind for healthful and productive exer- 
 tion. Mankind, in avoiding the difficulties of ignorance, are prone to run 
 upon the dangers of hastily formed and ill digested notions of things anc| 
 
their relations. It is impossible to escape these dangers unless the know- 
 ledge we gain is the product of patient investigation. The human mind is 
 so constituted that all its works of greatness and value require long contin- 
 ued labor. The ore of knowledge must be quarried — culled out from the 
 clay and stones in which it was embedded — melted — refined — hammered — 
 tempered — polished — and sharpened, before it is fitted for use. A 11 this we 
 must do ourselves if we wish to obtain thorough and substantial knowledge. 
 We must seek to understand the whole subject. We must not only by 
 frequent coastings trace all the sinuosities of the shore, but we must venture 
 out upon and traverse the ocean. The mind wants that self confidence — 
 that consciousness of certainty, which renders its attainments available and 
 safe, if it rely upon the charts and narratives of others. 
 
 The grand secret of success in mental labor, in all its varied departments, 
 consists in those systematic, well directed exertions, which under the gui- 
 dance of definitions and general principles, are formed and pursued in an 
 academic course. They furnish a key which unlocks the mysteries of 
 matter and of mind. They light up and trim the lamp of reason, with 
 which the mind is enabled safely and successfully to explore the recesses of 
 nature, and bring forth " treasures both new and old." The rules of sci- 
 ence, or more properly, science itself, consists of definitions and general 
 principles. To acquire these is the work, not of a day, nor of a year — 
 they are the labor of years. And when acquired they serve as guides in 
 arranging and classifying all the numerous and apparently heterogeneous 
 forms of being which are strewn around us, and amidst which the untaught 
 mind wanders as in " a mighty maze without a plan." 
 
 As it is with the body, so with the mind. In order to derive nourishment 
 from the food of which they partake it must undergo a preparation for or- 
 ganic action. Too much must not be taken at once, and there must be 
 something of order in the dishes. The desert must not precede the bread 
 and beef. If these precautions be omitted, the inevitable result is a mental 
 dyspepsia, tumors and fevers and phrenzies of the mind, which defile and 
 destroy its powers, and render them a bewildering mass of ruins. For all 
 these disorders the antidote is in the generally well graduated course of 
 study in all our Colleges and other schools of science. Here the mind is 
 made to undergo a process which develops and strengthens all its powers 
 in their proper proportions; and thus fits it, as well for preserving unim- 
 paired the treasures which it has already amassed, as for extending its march 
 into new fields of discovery and of dominion. 
 
 The studies and discipline which pertain to a collegiate course, take such 
 deep root in the mind's constitution, that, by no after effort or neglect, can 
 they be wholly eradicated. They impart an energy and decision of char- 
 acter — an independence in thought and fearlessness in action, which if they 
 do not elevate their possessor and sustain him on the heights of honorable 
 ambition, will give to him an impetuosity and hardihood in his downward 
 career to degradation and ruin. We have all been pained to behold and 
 converse with educated men, over whose souls unbridled passion ruled with 
 desolating sway,- — who had drunk to the very dregs of the Circean cup of 
 vicious indulgence, — who had become wretched aud brutalized, herding 
 with the vilest and most degraded of the human race; — and yet, through all 
 the filth and rubbish, which made them a loathing to themselves and to so- 
 ciety, we could discover the indelible traces of their former mental culture. 
 In the deepest, darkest cavern, the diamond is detected by its radiant bright- 
 
10 
 
 ness. So the cultivated mind is betrayed, even by the excess of ruin which 
 marred its greatness and its beauty. 
 
 As when Heaven's fire 
 
 " Hath scathed the forest oak, or mountain pine, 
 " With singed top its stately growth, though bare, 
 " Stands on the blasted heath. " 
 
 The influence of literary institutions upon the literary taste of the com-, 
 munity, is both salutary and necessary. This age has been styled the true 
 Athenian age; — not the age of that " high and paimy state" of literature at 
 Athens, which poets laud and the literary historian records, but that age of 
 extravagance and curiosity which was at its zenith when " Paul stood in the 
 midst of Mars' Hill." It is true that this is an age of reading and thought, 
 — of general illumination, as well as general excitement. But the unpre- 
 cedented facilities for printing and reading have had, together with their be- 
 neficial, many pernicious consequences. It is greatly to be feared, that 
 what the stream of knowledge has gained in breadth it has lost in depth. 
 The good old solid bullion of literature which was current in past centuries, 
 has become too massive for the effeminacy of the present race of literary 
 devotees. Accordingly it has been beaten out into the thin foil with which 
 the tumid nonsense and enervating fictions of the day are gilded. The 
 giants of wit and sentiment of past ages are crowded aside by the countless 
 throngs of pigmies, which infest all our coasts, like the Egyptian plague of 
 frogs, engendered out of the very scum and sediment of literature, It is 
 ever so when true greatness and sterling worth sink in the general esteem. 
 " The fall and decay of a great oak gives birth to a whole tribe of fungi." 
 I would not be understood as condemning, en masse, the literary productions 
 of the present age. Far from it. There are many of them which will live 
 long and deservedly. But these are not the books which the fashionable 
 part of the reading world rank among the classics of modern literature. 
 That meed of distinction is bestowed almost exclusively upon those aboli- 
 tions which teem from our groaning presses, which are 
 
 " Begotten without thought, born without pains; 
 " The ropy drivel of rheumatic brains." 
 
 If a man goes into a fashionable book-store in this reading age, and asks 
 for the Spectator or Robertson, or Cowper or Locke, or the Vicar of Wake- 
 field, he is gazed at with a sneer, as at some straggling hanger-on upon the 
 outskirts of refinement — as one altogether behind the " spirit of the age." 
 And the wonder-imparting inquirer is fortunate if he is not told that the 
 work for which he asks is " out of print!" He will immediately be handed, 
 as far more elegant works, Moore's Loves of the Angels, the Journal of 
 Frances Ann Butler, Bulwer's new novel, the Whim Whams of Launcelot 
 Longstaff, Romance and Reality, or some other of those well-named ephe- 
 mera of the press, of nearly all of which it may be said — " vox et proeterea 
 nihil." There is abroad an insatiable rage for something new and exciting, 
 and which can be read without much labor. To appease this rage, hui> 
 dreds of pandering aspirants swarm around the " sacred mount." Every 
 straggling flower upon the Parnassian steep is withered by their steamy 
 
II 
 
 breath; and the waters of Helicon are well nigh exhausted to preserve in 
 them even the semblance of freshness and odour. 
 
 To counteract this tendency to corruption in the general taste the salt of 
 academic lore is indispensable. It is within the province of literary institu- 
 tions to exert a conservative — a renovating influence over the writing world 
 and over the reading world. The studies which they are designed to cultivate, 
 and the mental and moral discipline which they impart, have a tendency, 
 which cannot be too much promoted, to maintain the rights and preserve 
 the dignity of the fathers of literary excellence. They constitute an inte- 
 gral and a very important power in the republic of letters; and, unless they 
 exercise their veto upon the wanton innovations of the age, it must become 
 still more corrupt, and the beauties of Homer and Milton, and the placid 
 depth of Cicero and Addison, cease to be relished and appreciated. Unless 
 a rescue is effected by their arm there is no hope of deliverance. The 1 9th 
 century will run as wild after the meteors of fancy, exhaled from the marshes 
 of fashionable literature, as did the dark ages after those monstrous excres- 
 cences of chivalry which composed the devoted library of Don Quixote. 
 
 Such are some of the direct and manifest advantages to society of litera- 
 ry and scientific institutions. They are of general application, taking hold 
 upon the happiness and destinies of mankind under every form of govern- 
 ment, in every age, and under every combination of circumstances. 
 
 But it may be well to notice the peculiar benefits which seminaries of 
 learning confer upon a free people. European writers upon government 
 generally award to republics the attribute of public virtue, but deny their 
 efficiency and stability. They do not. mean, however, by a republic, a go- 
 vernment of co-ordinate powers and well-adjusted relations, such as ours. 
 But viewing them as governments under the immediate control of the peo- 
 ple, if they merit the attribute of public virtue, they are supposed to be con- 
 trolled by minds capable of discerning the general good, and sufficiently 
 under the guidance of virtuous principles to have a single eye to its attain- 
 ment. Men, in their conduct, are governed either by passion and prejudice, 
 or by reason and justice. And such is the constitution of our souls, that 
 unless our intellectual powers are cultivated and fortified by virtue, our pas- 
 sions will, by spontaneous growth, overtop our reason and rule with undi- 
 vided sway. 
 
 Republican government is but self-government in its most extended appli- 
 cation. Every freeman is, to a great extent, his own ruler. And if he is 
 not under the influence of reason — of enlightened reason, his freedom de- 
 generates into licentiousness, and produces all the calamities of the wildest 
 misrule and anarchy. If passion reigns, the individual, as well as the com- 
 munity, under its power, is ruined. If reason and virtue are dominant they 
 prosper. To subdue and keep down the former, and elevate and sustain 
 the latter, are the grand objects of that education which is to be obtained in 
 our public seminaries of learning. There must be disciplined minds. 
 Without them the affairs of government cannot be conducted successfully. 
 In a monarchy, if two or three men can be found of sufficient comprehen- 
 sion of thought and energy of action to constitute a cabinet, the wheels of 
 government will roll on with ease. But not so in a state where every man 
 is his own prime minister — where every subject is a king. There there 
 must be intelligence in a greater number, and that intelligence must be of 
 no ordinary kind. It must be such as can look before, behind, on either 
 side, above and beneath, and see the hidden tendencies of public acts. If 
 
12 
 
 this be wanting there is a blindness and constant stumbling in the move- 
 ments of the body politic. It is not contended that all the citizens of a re- 
 public should be trained to a knowledge of the classic page or scientific pro- 
 blem; but the greater the number who are, the greater is the strength and 
 the richer the benefits which belong to such governments. Men may be 
 virtuous, and yet unless their virtue be of that masculine kind, which de- 
 rives its vigor and its defence from intellectual aids, it is easily corrupted. 
 Such virtue and such aids are to be obtained under that salutary influence 
 which schools, colleges, and universities exert. 
 
 Literary and scientific institutions have, in every age, and in every coun- 
 try where they have existed, been the asylums of persecuted liberty, and 
 their sons the advocates of equal rights. The doctrines upon which the 
 British crown based its pretensions to absolute supremacy over the Ameri- 
 can colonies, was first publicly questioned by a student of the University of 
 Harvard, who was afterwards a distinguished leader in our Revolutionary 
 struggle. The revolution of three days in France, which uprooted a dynas- 
 ty of despotism, was achieved in a signal degree by the skill and valour of 
 the youth of the Polytechnic school of Paris. And the late salutary reform 
 in the " fast-anchored Isle" found its most unyielding advocates in the pie-, 
 bian alumni of her universities and colleges. Liberal principles every 
 where follow with eager step the advance of liberal education; and the firm- 
 ness of that step is in proportion to the thoroughness of that education* 
 Learned bodies, like Buonaparte at the bridge of Lodi, constantly keep the 
 standard of moral and intellectual conquest in advance, and bid and encour^ 
 age the world to follow. 
 
 The circumstances which in this age of the world have combined to- 
 produce a crisis in its affairs have also combined to develop the influence 
 and magnify the value of seminaries of learning. What those circum-. 
 stances are we are not called upon now to specify. Every intelligent eye, 
 not jaundiced by selfishness, must see that the surface of society is no long- 
 er an unruffled calm. Wave chases wave with constantly increasing height 
 and accelerated rapidity. What breath has moved upon the ' face of the 
 great deep? The breath of heaven. What has given to the crested billows 
 their fury and their strength? It is the moral earthquake which threatens 
 to engulf the cumbrous fabrics of folly and crime. It is a war of elements 
 in which men and gods engage. " Pluto trembles in his dark abodes." 
 And the conflict will not be ended until " fuit Ilia" be written upon the 
 ruins of every turretted hold of ignorance and tyranny. 
 
 Launched upon this agitated ocean are the vessels fraught, with those 
 treasures of science and Christianity which are destined to illumine and re- 
 novate the world. And who can guide them in their adventurous voyage 
 but those to whom Christian virtue, and the learning of Christian lands* 
 have given the undaunted heart and skilful mind. Dangers are to be en- 
 countered with which only the well-disciplined mind can grapple. The 
 Cape of Good Hope must be doubled, and the tempests and calms of the 
 equator weathered in safety. Who are equal for these things but they who 
 after patient study have obtained moral and intellectual charts, compasses, 
 and quadrants, drawn from the magazines of universities and colleges? 
 
 One of the noblest features in the character of seminaries of learning is 
 the readiness and spirit with which they embark in the varied enterprizes 
 of benevolence, which are the pride and glory of this age. Are arguments 
 and eloquence wanted to convince governments that it is their duty to edu* 
 
13 
 
 cate the poor? They are ready to supply them. Is the hydra, Intempe- 
 rance, to be slain? They furnish the weapons. Are prisons and the 
 abodes of misery to be explored and lighted up with the smile of virtue, and 
 the demons who reign there to be destroyed? They come with torch and 
 spear to engage in the undertaking, however unpleasant and hazardous. 
 Is the infant mind to be initiated into the paths of knowledge and religion? 
 They send forth the guides. Are the streams of civilization and Christiani- 
 ty to be made flow down the valleys of the Niger and the Ganges? They 
 call forth the resources and furnish the men which are requisite for the 
 mighty achievement. Does the historian or the traveller wish to learn the 
 standard of benevolence among any people? He consults their seminaries 
 of learning, which, like the graduated pillar in the Nile, mark the risings of 
 that mighty river of light and love which is now inundating and fertilizing 
 the world. 
 
 It would be improper to close this imperfect review without adverting to 
 the salutary sway of literature and science over the enjoyments and charac- 
 ter of those who are the subjects of their dominion. The idea so degrading 
 to the dignity of human nature, and so insulting to the Architect of our in- 
 tellectual powers, that " ignorance is bliss," however it may accord with the 
 moody musings of the sentimentalist, is spurned by every well-regulated 
 mind. For 
 
 What is man, 
 
 " If his chief good and market of his time 
 
 " Be but to sleep and feed? A beast — no more." 
 
 Who that has tasted the richer than Castalian dews, which gem the 
 flowers that bloom along the paths of literary and scientific pursuit, could be 
 tempted to forsake them for the most undisturbed retreat which poetry ever 
 dedicated to ignorance and sense? Who would abandon those paths to 
 grasp at the wealth of Crossus, or climb to the topmost round of ambition's 
 tottering ladder? The man to whom education has given a relish for the 
 beauties of classic literature nauseates the most mantling bowl of selfish 
 and sensual indulgence. He, to whose expanded mind science unlocks the 
 stores of nature, finds himself the possessor of treasures compared with 
 which the idols of human folly and passion are but bubbles which deceive 
 and — are no more. He feels and enjoys his rank in the scale of creation, 
 acts out his relations to his fellow men, and is impelled by the purest mo- 
 tives to accomplish the high purposes of his existence. He acquires an in- 
 dependence and elevation of character which would make him disdain to 
 " flatter Neptune for his trident, or Jove for his power to thunder." If such 
 a man possess the " mens conscia recti," he can meet the most frowning 
 fortunes with a smile of defiance. He moves on through life like the wave 
 of the ocean which rolls its resistless weight to the shore in the brightest 
 day and in the darkest night; and like that shore, he breasts the swelling 
 surge as undismayed in the angry tempest of the tropics as in the calm 
 moonlight of the temperate zone. Cicero has so graphically described the 
 enjoyments to be derived from the studies we have attempted to commend, 
 that, although familiar to you all, I may be allowed to recall his language 
 for your admiration. " Heec studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblec- 
 tant, secundas res ornant, adversis solatium et perfugium preebentj delec- 
 
14 
 
 fcant domi, non impediunt foris, pernoctant nobiscum, perigrinatur, rustical!- 
 tur." How simple, how expressive, how true. 
 
 We look back, my fellow Alumni, through the vista of years which in- 
 tervenes, to the interesting period of our lives which we passed in this nur- 
 sery of learning, with pleasing or painful emotions, corresponding to the 
 improvement or neglect with which we have treated the advantages we here 
 enjoyed. Have the tender germs of literature and science, which were 
 here implanted, been suffered to perish by neglect, or have they grown, by 
 careful culture, into trees of usefulness, spreading their foliage over those 
 around us, and yielding fruit for the nourishment of the thousands who are 
 perishing for lack of knowledge? Have our collegiate acquirements been 
 made the capital, upon which to accumulate greater intellectual riches; or, 
 have they been thrown away as things unworthy the consideration of man- 
 hood? These are questions which require our most unbiassed examination 
 and most impartial answers. 
 
 Our presence here, at this interesting season, affords so strong a pre- 
 sumption that our relish for literary and scientific entertainments has not 
 abated, as to exonerate me from the charge of a design to make any invi- 
 dious imputations. But I speak from experience, as well as from observa- 
 tion, when I say, that young men, especially after engaging in professional 
 pursuits, are inclined to consider their diplomas as full dispensations to sub* 
 sequent neglect of all those studies, into which their advances have been 
 but over the thresholds. They are prone to forget that " a little learning 
 is a dangerous thing." Such dishonor to their lineage and their literary 
 titles is as criminal as it is shameful. It makes their parchment hang loose 
 upon them, " like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief." 
 
 It should never be forgotten, that the most exalted stations in society are 
 worthy of admiration only when they are honorably filled. Their occu- 
 pants must give them their lustre, or they will sink together into obscurity 
 and reproach. The divine, the lawyer, the physician, or the statesman, if 
 he claim the honors of a college, must, on many occasions, be made to feel 
 that they confer but a " barren sceptre," unless they are upheld by the still 
 higher honors of a scholar — a man of general and accurate intelligence. 
 Every professional avocation derives its merit, not merely from a know- 
 ledge of its own principles and details, but from an extended knowledge, 
 consisting not of gleanings only, but of reapings, collected from every field 
 which art and science have cultivated. It is a fatal error into which many 
 fall, as well in their preparatory education, as in their subsequent mental 
 culture, that a particular profession justifies the neglect of particular 
 branches of knowledge. That kind of intelligence, which beautifies and 
 sustains any profession, is like an expansive arch — omit or remove any one 
 of the parts which compose it, and the whole is destroyed. When we go 
 out from our offices or studies into promiscuous society, we should not be- 
 tray our avocations. We should not " smell of the shop." We should be 
 able to sustain with decency, at least, if not with the skill of a studied actor, 
 any part which may be cast for us in the grand drama of life. 
 
 However captivating may be the charms of mere literary pursuits, we 
 should not passively sink in their embraces. There is an expanded field 
 of knowledge, in which men and things, as they exist around us, are the 
 subjects of study, which is of the highest importance. We must, with the 
 reading of our offices and studies, mingle the reading and study of the 
 broad book of nature. We must mix with our fellow men — study their in- 
 
15 
 
 ierests and their ruling passions. It is necessary we should do this in order 
 to be truly useful and successful in our professional engagements. Do we 
 seek to win the trophies of eloquence? We must intertwine ourselves with 
 all the chords and springs upon which eloquence is designed to play. Do 
 we aim at the confidence and esteem of our fellow men? We must reach 
 it through their interests and their wishes. Do we strive to vanquish their 
 follies and their vices? We must trace their avenues, and reconnoitre their 
 holds. Do we desire fame and immortality? Their monuments must be 
 erected upon the deep and broad foundations of practical knowledge, ap- 
 plied to relieve the wants and enlarge the happiness of mankind. 
 
 But these qualifications for usefulness and fame, however important, and 
 even indispensable, are not, of themselves, sufficient. They are but the 
 munitions of intellectual warfare. A man may possess them all, and yet be 
 like a dastard knight, with his eyes tremblingly fixed upon his cuisse, or his 
 shield, when they should be guiding his steed and lance through the mazes 
 of the conflict — bewildered and motionless, when he should be blazing in 
 the front of battle. We must study our own strength — learn our own 
 rank, and maintain our own rights. No man ever yet rose to the heights 
 of honorable eminence who did not begin his flight with a confidence in the 
 strength and reach of his own wing. He who would 
 
 " Dive into the bottom of the deep, 
 
 " And drag up drowned Honor by the locks," 
 
 must believe and feel that the nerve and might of his own arm are adequate 
 to the noble daring. This self confidence is the very reverse of that pinion- 
 less vanity which is the offspring of mental weakness. It is the basis of 
 that generous emulation — that ambition to excel in deeds of high emprizej 
 which expand and sustain the soul; and which make it disdain to call upon 
 Hercules until every innate energy which it can command has been fully 
 put to the test. 
 
 We should also know, and preserve inviolate, our rank and our rights 
 amid the gradations and agitations of society. The discharge of this duty 
 is not unattended with difficulties. We frequently meet with those who look 
 upon educated men as dangerous members of society; and who would, had 
 they the power of Jove, confine them, like the winds of Heaven, in some 
 /Eolian cave. And true it is, that learned men may, like the " sightless 
 couriers of the air," deal desolation around them, unless their force is chas- 
 tened and checked by the influence of virtue. But such aberrations from 
 their usual and appropriate spheres do not justify that jealousy which too 
 often besets them, and impairs their usefulness. They have a purifying and 
 salutary influence upon terrestrial affairs, which, by its proper exercise, we 
 should teach the world to appreciate. We must not, because we may 
 occasionally have been rudely repulsed when w r e ventured to step upon the 
 platform of active life, basely abandon our rank and surrender our rights. 
 Although passion and prejudice may sometimes foist the ignoble and unwor- 
 thy into places which we had marked out for ourselves, we must not there- 
 fore retreat like hermits into cells, to show ourselves only at their portals, 
 to count our beads and chant our matins and vespers. 
 
 Happily, these instances of injustice to our feelings and motives, and 
 restraints upon our conduct, are few. We should look upon them only as 
 acknowledgments of our influence, and use them as incentives to its exercise, 
 
16 
 
 prudently, but firmly. We have abundant encouragements for laudable 
 effort. The path of duty is plain. And such are the facilities for honor- 
 able and beneficent exertion which our admirable institutions, civil, political 
 and religious, afford, that every man may display all his powers and render 
 all his resources effective. Of these facilities it is our duty to avail ourselves. 
 It is an axiom in Christian ethics, which none of us will be disposed to 
 question, that talents involve responsibility: and Sallust has said that " he 
 alone seems worthy to live, and truly in possession of rational enjoyment, 
 who dedicates his talents to some active pursuit." Repose and inactivity 
 are as inconsistent with the obligations as with the merit of men, especially 
 educated men, in this age of action. The important consequences that hang 
 upon the issues of the conflicts between truth and error which now convulse 
 the world, indicate too clearly to be disregarded, that the time has gone by 
 when elegant retirement and learned repose could comport with a meritorious 
 discharge of duty. Cleopatra's barge is not the kind of vessel in which an 
 educated man can now ride with safety and honor upon the current of human 
 affairs. If he attempt it he will be buried — ignominiously buried, in its 
 tempest beaten depths. He who seeks for honor and greatness now, must 
 find them amid the rewards of benevolent deeds, — in the results of untiring 
 and untainted action. And admitting it to be true, as Cicero has said, that 
 " nemo vir unquam magnus fuit sine aliquo afffatu divino," yet every man 
 whose natural powers have been improved by study, may, with the aids 
 which upright motives and perseverance always bring, attain that greatness 
 which confers true honor, without the brilliant endowments of genius* 
 
 The Earth, 
 
 " Though in comparison of Heaven so small, 
 
 " Nor glittering, may of solid good contain 
 
 " More plenty than the Sun that barren shines." 
 
 However imperfectly presented have been these reflections and consider* 
 ations, I feel assured that they will not be thought inapplicable to our pres- 
 ent circumstances, or inappropriate to the objects of our association. And 
 I may be allowed to flatter myself, that if the high purposes they were de- 
 signed to inspire be carried back with us into our respective stations in 
 society, this visit to our literary parent will not have been without its profits, 
 as it will certainly not be without its pleasures. The character of that 
 parent, exalted though it be, is nevertheless sensitive. It is bound up with 
 the character and honors of her sons, — all of whom she expects will do 
 their duty fully and fearlessly. If we do this, our annual visits to her home, 
 to consult her interests and share her feasts, will afford her as much grati- 
 fication as they will pride to us, when we read within the wreath which 
 encircles her brow the cheering inscription — " vivit et viget." 
 

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