INSTITUTE LECTURES.








LECTURES
ON
MENTAL AND MORAL CULTURE.
BY
SAMUEL P. BATES, A.M.,
UVPERINTENDENT  OF  PUBLIC  INSTRUCTION,
CRAWFORD COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.'Whatever career you embrace, propose to yourselves an elevated aim, and put in
Its service an unalterable constancy."-Leciures on the True, Beautiful, and Good. M.
VICTOR COUSIN.
"Knowledge is acquired with difficulty, with the sweat of the brow, at the price of
humanity's perpetual labor. Spontaneity is innocence, the golden age of thoutght; brAt
virtue is worth more than innocence, and virtue requires a continual stauggle."History of Modern Philosophy. ID.
A. S. BARNES & OOMPANY,
NEW YORK AND CHIGACO.
1'78




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
A. S. BARNES & BURR,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.




CONTENTS.
LECTURE I.
PAGE
DIGNITY OF THE TEACHER'S PROFESSION,..................  9
LECTURE II.
THE BOYHOOD OF NAPOLEON,............................   41
LECTURE III.
THE POWER OF SPOKEN THOUGHT,........................~ 84
LECTURE IV.
VOCAL CULTURE,........................................   122
LECTURE V.
THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE,...............................   153
LECTURE VI.
THE MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION,...................   192
LECTURE VII.
POPULAR EDUCATION,. *.....................230
LECTURE VIII.
THE EDUCATION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES,.............. 264
LECTURE IX.
EDUCATION AND DEMOCRACY THIE TRUE BASIS OF LIBERTY,.. 295








PREFACE.
THE following Lectures, as the title indicates,
were prepared for the use of Teachers' Institutes, and have been delivered at intervals, before these bodies, during the past five years.
They were intended to be addressed to an assembly of teachers and citizens, such as are
usually found at the evening sessions; consequently, they are not designed for the exclusive reading of teachers.
The attempt has been, to make the opinions
developed thoroughly accord with the fundamental principles of our institutions and form
of government.  The necessity to the safety
and prosperity of the State, that every child
should be educated, and that the wealth of
the country should pay for this education, has
been made a prominent feature.
There will not be found in this volume a




VIll            P R-E F A CE.
systematic treatise for the special guidance of
the teacher, but those motives and incentives
to preparation, which may serve to awaken inquiry and stimulate thought.  In the hope
that it may contribute to the development of
our noble school system, it is submitted to
the public.
MEADVILLE, June 6, 1859.




LECTURE I.
DIGNITY OF TH,E TEACHER'S PROFESSION.
EVERY  man should regard his profession with
ipride. He should see in it something to challenge his admiration and win his affections.  He
should seek to view it on its sunny side and in its
fairest aspects. He should feel that love and regard
for it that inspires him with energy and enthusiasm
in its pursuit, that enables him to triumph over its
difficulties, and to glory and revel in its charms.
He who looks upon his profession with disfavor,
who thinks meanly of its labors, and speaks disparagingly of those who belong to it, will inevitably
be a drone.  His labor will press upon him  as
drudgery. The action of all his powers will be
sluggish, and in despising the pleasures of professional pride, he misses the finest enjoyment of active
life. There is no feeling more degrading to a man,
than the thought that he is engaged in a business of
which he is ashamed; than to feel that other men
look upon him with contempt because he labors
in it. It stifles every attempt to excel. It obscures
1'*




10           DI CN ITY  OF THE
Remark of Milton.               Members of the body.
every spark of genius and sinks him to the rank
of a slave.
In one sense there is no calling that possesses
claims to dignity above another. The man who is
engaged in the most menial occupation that is honest,
may possess as pure a heart, as he who has won for
himself the greatest earthly fame. The humblest
laborer, that lugs bricks upon his back the day long,
may possess the spirit and honor of a nobleman.
" If two angels," says John Milton, "were to be sent
from heaven, the one to be monarch of an empire,
and the other to be a chimney sweeper, the difference
in their minds would not be the value of a straw."
Earthly and outward distinctions would have no
weight. To do the will of Him  who sent them
would be their only care. To perform with fidelity
the duties of the occupation to which, for the time,
Providence has called us, should indeed be the
object of our solicitude.
But when we compare the results which the different callings in life are capable of producing, we
discover that there are different degrees of dignity to
which each is entitled. Aside from the purity of a
man's heart, and the fidelity with which he discharges his duties, there are the effects which his labors may produce upon those about him and upon
society. The mebre;    of the human body are all




TEACHER'S PROFESSION.                  11
Ignorance a source of ills;.  Teachings of Providence.
equally necessary to its life and symmetry, but in
the results of their action we readily admit the superiority of some in dignity and importance. The
callings of life also have their comparative value,
and exert their respective influences in the economy
of the world's progress. Beyond the claims of the
personal dignity of the individual, and of integrity
and honor which should be cultivated in every profession, there are grounds of distinction in the results
of his labors. It makes very little difference with
the progress of humanity, whether a shoemaker displays great skill in his craft, or whether he be an
awkward fellow. The result in either case will be
the commendation or curses of a few dozen pimps
and dandies. But the man on whose skill and energy the permanent improvement, the mental growth
of large numbers of human beings depends, has a
higher destiny.
The noblest object for which any man can live is,
without doubt, the cultivation of that part of him
which is imperishable. It is the mind that governs
and directs us in all things, and if we would have
our lives well ordered, and would be wisely gov —
erned, we should seek first of all, generous mental
culture. The many ills to which we are subject, and
the troubles and vexations with which our lives are
beset, result principally from ignorance. If we look




12           DIGNITY  OF THE 
Man created for improvement. Mental development only begun in this life.
abroad in the world, we see those classes of society
enjoying least of the rational pleasures of life who
have least knowledge. Those nations and tribes are
most. barbarous and brutish who are the most ignorant. Self interest and present gratification, if these
only were consulted, would confirm us in this opinion.
The teachings of Providence point us to the same
conclusion. We are created with the special design
of improving our gifts. Had this not been the purpose of our existence, the Creator would have endowed us with instinct, and thus have put us for ever
under the control of an iron necessity, like the beast
of the field, the bird of the air, and the insect that
flutters in the sunbeam.  These can not improve
their gifts, and they have no need of improvement.
The cattle of to-day know no more than the cattle
in the time of Abraham. The bird builds her nest,
and the bee fashions its cell, as they did at creation's
dawn. Were these to live a thousand years they
w-ould develop no new faculties, they would make
no improvement. Their knowledge is just sufficient
for their needs. They eat, and sleep, and then lie
down to die. But not so with the soul of man. It
is endowed with faculties susceptible of indefinite
expansion and improvement. At the earliest dawn
of existence development begins, and from infancy
to trembling age, he may by diligence and judicious




TEACHER'S PROFESSION.                13
Obstacles to universal culture.       Lord Bacon.
culture, add strength and knowledge to his increasing stores. The accumulations of the fathers may be
handed down to the sons, and thus from generation
to generation, and from age to age, the soul of man,
profiting by all that has been before it, may go on
growing in strength and increasing in knowledge to
the last syllable of recorded time.
Nor does development cease here.  There is a
more exalted view that opens beyond. The teachings of Nature and the direct testimony of Revelation unite in proof, that the mortal life of man is but
the beginning of his mental training. It is only the
childhood to that more perfect development which
shall succeed.  It will be the business of eternity
to unfold the height and depth of that knowledge
which we can here see but dimly, and with a vision
obscured by all those weaknesses to which flesh is
heir. Our best acquirements are comparatively infantile and weak. The farther we advance in knowledge only makes our weakness and folly more apparent; for the liglht which we gain, serves to show the
boundless extent of that which remains to be learned,
and leads us to that which it is not possible for us to
khow with our present light. The shortness of life
prevents us from prosecuting at length those subjects
even which our present powers and helps fit us to
pursue. The great majority of mankind are pre,




14           DIGNITY  OF THE
Does God create for naught?  Employments in the future.
vented by their position in society, by the necessity
they are under of toiling early and late for the
maintenance of themselves and families, from devoting the small space of this life to the development
of their spiritual natures. But the man who gives
his life to study is only able to master a few of the
elements of knowledge. Look at the mind of such
a man as Lord Bacon! Possessed of a comprehension and a grasp which seemed to look upon the laws
of the material world as with the eye of a God!
which seemed to range the universe at will, and
pointed out those sound rules of investigation which
have conducted to the splendid triumphs of modern
science, and have reared so proud a trophy to his
name I And yet he felt when he died that he had
but just entered the vestibule of knowledge; that.he
had only torn aside a few of the obstructions from
the field of discovery, and had set up an occasional
landmark to point the way; that he had only
picked up a few pebbles upon the sea-shore, while
its great caverns were full of hidden things anid
mysteries, which his earnest' mind was thirsting to
discover when be was called away! And does God
create for naught? Does that Being bestow such
gifts without granting the means for their improvement? Though we but commence their cultivation
in the brief period that is alloted to us in life, we




TEACHER'S PROFESSION.                 15
Spiritual improvement our highest duty.  Dignity of the Profession.
are impelled to the belief by every principle of human judgment, that abundant opportunity will be afforded for the full development of all our faculties,
and the comprehension of unbounded knowledge.
What more worthy occupation can employ our mental powers in a future state?  Our physical needs
will then be at an end, for our employments will only
pertain to pure spirit. There will then be no occasion for all that labor which is bestowed in acquiring
lands, and houses, and costly furniture, and in answering those demands which are made upon us by
fashion and the eyes of other people. For, if our
lives have been consistent with His will, we shall
live in mansions that are prepared for us, we shall
need no protection or rest, for it is eternal sunshine
and summer; we are dressed in the white robes of
purity, and the only occupations in which we can be
engaged will be such as pertain to us as pure intelligences.
We see then that the cultivation of the mind is
the noblest work we can accomplish for ourselves;
that its results are unlimited in extent and unending
in duration; that we derive from this the highest
gratification which a human being is capable of enjoying; that we thus begin that work of development and improvement, for the attainment of which
we are without doubt expressly oroated; and that we




16.         D I DIGNITY  OF TIIE
~neas at the tomb of Anchises.
thereby secure the approval of Him, whose will it is
our life and light to obey. For upon the faithful
servant, who used the talents with unceasing diligence, were bestowed the cheering words of praise;
while he who hid his talent in a napkin, was sent
away in disgrace with merited reproach.
If what has been said be-true, we must conclude
that the profession, whose business it is to train the
faculties and energies of mind,-to have under control the spirits of childhood, fresh from the Creator's
hand, —to impart knowledge which shall be the basis
and key to other knowledge,-to lay burdens that
will make strong the mental sinews,-to draw out
and set in operation all the latent faculties,-to unfold those laws immutable which exist in the physical, the mental, and the moral,-to plan conquests
and execute designs where the agencies are immaterial and spiritual,-and to be the instrument of
developing character that shall outlive the years of
mortal life, such a profession can not be excelled in
dignity. In our short-sighted judgment we are likely
to lose sight of the importance that should be attached to it. The spiritual is too often obscured by
the material and the tangible.
When zEneas was crossing the seas, as it is given in
Virgil's beautiful poetic account, he laifded upon that
island sacred to filial affection, and ordered games to




TEACHER S PROFESSION.                17
Comparison of the Professions.  Triumphs of the Farmer.
be performed about the tomb of his father Anchises.
Among others he instituted prizes for those who
would try their "skill with the swift arrow."  The
mark was a dove, tied high up upon the mast of the
vessel. But when he came to award the prize, it
was not bestowed upon him who hit the mast with
his arrow, nor upon him who severed the string, nor
yet upon him who pierced the dove in her upward
flight; but it was given to that aged chieftain whose
far ascending shaft kindled amid the clouds of heaven, and marked its track with flame.
We are apt to forget that we are created with
other faculties than those which pertain to us as animals,-which minister simply to our physical necessities. Surrounded as we are by the strife of men
fast to be rich and eager to lay up goods where moth
corrupts and where thieves break through, we lose
sight of the fact that we have hearts and an emotional nature which demand our care and culture.
Digestion is not the highest order of development of
which this being of ours is susceptible. Had growth
been the end of our existence, we could have been
created without the means of locomotion, and stood
with our arms extended like the oak of the forest.
Had we simply been designed to fulfill the conditions
of animal life, we could have been made like the lion
who devours his prey and then sleeps by his lair till




18           DIGNITY  OF TH I
Dignity and value of Teaching.
he needs more. But how different in purpose and
destiny is the creation of man! What powers of
thought and action is he not capable of displaying,
how generous in impulse, how lofty in purpose,
how sublime in virtue is he capable of becomingl
Who can fully realize the invention displayed by
Homer, the analytic acuteness of Aristotle, the sublime virtue of Socrates, the intuitive perceptions of
Bacon, the broad generalizations of Newton, the incomparable acquaintance with human thought and
feeling displayed by Shakspeare, without entertaining a more exalted view of man's nature and man's
destiny, and unceasing delight in the thought that he
is himself a man, possessed of a spirit akin to these?
That we may have a just conception of the dignity,and value of teaching, and the relation it sustains to
the world's thinking, let us compare it with some of
the other professions which are most highly esteemed
among men, and are usually looked upon as the most
honorable and dignified.
It is indeed a noble occupation to till the soil.
What glorious triumphs has the hand of the husbandman achieved! He indeed eats the bread of
labor,-he toils early and late, —and his garments at
times are worn and dusty. But what shapes of
beauty and magnificence does the earth take beneath
his hand I He hews down the heavy forest, and lets




TEACH ER'S PRO F ESSIONI.           19
Remark of Cicero.               Beauties of Creation.
the warm sunlight in upon the damp, mouldy earth.
He breaks the stubborn and rocky soil, and clothes
it with verdure. He digs deep trenches and plants
the vine,-with careful hand he prunes the too luxurious growth, and hangs beneath the broad green
leaves long clusters of purple grapes. Orchards of
mellow fruit glow in the autumnal sunshine, and
along the hills are ridges of golden corn. In summer time the choicest varieties of stock graze in the
meadow beside the cool brook, and in winter they
delight in warm shelter, and pure water, and unstinted feed; and he rejoices to see them eat and
thrive. It was that great lawyer and statesman,
Cicero, who said, when contemplating amid the cares
of state, the freedom and ease he enjoyed when surrounded by the labors of his farms, that it was his
greatest delight to see his ewes eat and his lambs
suck.
But beyond this limited view, to the husbandman
the volume of nature is wide open~. He is in the
very midst of the Creator's laboratory. It is indeed
ennobling to be a tiller of the soil, and to see the
work of creation that is constantly going on,-to
witness the changes that are taking place in the vegetable, and mineral, and animal kingdoms, whereby
the subtle and unseen elements take forms of beauty
and magnificence-the fragrant shrub, the stately




20           DIGNITY  OF THE
Results of the Farmer's labor.    Life of the Teacher.
tree —the diamond, and the ruby —the graceful turns
and curves in the contour of the horse, the stately
bearing of the king of beasts, and the strong wing
of the king of birds. And yet, what is the purpose
of the husbandman's work?  What the end of all his
labors?  Why! that when the seed time has passed
and the harvest has come, he may furnish the market
a few score bushels of grain,-that he may fit for the
sacrifice a dozen bullocks, and half as many swine,that he may store up in cellar and granary enough
to feed himself and family till harvest shall come
again.
The life of the teacher is spent in a different
sphere. There are none of the elements of natural
beauty about him, that light up the path of the tiller
of the soil. The herds lowing for their keeper, barns
filled with plenty, the fruitery groaning with the
orchard's bounty, the broad, rich acres of nicely cultivated land, —are not his. His home, it may be, is
an up-stair tenement in some obscure court. His
mornings and his evenings are spent in study, preparing for his daily task. If by chance he catch a
breath of fresh air, laden with the fragrance of newmown hay and apple blossoms, or the "sound of
bees' industrious murmur," it is when wafted to him
as he passes the garden wall, of the farmer. His days
are spent in the toil of the class-room. Patient and




TE A C HER'S PROFESSION.            21
Discouragements.                      Patience.
unceasing he must instruct the pupils committed to
his charge. One may be quick to apprehend, and
ready and attentive in all his tasks, while others are
drones and laggards. But he must adapt himself to
all. He may be obliged to repeat again and again,
processes and explanations the most simple in their
nature, and still realize the disheartening truth that
he has failed in making them understood by dull
and indolent members of his class. He may see his
instructions disregarded, and his good advice thrown
away. But he must be meek and patient still, and
renew his attempts as though all were equally apt to
learn and teachable in spirit, and never yield and
never tire in his exertions for the improvement and
welfare of the company that are gathered around
him. Indulgent parents may pour into his ear the
complaints of pampered and fault-finding children,
who have perhaps escaped unwhipped of justice,
which, but for the kindness of his heart, would have
been meted out to them. But he must take it all in
sympathy and meekness, and still strive to go on in
harmony. Who can tell the heart-eating cares that
beset the life of the teacher in his accustomed round
of tasks?  Who can recount the burdens that he
bears on his bosom during his waking moments,
and the perplexities that disturb his midnight slumbers?




22           DIGNITY  OF  TFHE
Imperishable material.             Extent of influence.
Such is a picture of the daily life of the teacher.
As an occupation, as a means of support and pastime, it can not compare in independence and comfortable living with that of the cultivation of the
3arth.  But what is the end of his labors?  The
work which the teacher accomplishes is unending in
its results, Eternity will alone suffice to measure
the fruits of his industry.  He works upon a material that will never perish. When he labors to
bring into operation all those faculties with which
the minds of his pupils are endowed, and inspires by
his enthusiasm their young hearts with a love for
learning, and a reverence for the truths of science,
and the beauties of literature, he wakes to action the
energies of a living soul,-he tunes an instrument
strung by the hand of the Creator, that will never
cease to yield harmonious sounds. He disciplines,
and trains for usefulness in life, those who come under his charge. - But the influence of that training is
not confined to those who received it. They go forth
into life to impart to others in turn what they have
realized;
"And each, as he receives the flame,Will light his altar with its ray."
What calling merely secular can equal in dignity a
work like this?  What profession in which the re



TEACHER'S PROFESSIOIN.                23
Co-worker with the Creator.          The Lawyer.
sponsibilities are so great, in which the future teems
with results so momentous?  The teacher is no less
a personage than a co-worker with the Creator in the
highest manifestations of his power. Without development, the mind of man is naught but a blank,
a waste without beauty and without use. But when
the hand of culture is laid upon it, it praises alike
the handiwork of the Creator, and the developments
it receives from him who trains it. So that the work
of the latter approximates in dignity to the former.
There is a grandeur in the profession of the law
which is hardly equaled among the callings of life.
Though so often sneered at and despised, for the
reason that no profession is more shamefully abused
by many of the class who should defend its honor
and uphold its dignity, yet in its true purpose, and
in its legitimate results it challenges our respect and
veneration. It is the business of the lawyer to search
out the facts which shall show innocence or guilt,
and thereby establish justice. The notion of a judgment for the purpose of establishing right, is one
that inheres in the human mind, and is essential to
veracity and honor. We can scarcely conceive a
more exalted idea than that of a general judgment,
when all the wrongs of ages shall be righted, when
the rights of the abused and long-suffering shall be
vindicated. But such is the daily labor of the law



24            1I GNITY  OF  TtlE
Defense of the guilty.              Dignity of the law.
yer. His office is to correct the wron/ s which man
suffers at the hands of his fellow-man.  The idea
very generally prevails, that an advocate can not
take up on the side of the guilty without compro.
mising his honor and his integrity. But even the culprit has rights which should be respected and defended. Because he is in the hands of the law and
powerless, he should not be abused by the party that
is interested to crush him.  He should not be made
to suffer for more than he is guilty of. It is quite as
honorable to defend and protect conscientiously the
rights of the accused, as to be engaged in the prosecution, and even more creditable to a man's heart:
" For earthly power shows likest God's
When mercy seasons justice."
The honest advocate does not agree to prove a man
innocent when- he is guilty,-to misrepresent and
falsify to gain the suit of his client; but to see that
no more than justice be done, —that the rights and
privileges of that client are respected, and that he secure "even-handed" justice. In this light, the profession of the law is noble and dignified. It awakens the finest feelings and sensibilities of the heart to
feel that one is the vindicator of the injured, and
taxes the noblest powers of the intellect to search
out and set in order the facts that shall inevitably"




TEACH E R S PROFESSION.                 25
Teacher successful, Lawyer's " occupation's gone."
conduct to justice. To feel that the life or death of
the client, the happiness or misery of an innocent
and dependent family may hang upon his words, is
sufficient to arouse him to the utmost of his capacity,
and to inspire him with unwonted vigor.
But the genuine faithful teacher does more than
this. He is not only a vindicator of justice and a
defender of truth and virtue, when trampled on by
the offender, but he performs this labor prospectively.
He labors to establish in the character, principles
that are antagonistic to vice and crime, and to nurture in the heart sentiments and feelings which shall
direct in the paths of rectitude and honor. His
office is to smooth and polish the gem whose ragged
corners would otherwise tear and lacerate whatever
it chanced to come in contact with.  He subdues the
spirit of contention, he inculcates the universal brotherhood of man, and lifts his pupils up above the petty
spirit of jealousy and revenge, which leads to those
endless and harassing difficulties that principally occupy the time of the lawyer.  The dignity of these
duties is apparent. They supersede in spirit the necessity of the legal profession, and hence rise above
it in honor.  Whlenever the mission of the'schoolmaster shall be made perfectly successful, ithien the
lawyer's " occupation's gole."
We prize beyond the value of gold those master2




26           DIGNITY  OF THE
The Artist.                        Teacher in honor.
pieces of art scattered over Europe, which attract the
connoiseur of every land. From generation to generation, and from age to age, they are preserved with
almost a religious veneration. We pronounce the
name of the artist with a thrill of feeling which his
own lofty genius alone can inspire. But he labors to
produce the form  and features of these frames of
ours upon. canvas and in marble; and though he
inspire these, dumb and cold as they are, with the
grace and beauty of the moving, speaking form, yet
it is but a shadow that he creates. Scarce has he put
the final touch of his pencil, or has struck upon his
chisel the last tinkling blows, ere time's effacing fingers are busy on its surface,-and the canvas fades
and mouldcers, and the marble is crumbling into dust.
Not so with the work of the teacher. He draws the
lineaments and features of life upon a human soul,
warm with emotion and radiant with heavenly beauty,
His work does not fade and crumble, but is more
enduring with years. Every line from his pencil
takes deeper and brighter color as time wears on,
and every stroke from his chisel lays bare veins of
beauty which grow richer with age, and take a
higher polish from use.
In every age the teacher has been held in honor.
IHe is the interpreter to his own time of all the generations of thinking men that have preceded him. iHe




TEACHER S PROFESSION.               27
Sibylline books.                       Rome.
is the exponent of all cotemporary thought. He is
the chosen representative in the republic of letters.
The men of every profession seek to read and understand what he has written, and his books, like the
books of fate which the Sibyl presented to the
Roman emperor, are preserved with religious care,
and are studied with pious veneration. As we look
back through the ages that are past, the eye rests on
many nations that have, in their day, shone forth
with transcendent glory, and have served as beacon
lights to those which followed. There are Troy, and
Thebes, and Athens, and Argos, and Sparta, and
Carthage, and Rome. They have achieved universal
fame. Though existing in those remote'ages, the
mellow light of their glory rests down upon them
in unclouded serenity. And what among all their
grand achievements and boasted honors have they
bequeathed to us that we prize the most? The
books of their schoolmasters. There is no other of
their possessions that have come down to us, which
can be compared to these. Without them the glory
of those nations departs, for it is their books that
form the tit!e-deed of their renown.
When the Goth and the Vandal uncouth and
savage, invaded Rome, and trampled out the last
remaining spark of Roman genius, the night of barbarism settled down upon Europe and the civilized




28           DIGNITY OF THE
Dark Ages.                Western and Eastern Empires.
world. Rome was the last of the great heathen
nations, and when the light of her civilization was
extinguished, a period of gloom and ignorance succeeded, which was significantly called the dark ages.
Generation after generation passed, and we nowhere
see any marked achievement of mind. There were
no triumphs in literature, in science, in art, and consequently, there was no lofty impulse, no aspiring
purpose, that anywhere moved the national heart.
A universal gloom brooded over the nations. And
what was it amid this thick darkness that gave presage of the approaching dawn? What was it that
stimulated thought and kindled that flame which was
soon to flood the world with light, and burn with
increasing splendor?  It was the books of a few
schoolmasters, that had been hoarded up, and were
now scattered to the four winds. Upon the fall of
the Western Empire the writings of the Grecian and
Roman scholars were collected at Constantinople,
and during that long period of intellectual darkness
they were preserved and reproduced with vigilant
and unceasing care. But at the breaking up of the
Eastern Empire, and the overthrow of the power
there concentred, the books that had been collected
were scattered over the whole face of Europe, and
the energies of the nations, which had lain dormant
for more than three centuries, were inspired with




TEA CIER S PBROFESSIO.              29
-Printing-Press.                 Alexander the Great.
new vigor.  The compass was invented, which sent
Columbus in search of a new world. The discovery
of the explosive nature of gunpowder civilized the
profession of war; and the invention of the printingpress scattered thought as the wind drives the chaff
of the summer threshing-floor. The dozing millions
over all Europe were aroused, like the giant waking
from his long slumbers and girding himself for great
labors. The national pulse beat with new vigor, for
an element of life and activity was poured into its
veins. And this mighty revolution which followed
was achieved by the books of a score or two of
schoolmasters, who, centuries before, had lived and
died in peace on the shores of the Mediterranean.
In the same volume in which we read the history
of Alexander the Great, we read that of Socrates.
Alexander is recognized as one of the leading military chieftains of any age. His conquests extended
over half of the civilized world. He was worshiped
by his subjects as a demigod.  While he lived he
walked the earth in glory, but he died a miserable
death, in a fit of beastly intoxication, surrounded by
a circle of drunken revelers. Scarce was he cold in
his grave, before the captains whom he hald raised
to power quarreled over his tomb for the spoils of
empire. And whenever we utter his name, there is
no thrill of gratitude andl veneration.




8O             DIGNITY  OF  THE
Virttlie of Socrates.  His memory.  Extent of his influence.
Socrates, on the contrary, was an humble teacher;
who spent his days in the groves of the Academy,
among his pupils, and dwelt beneath a "low-roofed
house."
" But from his mouth issued forth
Mellifluous streams, that watered all the schools
Of Academics old and new, with those
Surnamed Peripatetics, and the sect
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe."
His life was so pure and unsullied, and its closing
scenes were characterized by such sublime virtue,
that his praise has been upon the tongue of all succeeding ages. His pupils gathered around him  at
his death, filled with unutterable grief, preserving
with religious care every word that escaped his lips.
rhe mention of his name thrills the heart with love
and admiration for his character.  The thoughts
which were matured in his brain will never die so
long as there are admirers of virtue, —and the consistency of his life, like the jewel on the brow  of
beauty, sheds unfading luster on his name.
Socrates indeed lived to a great purpose.  His
power of intellect, the acuteness of his thoughts, and
the logical correctness of his reasonings, have made
him  the teacher, not merely of the pupils gathered
about him  in a Grecian city and  speaking  the
Athenian tongue, but he is the teacher of all time,




TEACHER'S PROFESSIOlN.                31
Washington.                Aristotle, tutor of Alexander.
and in every polished language of the earth. And
yet, his intellectual greatness has achieved for him
the least part of his fame.  i~Many philosophers of
his own time, in mental vigor and acumen would
compare favorably with him. But in moral excellence he stands alone.  And when the teachers
of other times have lectured to their pupils on the
principles of virtue and moral rectitude, and have
sought amid the records of the past for some example which should inspire them with enthusiasm in
the pursuit and practice of it, they have pointed to
Socrates, to the integrity and honor of his life and
the sublimity of his death. It is only after the lapse
of ages, that we can point to a life so pure and unsullied,-that of our own Washington.
But even more intimately connected with the life
of the great warrior Alexander, is that of his tutorthe companion of his younger days. When Philip
of Macedon desired a teacher, who should conduct
the education of his son, he sought the services of
Aristotle, an humble citizen of Stagira, who by his
skill in the art of teaching had created for himself a
reputation that attracted the attention of the king.
And though the pupil became the hero of his time,
and achieved a glory that rivaled in brightness and
splendor the brilliancy of the noon-day sun; and cast
for the time in shade and obscurity the teachings




32           DIGNITY  OF -THE
Philosophy of Aristotle.  Bacon.   Remark of Carlyle.
of the humble tutor; yet the period was not far distant when the deeds of the warrior were regarded as
mere bold and daring exploits, brutal and bloody in
execution, and unimportant in their results, so far as
they related to his design, upon the progress of humanity; while the teachings of the tutor have increased to an importance that far transcends that of
any other man of ancient times. The systems of
Aristotle became universal.  In  the domain of
thought he was the monarch. His philosophy ruled
the world for centuries, and even now his treatise on
logic is the basis of the, text-books in all our colleges. Up to the time of Bacon his philosophical
systems bore undisputed sway, and in the field of
criticism he can never be supplanted.
Such is the profession, my brethren, to which we
belong. Such are the men who have labored in it,
whose teachings have been lights to the world that
are still clear and bright as time wears on, and with
whom we can now claim companionship.  Such are
the labors which this profession performs among
those great agencies that work out the problem of
civilization. In its results upon the race every other
profession sinks into insignificance beside it. Mr.
Carlyle has quaintly but very pointedly asked, " The
great event, parent of all others, is it not the arrival
of a great thinker in the world?" It is surely the




TEAC  ER'S PROF ESSION.              33
Perpetuity of letters.
thought of the world that directs'and controls its energies, and it is no less sure that the teacher directs
and controls its thought. Those nations that have
been most respected and honored, and have left their
impress upon the progress of the race, have shown
their appreciation of the profession of the teacher.
There are many events in the history of the past,
that have for the time excited the most absorbing
interest, and have engrossed the attention of prince
and people, which have long ago been forgotten, and
were not considered of sufficient importance to posterity to form a part of the annals of the times.
But if a king has invited to his court an humble
schoolmaster, the fact is trumpeted to the ends of the
world, and the historian is careful to record it upon
his page. The best period in the history of every
civilized nation has been that in which the reigning
power and the people at large have shown most emphatically their appreciation of the teacher's profession. And well they may; for it is by letters that
the glory of a nation is perpetuated. In letters is its
memory embalmed.
We have thus far considered the profession of
teaching absolutely, irrespective of the character of
those who fill its ranks. The object has been to show
its dignity from the results which it is designed to
accomplish. The dignity of the profession is always
2*




381          DIGNITY  OF THE
Common School Teachers.        First requisite, capacity.
and everywhere the same.  It is unchanging as
truth. The ignorance or imbecility of its disciples
may tarnish its luster and obscure its brightness, and
society may be prevented from reaping those fruits
which it is capable of bearing. But still the fault is
not in the profession.
I am aware that many whom I see about me are
the teachers of our common schools. It may be
proper, before concluding, to inquire how the common school teacher, even in his humble sphere,
may uphold its dignity and honor
The first claim which he should seek to establish
is that of capacity. No man can put confidence in
another and intrust to him important duties without
assurance of his ability. He should therefore seek
first of all liberal culture. He should never be content with proficiency simply in those studies which
he is required to teach. The grade of his school
may be such that only the common English branches
are comprised in the list; but a knowledge of these,
however elaborate, should never satisfy him. He
can better illustrate to a child the first lessons in
arithmetic who has a thorough acquaintance with
the higher mathematics, than one who has no knowledge beyond the simple acquirements of the class
he instructs.  The light of liberal culture throws its
rays back upon even the rudiments of knowledge,




TEACHER'S PROFESSION.                 35
Mediocrity.    Trials and perplexities.  Archimedes.
and makes them appear brighter and clearer. The
resources for explanation and illustration are at hand,
and he has the discretion and judgment to use them
intelligently. The teacher who is satisfied with a
certificate of perfect qualification in the branches
required by law to be taught will soon fall into a
stereotype process, and will ere long be left to
mediocrity and obscurity, by his more enterprising
and ambitious brethren, in a profession whose fundamental idea is progress and development.
There are difficulties and trials which the teacher
is constantly obliged to encounter. It is eminently
a profession of labor and vexation of spirit.  Perplexing questions, involving the knowledge he ought
to possess in order to inspire and hold the confidence
of scholars and patrons, are constantly arising. But
if amid all these harassing cares he has liberal cul-'
ture, if his mind has felt the strengthening influence
of a thorough course in the gymnasium, he has a
place on which to stand, from which he can not be
moved. He has the spot of solid ground for which
Archimedes sighed.
The teacher who expects to become eminent, will
also be thoroughly versed in works of a professional
character. In each of the other learned professions
there are books detailing the theory and the practice
of the art, and the young man who desires to enter




Of           D I G D IGNIT-Y OF THE
Importance of professional reading.  True spirit of teaching.
either of them must become proficient in the princi.
ples upon which it is based. This should be expected of the teacher. The bare acquaintance with
the several sciences should not constitute the maximum of his knowledge. He should in addition to
this be familiar with professional books particularly
devoted to the practice of his calling. His success
mainly depends upon the conception he. forms of the
duties which his position brings with it. If he has
no preconceived plans and purposes, then he will
have none to execute when he arrives at the schoolroom, except such as are drawn forth by the emergency, and must be adopted or rejected without
meditation. Those methods of governing and interesting scholars, which the best instructors have
employed are unknown to him, and he must follow
on the old beaten track, which those who taught him
employed. But if his mind be thoroughly imbued
with the true spirit of teaching, if he has acquainted
himself with the opinions of those who have thought
and written upon this science, his plans can be
formed upon a basis of knowledge and mature deliberation. He has the theory of his profession, and
he can weigh the value of different methods, and
adopt or reject according to his faith in them. He
will have at his command the experience of those
who have had eminent success, and have had a life



TEAC IHE R'S PROFESSION.             37
" Waking up process"         Keep even with the times.
long acquaintance with its duties. Htis mind will be
rendered fruitful in expedients for managing a school,
for conquering the stubborn, for winning back the
disobedient to filial respect and submission, for arousing the indolent to a sense of their shame, for quickening the powers of the dull and unthinking, and for
animating all with the spirit of enquiry. He learns,
instead of the dull routine' of enforcing lessons at
the point of the rod, to substitute the " waking up
process." HIe experiences the most grateful reward
of his labors which a teacher can know, that of seeing his pupils love to learn, and delight most of all to
be about him. To this end he should also have the
leading educational periodicals, and thus familiarize
himself with the improvements which are being
made, and those methods which are practiced by our
most distinguished educators. He should, in a word,
acquaint himnself with the last best thoughts which the
world has produced upon the subject, and thus keep
even with the times.
Finally, the teacher who desires the respect and
confidence of cultivated and thinking men, should
possess extensive general information. Many of our
young men who aspire to this position are shamefully ignorant of the most common and familiar facts.
A teacher once enquired of me if Benjamin Franklin
lived in Boston now. And that young man was a




38            DIGNITY  OF  THE
Ludicrous error.  Ilistorical reading.  General literature.
proficient in Latin and mathematics, and was a splendid scholar in the Greek. Another, when, in conversation with him, I chanced to mention the name
of Alexander Hamilton, wanted to know if he was
not the president of Princeton Theological School.
~When I told him that it was Dr. Alexander to wvhom
he probably had reference," Oh! yes," said he, " that
is the man I meant." This young man was about to
graduate from college, and was actually making inquiries about a subject suitable for his graduating
oration. Such shameful ignorance of the commonest
facts in our history is unpardonable. It is the fruitful source of that derision in which many of our
class are held.
Let every teacher\possess himself of a few books
on history, and especially the history of our own
country, so as to be able to trace out our national origin, and the statesmen who have taken a
prominent part in public affairs.  He should be minutely acquainted with the constitution of the United
States, and with the opinions of those who framed
and adopted it. He should' know something of the
history of politics, and the positions which parties
have held in the past. He. should pursue a course
of reading in general literature, acquaint himself with
the best authors, and become familiar with their — yle
and pecluliarities. Let him study the poetry of the




TEACHER' S PROFESSION.                 39
Devotion to the Profession.         Not one of ease.
great masters, and be able to converse intelligently
in a company of educated people upon any topic
connected with its structure and allusions. If any
young man thinks this too much for him to accomplish, then he had better quit the profession.
To the genuine, whole-souled teacher, nothing is
impossible. He will never submit quietly and tamely
to pass in the company of well-bred people, as a boor
and a novice. He will work when others sleep. He
will gather his knowledge from every source, from
conversation, from his daily walks, from his scholars,
and from his own quiet meditations. He will forego
the gratification of sense and the pleasures of the
passing hour, for that higher pleasure which flows
from the consciousness of intellectual superiority.
The life of the teacher is not one of ease. Though
his labors are not apparent, and he does not create so
much noise and stir in the world as some who are
engaged in other occupations, yet they are not on
this account the less arduous and real.  A few of the
elements of success have been named. It is only by
possessing these, and indeed vastly more, that the
teacherscan claim any part of that dignity which is
inherent in the profession. He must never expect
that it is to endow him with any honors if he has
not first earned them. If he depends upon the profession for his dignity, without any real claims, he




40   TiHE TEACHER!S PROFESSION.
No dignity without merit.
will be of all men the most undignified.  For the
more honorable the profession, the more shame to
the man who proves himself unworthy of belonging
to it. If we are scholars and play the man, we shall
at least merit the reward. The great lights of the
past are the companions of our labors. The future
teems with opportunities. The field is already white
for the harvest. Wre have only to thrust the sickle
in. He who is worthy shall wear the crown, and
vindicate the dignity of the Teacher's Profession.




LECTURE II.
THE BOYHOOD OF NAPOLEON.
TRUTHFUL history of the youth and education of one, who in manhood has manifested
transcendent powers of mind, must always be of interest. If the conduct and glory of his life has
attracted unusual attention, there is a natural desire
to be acquainted with that portion of it which transpired before he had come to public notice. But to
the rising generation, to those who are now receiving
that education which is to guide and support them
through life, the early history of such a man is of
vital importance. If a certain course of training has
conducted him to success in what he has undertaken,
it is fair to infer that similar training will exert a
corresponding influence. If a well-spent youth has
been rewarded with fortunate results, it will yield
encouragement for others to go and do likewise. If
his education has borne rich fruits in mature years,
it will be profitable for us to inquire, what was the
course of studies that he pursued, and what was the
manner of pursuing them. When a man has arisen




42             THE  BOYIIOOD
Labor and genius.         Observation of Sir Sydney Smith.
from poverty and obscurity to such a brilliant career
as that of Napoleon, the force of his early example
speaks to us in a voice that commands universal
attention.
WVe are apt to look upon every marked achievement of human effort as having been secured by
genius-by gifts the special manifestation of Provi.
dence.  The young especially, are ever ready to
believe that labor and genius are incompatible.
They would transfer that halo of glory, that surrounds the reputed feats of the gods of antiquity, to
the real heroes of history. There can be no belief
more fatal to the claims of true greatness, and at no
period of life is it more disastrous to entertain it than
in youth.
Sir Sydney Smith has appropriately observed, that
"it would be an extremely profitable thing, to draw
up a short and well authenticated account of the
habits of study of the most celebrated writers with
whose style of literary industry we happen to be
most acquainted. It would go very far to destroy
the absurd and pernicious association of genius and
idleness, by showing that the greatest poets, orators,
statesmen, and historians —men of the most brilliant
and imposing talents, have actually labored as hard
as the makers of dictionaries and the arrangers of
indexes; and that the most obvious reason why they




OF NAPOLEON.                    43
Genius and idleness.  Five talents ten.  Napoleon the warrior.
have been superior to other men, is that they have
taken more pains than other men."
Could such a collection be made, it would but add
another proof to the many which already exist, that
the only true glory of man is labor; and that so far
from labor being incompatible with geniuss,-it is in
fact the creator of it. The most brilliant powers
with which Heaven is pleased to endow men, must
inevitably grow weak under the blighting influence
of sloth and inactivity., While labor makes the five
talents ten, and secures those habits of mental action
which are absolutely indispensable to the loftiest
achievements.  Let no youth despise labor, and
court the position of a luxurious life who hopes to
walk the paths of glory. The muscles pine, and the
strong sinews perish beneath the withering touch of
inactivity; while the smith at his sooty forge can
show a brawny arm and sinews like the steel he has
wrought. The faculties become weak and the purpose wavering when pampered with inglorious ease,
but the mind that is accustomed to bend steadily to
its tasks will be ready to seize with firm grasp the
object of its labors.
It is common for us to think of Napoleon only as
a warrior, as General Bonaparte. At the mention of
his name the presence is a lofty form, with a sword
flashing by its side, and a plume bending from its




44             THE BOYHOOD.
Bridge of Lodi. Helena. Ilis tarnished sword. Once like other boys
lordly brow. We would as soon draw the picture of
the lion without his claws and teeth, as Napoleon
without the trappings of war. Does he cross the
Alps?  He is seated upon a black charger with fiery
eyes and rearing form. Does he force the bridge of
Lodi? He is amid the thickest of the fight, his saber
drips with blood, his enemies flee at his approach as
from the genius of war. Is he banished to Elba?
He must still be an emperor, and the commander of
a military establishment. He was put in his grave
at Helena in the habiliments of war, and when they
brought him  back to France, his tarnished sword
surmounted his sarcophagus.
We seem to forget that he ever had a boyhood;
that he was once an infant muling in his nurse's
arms; that he began in the world with as little
knowledge as any of us; that he was obliged to resort to the same means for the attainment of it tbat
we were all under the necessity of doing; that he
encountered the same difficulties which perplex the
mind of the youth who are to-day in our common
schools. Because he was a'giant in manhood we do
not realize that he was in youth like other boys, subject to their weaknesses, captivated by their pleasures, and joining with equal zest in their sports, and
that the only difference was, that he from his earliest
years had his faculties under the control of his own




OF NAPOLEON.                    45
Moral tendency.   Born in 1169.      Roman bloo 1.
will, while they suffered theirs to be led by their desires and passions.
Of the moral tendency of Napoleon's life we haxe
nothing to say. Whether his career was a blessino
or a curse to the world, is not material to the subject
which we are considering. There are those who
have stigmatized him as a demon, and others with'equal zeal have praised his patriotism and his dlevotion to the welfare of his country. Upon this
question we are not called to pass judgment. We
do not desire by any praises we may bestow on his
talent and industry in youth, to encourage a taste
for military glory, or unholy ambition. He was a
noble pattern of a scholar, and as such we wish to
present him as an example to those who would
become eminent in learning.
About five years previous to the opening of our
Revolution, in 1769, Napoleon Bonaparte was born.
His parents were Italian, and there consequently
coursed in his veins some of the old Roman blood.
We discover in his character many of the Roman
traits. War was the profession of the Roman people. Peace was to them  an abnormal state. We
see in his nature that boldness and energy, that iron
will and unconquerable perseverance which so signally marked his progenitors.
H-Ie was born in the midst of a revolution.  Cor



46             THE  BOYHOOD
Corsican revolution.           Born amid convulsions.
sica, though an insignificant island in the midst of
the Mediterranean sea, happened at the time to be the.
theater of a bloody strife. The French had invaded
the island to subdue the Corsicaus and to make-it a
French province. It was the scene of wild disorder.
Families were broken up and scattered. His mother
was at the time following her husband in the camp.
Her womanly and tender spirit was disturbed by all
those passions which the dangers of conflict must
arouse. With him she fled to the wild retreats of
the mountains, and shared in the alternate hopes and
fears which the varying fortunes of their party inspired. But two months previous to his birth the
Corsicans were beaten, and the dominion of the island
passed into the hands of the French. Thus at the
very dawn of existence Napoleon was nursed from a
bosom convulsed by the wild disorders of the times
-the privations of the camp —.the dangers of the
battle-field -and all the horrors of a most sanguinary struggle. IHe was born with the sounds of war
ringing in his ears; and though in infancy he could
neither know nor appreciate the state of affairs, yet
he doubtless inherited the feelings which at the time
inspired the mother; and the conversations and tales
of heroic daring to which the conflict gave rise, were
repeated to him and gave bias to his opening; mind.
We are told that he always listened with the greatest




OF  NAPOLEON.                     47
Mother of Napoleon.   Mother of Washington.   Scenery of Corsica.
eagerness, in the most tender years, to the stories
about General Paoli, and to those heroic incidents
with which tle accounts of the revolution abounded.
The mother, as she had shared in these scenes, was
fond of relating them to her boy, and was thus unconsciously fostering in his young soul a~taste for
arms and conflict.  The character and future conduct of the man, is greatly affected by the influence
which the mother exerts during the first few years of
life.  If the mother possesses a strong mind, with
marked  characteristics, we almost invariably find
them impressed upon the spirit of the child, as the
seal leaves its impress upon the wax. The mother of
Washington was eminent for her moral virtues and
her deep-toned piety, and the man, amid the temptations of early life, the vicissitudes of the camp, and
the cares of state, was steady to the teachings of his
youth;
"Nor constant more the needle to the pole."
Napoleon was true to his lessons; and we find him
in danger always brave, and in times of trouble always heroic, pursuing with an eastern devotion the
love of glory which his mother's lips had inspired.
The island of Corsica is filled with scenery the
most wild'and  romantic.  In  the midst' of this,
Napoleon passed his youth.  To a mind- cold and




48             THE  BOYHOOD
Influence.     Quiet retreat.    Pale, thoughtful boy.
unappreciative, dumb and unthinking, scenery can
have few attractions, and over such a mind can
exert but little influence. But a soul alive to the
tones of nature's many-stringed harp, a soul that is
stirred by the echoes of caverns, the voices of the
winds, the roar of ocean and the stillness of the
wood, is greatly moved by sublime scenery. Such a
mind had Napoleon. From his earliest years he
was reserved and contemplative, delighting in solitary walks and silent musings. A seat by the overhanging rock was more congenial to his tastes than
youthful sports with a band of noisy companions.
Alone he wandered upon the breast of the rugged
mountain, and through the deep ravine; he souoht
the foaming cataract and the rocky cavern; he stood
by the.sea and mused on its lonely shore. There
was, near his mother's house, a quiet retreat embowered in trees, in which he particularly delighted
to pass his time. Here he spent many of the hours
of boyhood, in silent meditation, or in reading,
which at this early period was his chief delight.
Even now, when a stranger visits the island, this
spot is pointed out to him, and he can imagine the
pale, thoughtful boy pursuing his meditations as of
Sore.
Napoleon's first efforts at mental improvement
vere made in reading history. The aged and yen



OF NAPOLEON.                    49
Thrilling, adventures.                 General Paoli.
erable Paoli, the general-in-chief of the Corsicans,
whose fortunes the father of Napoleon had followed,
was accustomed often to visit the family, and our
youno hero was never tired of hearing from the lips
of him who had been a chief actor in the scene, the
accounts of those thrilling adventures with which that
fierce struggle abounded. In these early years his
spirit was fired with enthusiasm for deeds of noble
daring, and often his feelings became so much excited that he would break forth in those short, impassioned sentences, for which in after years his addresses to his soldiers were remarkable. Such was
the depth and  penetration which was sometimes
evinced by his remarks, that Paoli was filled with
admiration at the sagacity which he displayed, and
treated him more as a companion than as a child.
He soon became familiar with all the history of the
island, the claims of the contending parties, and the
character of the leading men. Later in life, when he
was about closing his studies at the military school
at Paris, he prepared a history of Corsica, which he
was on the point of publishing, when the opening
scenes of the French Revolution called on him to
lay aside the pen and take the sword. Thus perhaps fortune made him a warrior, rather than an
author.
Akin to the stories which he heard of the Corsican
3




60             T HE  BOYHOOD
Taste fotr reading.  How acquired.  Count MarbeLf.
revolution, were the accounts of the fortunes of
other nations which he found in history and biography. His passion for hearing stories from the lips
of his friends, was transferred to searching for stories
in the records of the past; and thus early in life was
established a taste for reading which was the foundation of his future fortunate career. His appetite was
fed by his daily acquisitions. He devoured books,
such was his eagerness to know their contents. The
surprising amount of knowledge which he had early
in life obtained, and the habits of reflection and studiousness which he thereby acquired, were the means,
as we shall soon see, of his promotion.
After the island had come into the hands of the
French, governors were sent from France to preside
over its political affairs. Among them was Count
Marboeuf, who became intimate in the family of the
Bonapartes.  The thoughtful and studious air of
Napoleon attracted his attention. His conversation
seemed to be that of a person much beyond his
years. He was surprised at the extent of his acquirements.  He became convinced of the strong
natural abilities and studious habits of this strange
boy. He accordingly recommended him for promotion to one of-the national schools.
There were at this time twelve provincial military
schools i.a France, which were annually supplied by




OF N A P OLEON.                51
School at Briemnne. Striking lesson from his promotion. Golden chances.
the most promising youth to be found in the kingdom.  Through the recommendation of the governor, Napoleon was sent to the school at Brienne,
near Paris. In this promotion of the Corsican boy,
is found one of the most striking lessons that can be
impressed upon the minds of the young. He was
promoted because he deserved to be promoted; because by his own efforts and zeal he had prepared
himself to be promoted; because he had convinced
his superiors about him whose attention he attracted,
that he desired to know more, and that he had the
resolution and the will to distinguish himself. The
idea too often obtains, that some meet with eminent
success because fortune favors them. But fortune
generally favors those who work hardest and most
merit success. The youth waits for some grand opportunity, when, by one long stride, he will acquire
knowledge and correct habits of thought. HIe lets
the little golden chances for improvement which
each day brings with it, pass by unimproved, until
sluggishness and imbecility of mind, and careless
habits utterly preclude the possibility of his advancement.
Not so with the youthful Napoleon. He commenced a brilliant career for himself. He did not
wait for a rare opportunity, when some one should
commence it for him.'He was s'udious, he was at




52            THE BO  O    O  D
Tears on leaving his mother.  Splendors of Paris.  1779.
tentive, he was thoughtful. He began early to make
acquirements in knowledge, and persevered with zeal
and energy in the course upon which he had entered; and when the time came he was not obliged
to seek for the situation, but he was sought to fill it.
Had his time been spent as most children spend
theirs, in play, and sports, and frivolous amusements,
with no thought, no aim, and no effort for improvement; had he not displayed the knowledge and
qualifications necessary for the place, he would not
have been recommended to the military school at
Brienne.
The world is full of opportunities,-but the trouble
is we are not ready to embrace them. He was prepared for this which now presented itself, and entered
at once upon the fulfillment of his destiny. Had the
preparation been wanting, he might have lived and
died in the island of Corsica, an obscure follower of
some trade or profession, and the world never known
of Napoleon Bonaparte.
It was at the age of ten, in 1779, that Napoleon
was transferred to the military school. He shed bitter tears on leaving his mother whom he tenderly
loved, and separating from his brothers and sisters,
and the home of his childhood. On his way he
passed through Paris, and saw the splendors with
which that city abounded- the monuments, the tem



OF NAPOLEON.                   53
British arms.    American colonies.    Lafayette.
ples, the palaces, the parks and fountains, and the
throngs of people. Little did the poor boy then
dream of the destiny which awaited him; that the
proud city would one day resound with his name;
that all that grandeur and magnificence would ere
long be his; that kings and emperors, the proudest
in Europe, would eventually be suppliants at -his
feet.
it was about the middle of our Revolution that
this event transpired. From  the part which the
French people took in the contest, and the lively
interest which they ever felt in the defeat of the
British arms, it is probable that Napoleon now began to acquaint himself with the events transpiring
among the American colonies. The new position in
which he was placed would naturally favor the acquisition of such general knowledge of events, as
would best fit him for that career which Providence
had marked out for him. About this time Lafayette returned from America, to arouse the Flcnch
people and the French king in behalf of the feeble
colonies in their almost hopeless struggle. This gallant young Frenchman everywhere inspired the liveliest interest. His youth, his devotion, his manly
attainments, the romantic project of aiding the weak
and feeble in the wilderness, in a far off land, excited the warmest sympathies of his countrymen, and




54             THE BOY-HOOD
Count de Maurepas.             Students in the 2chools.
wherever he appeared in public he was received with
bursts of enthusiasm. The story of his adventures
was repeated upon the stage. This feeling was not
only felt by the people, but was shared by the king;
so much so that the old Count de Maurepas remarked " that it was fortunate for the king that Lafayette did not take it into his head to strip Versailles of its furniture to send to his dear Americans
-as his majesty would have been unable to refuse
him." There is perhaps no class of people in a nation so quickly or so strongly moved by an incident
like this, as the students in its schools. The slightest variation in the rise and fall of public feeling is
discernible in them. It is not unlikely that Napoleon shared in this feeling, and was incited to renewed exertions, that he might himself one day
become a hero.
The entrance of Napoleon to the school at Brienne
was the beginning of a new life. He had been accustomed to the quiet and seclusion of the island of
Corsica, removed from the stir and commotion which
increase as we approach the capital.  None of the
luxuries of wealth, or the refinements of courts, or
the allurements to vice with which the more favored
circles of society abound, had yet made his acquaint.
ance. During that critical period in the life of every
boy, he was secluded from the corrupting influences




OF NAPOLEON.                 55
Company of young Frenchmen. Best society. Scorn of those young noblemen.
of a great city, by which many a youth, ere he has
passed the age of ten, is hopelessly ruined. But in
his new home every thing was changed. He was in
close proximity to the metropolis of France, where
beats the heart of the nation, and where the strong
pulsations are quickly felt. He found himself surrounded by a company of young Frenchmen, the
sons of noblemen and of the aristocracy of wealth.
They had plenty of money, and all those habits of
luxury and refinement which are cultivated in the
best society of the most polite nation in Europe.
Of these Napoleon could not boast. Money he had
not, for his widowed mother had seven children beside himself to support, and of refinement he had
only that which his strong native sense on every occasion supplied. He was therefore looked upon by
his companions with contempt. They had been accustomed to consider every person in any way dependent upon his own labors for support, as beneath
them in rank, no matter how exalted the occupation
in which he might be engaged. Hence they derided
him for being the son of a Corsican lawyer. These
reproaches, for which he could in no way be answerable, stung him to the quick. The scorn of those
young noblemen sunk deep into his heart. Friend.
less and alone, far away from his home, with no one
to bestow upon him'sympathy and kindness, his only




56              TH:E  BOYHEOOD
Their equal.                        IIeart of youth.
alternative was to digest in silence their contempt.
But the spirit which they displayed taught him
to hate every pretension to superiority founded on
wealth or birth.  He felt himself their equal in
every mental and moral gift, and he could perceive
no ground for the distinction which they saw fit to
make in the circumstance that they had inherited
wealth and he had not. The reflections which this
treatment gave rise to were undoubtedly the basis
of those broad republican principles which he afterwards asserted. The sense of injustice and oppression is never so strong and deep-seated as in youth.
The heart has not then been wrung by cares, and
troubles, and hopes crushed. It expects every thing
to conform to its intuitive sense of justice, and when
it perceives the right trampled out by the wrong,
the shock is more keenly felt than in after years,
when the feelings have become callous by oft repeated agonies and injuries. It was an important
lesson, and if he had learned no other while at this
school he would not have left home and friends, and
endured the scorn of his associates in vain. Thus
early in life he imbibed and cherished that delnocratic doctrine, that there can be no claims to superiority not founded on merit. It was upon this
principle, that in after years he made all those
distinctions in his army, from the lowest subaltern,




OF  N- APO LE ON.              57
Italian his vernacular.    History and mathematics.  Rose to front rank.
to him  who wore the cross of the Legion of
Honor.
Napoleon was of Italian parentage, and Italian
was his vernacular tongue. iHe could scarcely speak
a word of French when he entered the school. On
this account he was more isolated than he would
otherwise have been.  But this circumstance may
have been fortunate for him. He was looked upon
as a plebeian and a foreigner, and he was of necessity
driven to seek for society and amusement in books.
Thus, at the outset of his career as a scholar, he was
forced to adopt studious habits. Had he been received with open arms by his companions, and been
petted as a brilliant young fellow, and formed loose
and irregular habits, which are the almost inevitable
result of excessive convivial entertainment, he might
have come out a very ordinaryv man.
The course of studies in these military schools embraced an extensive range, including the languages
and the abstract sciences. But the branches which
received most special attention were history and the
mathematics.  In these Napoleon particularly excelled, By his indefatigable energy and studiousness
he immediately rose to the front rank in his class,
and at once secured for himself the reputation of a
scholar among his teachers and his companions. He
was indeed the plebeian and the foreigner; but he
3*




58              THE  BOYHOOD
The plebeian.        Use of mathenatics to the military man.
soon taughlt those about him, that in mental powers
and accomplishments, the plebeian and the foreigner
was far superior to them all, and that -so far from
poverty and obscurity being an impediment to mental development, it is in reality one of the most
favoring circumstances, and that no one can become
a scholar till he entertains the spirit which it induces.
Napoleon had a particular fondness for the mathematics. In this branch he excelled. And this is per.
haps of all others most needful to the military man.
The habits of mind which it cultivates, the precision
of thought which is required in conducting the processes, the practice of confining the deductions to
the legitimate results of our reasoning, the habit of
admitting only known elements ag the basis, the
foundation on which we build the superstructure, is
of infinite value in the training of a military commande'. Those elements of mind which are required
in conducting the various processes of the demonstration of a proposition in the mathematics, are the
same as those employed in conducting a campaign.
The elements of the reasoning alone differ. In the
one case, they are first truths and the deductions
therefrom. In the other, they are the varying facts
and probabilities of the case, wherein the conclusions can never be more certain than the elements on
which tley are based. In that department of math



OF NAPOLEON.                   59
Fondness for history.  Plutarch's Lives.  Heroic poetry.  Homer.
ematics which embraces mechanics, civil engineering,
and gunnery, the military man derives that practical
knowledge which serves him in times of difficulty.
Napoleon became a perfect master of these branches,
and was never obliged to depend upon the knowledge of his subordinates in forming his great plans,
for his own acquirements were superior to the experts of the army.
He delighted also in the study of history. The
fabulous accounts of the origin of the nations recorded in profane history, and the veritable accounts
of the daring spirits who figured in those early times,
possessed for him indescribable charms. Plutarch's
Lives were his delight. In reading these he was introduced to the choicest spirits that have ever lived,
who acted their parts in the sunniest days of civilization, and who contributed, by their wisdom  and
bravery, to perpetuate the glory and renown of their
respective nations. He was fond of heroic poetry,
and read with the utmost avidity the great masters
of the art. Even at this early age he wrote to his
mother, " With my sword by my side and Homer in
my pocket, I hope to carve my way through the
world." The conduct of heroes and the fabled feats
of gods, as they were conceived in the glowing imaginations of the poets, nursed in his bosom the spirit
for lofty achievement. The enthusiasm with which




60              Tr E  BO  YHO)D
Remark of Count Paoli.      Too morose for a Frenchman.
he was inspired by his reading was manifest in all
his thoughts and conversation.  " Oh Napoleon,'"
exclaimed the old Count Paoli, " you do not at all
resemble the moderns. You belong only to the
heroes of Plutarch."
He was at this period of his boyhood intensely
studious. He was never eminent for his social qualities, though he was fond of the society of those who
could converse on topics that interested him. He
was always pointed and abrupt, and impatient with
those who could not be equally so.  On this account
his companions never regarded him as a favorite,
though his commanding abilities soon inspired respect. He was looked upon as too morose and
secluded in disposition for a Frenchman. His habits
of study contributed to this result. The usual boyish
sports and amusements at this period had no attractions for him. He was rarely found upon the play
ground. He preferred to spend his noon and evening hours in the library. The games of his companions could hardly rival the sports of gods and
heroes of which he could there read, or the bloody
encounters of contending hosts in their strife for victory, which he pursued with breathless in erest. He
not only mastered with surprising alacrity all the
studies of his class, but he devoured with eagerness
every thing upon history, politics and the practical




OF NAPOLEON.                   61
Extent of his information.   Studious habits confirmed.
arts that came in his wav. He was thus enabled to
commence life with the experience of all past ages
at his command. The remembrance of failures and
successes in other times, was the light by which his
feet were guided in pursuing the uncertain paths to
empire.
His studiousness and his laborious youth, bore
their proper fruits. His habits became confirmed,
and when in after years his position required of him
intense devotion to business, it was easy and natural
for him to apply himself, and accomplish almost
superhuman labors. The power which he acquired
of the undivided application of all his faculties to any
subject, gave him the ability to make every question
simple, and to decide with promptness in the most
critical circumstances. All his vast energies of mind
were by these means marshaled into the most complete subjection to his will, and like the battalions
of his army they were under entire control. The
acquisitions which he made during his school days
must have been very great; for his career in the
field commenced when he had scarcely arrived at
the age of manhood, and the ardor with which he
pursued it left little time in later years for study;
and in whatever position he was placed he evinced
unbounded knowledge. When he was made general-in-chief of the army, his associate consuls be



62             THE BOYHOOD
Child the father of the man. Incident of Dr. Franklin. Little brass cannon.
lieved that he would be satisfied with the management of affairs in the field. But at their first meeting he convinced them that he could and would
do every thing himself.  Education, government,
finance, were as familiar to him as the tactics of
a campaign.
The remark has often been repeated that the child
is father of the man. Those traits of character which
we notice in the youth, are usually the ones which
mark the conduct of mature years. It is related that
Dr. Franklin, when a small boy and was assisting his
father to salt a barrel of meat, asked him, when it
was finished, if he could not ask a blessing on the
whole barrel at once, and thus save the time of
doing "it every meal at the table. The mind that in
tender years could devise so ingenious a plan for economizing time, is the same that in maturity taught
us as a people the practice of economy, and has
stamped it upon us as a national peculiarity. One
of the playthings of Napoleon) when a child, was
a little brass cannon weighing about thirty pounds,
whose report probably sounded louder in his boyish ears than the whole park of heavy ordnance
that played upon the field of Waterloo. We can
fancy the great plans of battle and conquest which
he executed with that single little cannon. His
late biographer, Mr. Abbott, relates an incident




OF NAPOLEON.                    63
Incident related by Abbott.  Snow fortification.  Napoleon comnmands.
that occurred while at the military school which
marks his boyish propensities.
"The winter of 1774," says he, " was one of unusual severity. Large quantities of snow fell, which
so completely blocked up the walks that the students at Brienne could find but little amusement
without doors. Napoleon proposed that to beguile
the weary hours, they should erect an extensive fortification of snow, with intrenchments and bastions,
parapets, ravelins, and horn works. He had studied the science of fortification with the utmost diligence, and, under his superintendence, the works
were conceived and executed according to the strictest rules of art. The power of his mind now displayed itself. No one thought of questioning the
authority of Napoleon. He planned and directed,
while a hundred busy hands, with unquestioning
alacrity, obeyed his will. The works rapidly rose,
and in such perfection of science as to attract crowds
of the inhabitants of Brienne for their inspection.
Napoleon divided the school into two armies, oneo
being intrusted with the defense of the works, while
the other composed the host of the besiegers.  He
took upon himself the command of both bodies, now
heading the besiegers in the desperate assault, and
now animating the besieged to an equally vigorous
defense.  For -several weeks this mimic warfare con



64             THE  BOYHOOD
Instance of discipline.    Record of the Minister of War.
tinued, during which time many severe wounds were
received on both sides. In the heat of the battle
when the bullets of snow were flying thick and fast,
one of the subordinate officers, venturing to disobey
the commands of his general, Napoleon felled him
to the earth, inflicting a wound which left a scar for
life."
Napoleon remained five years at Brienne. It was
the custom to send annually from the twelve provincial schools, three of the best scholars in each, to
the military school at Paris. Napoleon was one of
the three, from his school, selected for that purpose.
From the fact that at the age of fifteen, the earliest
age at which any are admitted to this, the highest
military school of the nation, it is conclusive evidence of his great proficiency as a scholar. The selection of these candidates was made after a thorough
examination.  The following entryv in the minutes
of the examiners may be found in the records of the
Minister of War:-"State of the king's scholars eligible to enter into service, or to pass to the school
at Paris: Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon) born
15th August, 1769; in height five feet six and a
half inches; has finished his fourth season; of a
good constitution, health excellent, character mild,
honest, and grateful; conduct exemplary; has always distinguished himself by application to the




OF N APOLEON.                  65
Promoted to the school at Paris.        Luxury.
mathematics; understands history and geography
tolerably well; is indifferently skilled in merely
ornamental studies, and in Latin, in which he has
only finished his fourth course; would make an
excellent sailor; deserves to be passed to. the school
at Paris."
At the early age of fifteen the'plebeian and the
foreigner had won his way to the hiihest military
school of France. This school had been founded
expressly for the sons of the nobility. It was furnished with every appliance for the ease and luxury
of the young noblemen who were members of the
institution.  "'Each of the three huudred young
men assembled in this school had a servant to
groom his horse, to polish his weapons, to brush
his boots and to perform all other necessary menial
services. The cadet reposed on a luxurious bed,
and was fed with sumptuous viands." Such refinement as this was by no means congenial to the spirit
and habits of Napoleon. Had they been offered
him earlier in life, before his principles had become
fixed by reading and meditation, and before those
habits had become confirmed by necessity, he might
have been won by them. But it was now too late.
He regarded such luxury and effeminacy in a place
where young men were to be trained for one of the
most arduous and exposed professions known among




66             THE  BOYHOOD
Spartan habits. Difficult problem. Napoleon solves it. That iron will.
men, in which hardships and privations are unceasingly encountered, as a shame and a disgrace to the
nation. He yielded to none of the blandishments
that were thrown about him, but established the
same Spartan habits which he practiced in his more
humble position at Brienne. He rose early and retired late.  His maps, and charts, and'scientific
books were constantly before him. Here, as formerly, the mathematics were his favorite studies.
"On one occasion, a mathematical problem of great
difficulty having been proposed to the class, Napoleon in order to solve it secluded himself in his
room seventy-two hours; and he solved the problem." I mention this circumstance, to illustrate the
resolution and the will which characterized him as a
scholar. This same unflinching, unwavering determination- which he manifested in conquering difficult
problems in the mathematics, characterized his efforts
in solving many a knotty problem in his life's career.
MIany a day of darkness and difficulty dawned upon
him, whose shadows were dispelled by that iron will.
While at this school he was introduced to some of
the best society in Paris. The advantages which he
derived from this source were very great. The student, ambitious of success, faithful to his tasks, deaf
to the claims of society, shut up in his cell, and shut
out from the world, is apt to neglect that very im



OF NAPOLEON.                     67
Society. Habits of the student. Vital questions. Dancing and cards. IIis bearing.
portant part of his training which can only be acquired by mingling in the company of the educated
and refined. The habit of managing a conversation
with taste and ability, a becoming address, and ease
and unaffected suavity of manners, are among the
most important parts of an education, and no young
man should ever make any claims to culture till he
has acquired these. Napoleon was fond of elegant
society, though he felt that he could only spend a
limited portion of his time in it.  He delighted in
the company of the learned who were capable of
conversing upon those vital questions which are felt
in a nation's pulse, but he had no taste for dancing
and cards, and the so called fashionable amusements.
He believed that these were proper for those persons
whose minds were not big enough to find entertainment in any thing higher, but for him they had no
interest. In the circles in which he moved, he began
to make his influence felt.  Whoever came in contact with him, and saw the flash of his eye, and felt
the fiery energy of his bearing, and heard the opinions which he had to advance upon any subject that
chanced to be broached, never failed to perceive the
superiority of his mind, and the immense extent of
his attainments.*
* One evening, in the year 1790, there was a very brilliant party
il the drawing-rooms of M. Neckar, the celebrated financier. His en



68                 THE BOYHEOOD
Abbh Raynal.      Party at M. Neckar's.   Persons of distinction.
The Abbe Raynal, one of the greatest philosophers of the age, was among the first to perceive and
recognize the mature reflections and great acquiretertainmerts, embellished by the presence, as the presiding genius, of
his distinguished daughter, Madame de Stai61, were brilliant in the
extreme, assembling all the noted gentlemen and ladies in the motropolis. On the occasion to which we refer, the magnificent saloon was
filled with men who had attained the highest eminence in literature
and science, or who, in those troubled times, had ascended to posts of
honor and influence in the state. Mirabeaul was there, with his lofty
brow and thunder tones, proud of his very ugliness. Talleyrand moved
majestically through the halls, conspicuous for his gigantic proportions
and courtly bearing. Lafayette, rendered glorious as the friend of
Washington, and his companion in arms, had gathered around him a
group of congenial spirits. In the embrasure of a window sat Madame de Sta6l. By the brilliancy of her conversational powers she had
attracted to her side St. Just, who afterwards obtained such sanguinary
notoriety; Malesherbes, the eloquent and intrepid advocate of royalty;
Lalande, the venerable astronomer; Marmontel and Lagrange, illus
trious mathematicians, and others whose fame was circulating through
Europe. In one corner stood the celebrated Alfieri, reciting with
almost maniacal gesticulation his own poetry to a group of ladies.
The grave and philosophical Neckar was the center of another group
of care-worn statesmen, discussing the rising perils of the times. It
was an assemblage of all which Paris could afford of brilliance in rank,
talent, or station. About the middle of the evening, Josephine, the
beautiful, but then neglected wife of M. Beauharnais, was announced,
accompanied by her little son Eugene. Madame de Genelis soon
made her appearance, attended by the brother of the king; and, conscious of her intellectual dignity, floated through that sea of brilliance
recognized wherever she approached by the'abundance of perfiumery
which her dress exhaled. Madame Campan, the friend and companion
of Marie Antoinette, and other ladies and gentlemen of the court,
were introduced, and the party now consisted of a truly remarkable




OF NAPOL E ON                           69
Music.                                  Entrance of Napoleon.
ments of Napoleon; and.though but a boy the Abb6
delighted in his company, and often invited him  to
his table, where he met many of the leading literary
assemblage of distinguished men and women. Parisian gayety seemed
to banish all thoughts of the troubles of the times, and the hours were
surrendered to unrestrained hilarity. Servants were gliding through
the throng, bearing a profusion of refreshments, consisting of delicacies gathered from all quarters of the globe.
As the hour of midnight approached, there was a lull in the buzz
of conversation, and the guests gathered in silent groups to listen to a
musical entertainment. Madame de Sta`l took her seat at the piano,
while Josephine prepared to accompany her with the harp. They
both were performers of singular excellence, and the whole assembly
was hushed in expectation. Just as they had commenced the first
notes of a charming duet, the door of the saloon was thrown open,
and two new guests, entered the apartment. The one was an elderly
gentleman of very venerable aspect and dressed in the extreme of
simplicity. The other was a young man, very small, pale, and slender.
The elderly gentleman was immediately recognized by all as the Abbe
Raynal, one of the most distinguished philosophers of France; but no
one knew the pale, slender, fragile youth who accompanied him.
They both, that they might not interrupt the music, silently took seats
near the door. As soon as the performance was ended, and the ladies
had received those compliments which their skill and taste elicited, the
Abbd approached Madame de Sta6l, accompanied by his young protege, and introduced him as Monsieur Napoleon Bonaparte. Bonaparte I that name which has since filled the world, was then plebeian
and unknown, and upon its utterance many of the proud aristocrats
in that assembly shrugged their shoulders, and turned contemptuously
awxay to their conversation and amusement. Madame de Stadl had an
almost instinctive perception of the presence of genius. HIer attention
was instantly arrested by the few remarks with which Napoleon addressed her. They were soon engaged in very animated conversation.
Josephine and several other ladies joined them. The group grew




70                 TTHE BOYHOOD
Group about him.  Remark of Bishop of Autun.  Answer of Napoleon.
men  of the metropolis.  This afforded him  a rare
opportunity for improvement, and one to which boys
of his age are not often  admitted.   He heard  the
larger and larger as the gentlemen began to gather round the increasing circle. " Who is that young man who thus suddenly has gathered
such a group about him?" the proud Alfieri condescended to ask of
the Abb6 Raynal.  "He is," replied the Abbe, "a protege of mine,
and a young man of very extraordinary talent. He is very industrious, well read, and has made remarkable attainments in history, mathematics, and all military science."  Mirabeau came stalking across the
room, lured by curiosity to see what could be the source of the general
attraction. " Come here I come here I" said Madame de Sta6l with a
smile, and in an undertone. " We have found a little great man. I
will introduce him to you, for I know you are fond of men of genius."
Mirabeau very graciously shook hands with Napoleon and entered into
conversation with the untitled young man without assuming any airs
of superiority. A' group of distinguished men now gathered about
them, and the conversation became in some degree general.  The
Bishop of Autun commended Fox and Sheridan for having asserted
thlt the French army, by refusing to obey the orders of their superiors
to fire upon the populace, had set a glorious example to all the armies
of Europe; because, by so doing, they hal shown that men by be.
coming soldiers did not cease to be citizens.
" Excuse me, my lord," exclaimed Napoleon, in tones of earnestness
that arrested general attention, " if I venture to interrupt you; but as
I am an officer I must claim the privilege of expressing my sentiments.
It is true that I am very young, and it may appear presumptuous in
me to address so many distinguished men; but during the last three
years I have paid intense attention to our political troubles. I see
with sorrow the state of our country; I will incur censure rather than
pass unnoticed principles which are not only unsound, but which are
subversive of all government. As much as any one I desire to see all
abuses, antiquated privileges, and usurped rights annulled. Nay I as
I am at the commencement of my career, it will be my best policy, as




OF NAPOLEON.                            71
Unea3fness of Neckar and Lafayette.    Mirabean and Talleyrand.
best conversation which the  capital afforded.   He
made the personal acquaintance of those men who
were to guide the thought of the nation, and whose
well as my duty, to support the progress of popular institutions, and
to promote reform in every branch of the public administration. But
as in the last twelve months I have witnessed repeated alarming popular disturbances, and have seen our best men divided into factions
which threaten to be irreconcilable, I sincerely believe that now, more
than ever, a strict discipline in the army is absolutely necessary for the
safety of our constitutional government, and for the maintenance of
order. Nay I if our. troops are not compelled unhesitatingly to obey
the commands of the executive, we shall be exposed to the blind fury
of democratic passions, which will render France the most miserable
country on the globe. The ministry may be assured that, if the daily
increasing arrogance of the Parisian mob is not repressed by a strong
arm, and social order rigidly maintained, we shall see not only this
capital, but every other city in France thrown into a state of indescribable anarchy, while the real friends of liberty, the enlightened
patriots, now working for the best good of our country, will sink beneath a set of demagogues, who, with louder outcries for freedom on
their tongues, will be, in reality, but a horde of savages worse than
the Neros of old."
These emphatic sentences, uttered by Napoleon with an air of authority which seemed natural to the youthfull speaker, caused a profound sensation. For a moment there was a perfect silence in the
group, and every eye was riveted on the pale and marble cheek of
Napoleon.  Neckar and Lafayette listened with evident uneasiness
to his bold and weighty sentiments as if conscious of the perils which
his words so forcibly portrayed. MIirabeau nodded once or twice significantly to Talleyrand, seeming thus to say, " That is exactly the
truth." Some turned upon their heels, exasperated at this fearless
avowal of hostility to democratic progress. Alfieri, one of the proudest of aristocrats, could hardly restrain his- delight, and gazed with
amazement upon the intrepid young man. "Condorcet," says an eye



72                 THE BOYHOOD
One year at Paris.                     Examined by La Place.
literary productions " future generations will not willingly let die."  He became familiar with the correct
opinions of the actors in  the scenes in that great
drama which had already begun.
Napoleon remained but one year in the military
school at Paris. As the result of his first examination  he was recommended  for promotion, and was
consequently appointed an officer in the French
army at the early-age of sixteen. The mathematical section of the examination was conducted by La
Place, the  author of the  Mecanique  Cdleste.   To
come out successful before such an examiner, was
indeed  no  ordinary  honor.   In  history, Monsieur
Karruglion, after listening with  admiration  to  his
answers, and the elucidations which he gave of the
various topics which were broached, wrote in the
witness, "nearly made me cry out by the squeeze which he gave my
hand at every sentence uttered by the pale, slender, youthful speaker."
The young Napoleon, then but twenty-one years of age, thus suddenly
became the most prominent individual in that whole assembly. Whereever he moved, many eyes followed him. He had none of the airs
of a man of fashion. lie made no attempts at displays of gallantry.
A peaceful melancholy seemed to overshadow him, as, with dn abstracted air, he passed through the glittering throng, without being in
the slightest degree dazzled by its brilliance. The good old Abbe
Raynal appeared quite enraptured in witnessing this triumph of his
young proteg. —AbbotPs Napoleon, vol. i., page 36.-Narrative communicated to Chambers' Edinburg Journal 6b an Italian gentleman who
was preeent at the interview at M. Neckar's.




OF NAPOL E ON.                   73
Remark of M. Karruglion. Lieutenant in the army. Ambition not satisfied.
records after the entry of Napoleon's name, "A Corsican by character and by birth. This young man
will distinguish himself in the world if fortune favors."  He might have written with greater propriety, " This young man will distinguish himself
whether fortune favors or not."  He had thus far in
life been successful at every point, and he had not
shared very bountifully in fortune's favors, and in
after years he never left any thing for fortune to do
for him. That qualifying phrase might have been
very appropriately placed after the names of some
young men, but it stands with an ill grace after the
signature of Napoleon Bonaparte.
At this point closes the boyhood of Napoleon.
He is no longer a scholar of fortune, fighting his way
up from obscurity, but a lieutenant in that army
of Frenchmen whose glory has sounded through the
world. He now lays aside the humble garb of the
student, and assumes the military costume of an officer, the heavy boots, the cocked hat, the buttoned
coat and epaulettes. There was much in the position
to which Napoleon had now attained to flatter the
pride and satisfy the ambition of a youth of seventeen, and it is feared that there are few, who would
not have considered their education complete, that
the object of their strife was now attained, and that
they might give themselves up to the ease and enjoy4




74             THE BOYHOOD
Studious habits continued.           Lesson taught.
ment which their position as officers would yield.
But this honor was far from satisfying the ambition
of Napoleon.  His habits of study had been laborious and austere, he labored with indefatigable zeal,
he had made vast acquirements, he was petted and
flattered, and his company was sought by some of
the first literary men in the world. But there was
yet more that he wished to learn, and when he was
ordered with his regiment to Lyons, no sooner were
the troops quartered, than he sought out a room
where he would be secure from interruption, and
renewed those habits'of laborious study which he
had been accustomed to while at school. Instead of
parading the streets to show off his plume and his
epaulettes to the young and the admiring, he bent
as steadily to his tasks as he had done previous to
his prom'otion.
The education of Napoleon teaches the world one
useful lesson, one which our youth especially need
to learn. We are apt in pursuing a course of study
to dally and procrastinate.  Some one has said that
" man is naturally indolent, as lazy as he can be."
At no time in life do we yield so readily to ease as
during the period of mental and physical growth,
and this is the time usually allotted to study. Tasks
to be wrought out by brain work, look formidable,
and we often shrink from them on very slight pre



OF NAPOLEON.                   75
Reflections.              Influences against his success.
texts. Not so with Napoleon. He shrunk from no
tasks, he left no duty undone, and he has shown the
world the virtue of working while the day lasts.
Had Napoleon known his destiny from the outset,
he could not have labored more faithfully in preparation for its accomplishment. This example speaks
to every one who hopes to be a leader in the world,
"Go and do thou likewise."
In concluding this survey of the boyhood of Na,poleon, there are some reflections which naturally
flow from the subject that may be of interest to us
as teachers who have much yet to learn, and whose
business it is to direct the education of others. If
the mariner on an unknown sea can pick up the
chart of a fellow navigator who sailed those seas
before him, he feels a decree of assurance that he
can go forward in his voyage in safety.  The education of Napoleon was a success. It is not often that
we know the history of one so triumphant. There
are some important lessons to be drawn from it.
From  the beginning the probabilities of success
were all against him. Hee was a poor boy, an orphan, and a foreigner, unable to speak the French
language, and without influential friends to advocate
his cause. There were only twelve of the military
schools in a population of thirty millions. The number of applicants would naturally be very great, and




76             THE BOYHOOD
Triumphs.      Review of his success.  Reason for it.
the sons of the rich and powerful would be most
likely to succed in obtaining the place. The same
motives and influences would operate against his
advancement to the school at Paris, where the difficulties would be still greater on account of the aristocratic and exclusive style in which it was established. But notwithstanding the apparent obstacles
that stood in his way, he invariably triumphed over
them, and the merit of his triumphs is due to himself. He won his way from one position to another
because he had first deserved the promotions. He
was sent from the humble island of Corsica to the
school at Brienne, because the culture he had already
acquired attracted the attention of the governor and
convinced him that'the boy would honor the place.
Again, he is selected as one of the three from among
all his associates for a place in the highest school at
Paris; and here he is promoted because of his great
proficiency in his studies, and the unusual maturity
of his mind. When we become familiar with his
history during those five years, we feel satisfied that
if the selection were made according to merit, the
choice' wisely fell upon Napoleon. At the age of
fifteen, that very critical period in the life of youth,
when most boys are " sowing their wild oats," we find
him-the companion of philosophers and sages. Without any other influence to recommend him or secure




OF N        A P  LE O N.       77
Early proficiency.                 Faithful to duty.
an introduction to the company of the learned, than
that which his own intelligence had created for him,
he wins his way to the best of French society. A
foreigner and of obscure birth though he be, and in
the midst of the nobility who are ever inclined to
look upon those beneath them with contempt, he is
welcomed with open hands to their circles, because
his good sense and great learning made him the light
and ornament of any society which he chose to grace.
And finally, at an age when most young men are
thinking about beginning their education, he is examined by some of the first scholars that the world
has ever produced, is pronounced a proficient, and
is recommended for appointment as an officer in
the army. AWe feel satisfied, when we read this account, that there was no favoritism, or under current
influence to which he owed his advancement, — for
the poor boy had no means of securing such interests in his behalf,-but that he received his just
deserts.
In this simple recital of the fortunes of this obscure boy, we witness the happy issue of a faithful
discharge of duty.  It is the most complete and
triumphant illustration of the success which follows
unremitting studiousness that we have on record.
He is noted for being a bright boy, because -le has
improved the feeble talents of childhood, and has got




78             THE BOYHOOD
Law of toil and recompense.  Veracity vindicated in scholarship.
a little more knowledge than other boys of his age.
He moves among his fellow students. inspiring their
veneration for him as a prodigy of learning, because
he toiled when they slept, and he meditated when
they squandered time. Hie acquired the respect and
friendship of his superiors in knowledge and years,
because he had diligently pursued those researches
in which well cultivated minds delight. And those
habits of study and toil which we see.rewarded
with success in the boyhood of Napoleon, are the
habits that will be rewarded with success in any boy
of fair ability. There is no well directed exertion
which does not sooner or later bear its proper fruits.
This law of toil and recompense holds good in the
physical world, in business, but especially is its
veracity vindicated in the history of distinguished
scholarship. There is no man of ordinary mental
endowments, who can possibly fail of becoming
eminent as a scholar, if he puts forth eminent exertions.
We hear much about the genius of Napoleon, and
we are treated to flaming dissertations on this undetermined specimen of the human species, which naturalists are unable to classify, whose creation was
looked upon as a miracle of creative power, and
which ewas especially demanded by the French nation, as though he had come upon this earth,




OF' NAPOLEON.                            79
Getnius of Napoleon.  Power of endurance.    Cokncil of finance.
"Summoned direct from chaos and old night,
By Jove's power fledged, and ready for the flight."
But when we become familiar with his boyhood, the
genius of Napoleon ceases to be a mystery. We
wonder from  whence his power and his success, but
the wonder is how the result could have been otherwise.   The  fact about the  genius of Napoleon  is
simply this: he possessed by nature good common
sense, an unusual degree of physical and mental endurance, and an insatiable ambition. And only this.
He seemed to  think* and  never tire, to labort and
* It was nearly midnight when Napoleon, accompanied by Josephine, entered the darkened streets of Paris on his return from Vienna.
IHe drove directly to the Tuilleries, and ascended the stairs, with hasty
strides, to his cabinet. Without undressing, or even throwing himself upon a couch for a moment of repose, he sent for the Minister of
Finance. The whole of the remainder of the night was passed in a
rigid examination of the state of the bank of France. The eagle eye
of the emperor immediately penetrated the labyrinth of confusion in
which its concerns were involved. The next day at eleven o'clock the
whole Council of Finance was assembled. Napoleon kept them incessantly occupied during an uninterrupted session of nine hours. Thus
energetically, without allowing himself a moment for repose, he entered
upon a series of labors unparalleled in the history of mankind.-Abbott's Nalpoleon, vol. i, page 487.
f The miseries of his progress in Egypt were extreme. The air is
crowded with pestiferous insects; the glare of the sand weakens
most men's eyes, and blinds many; water is scarce and bad; and the
country has been swept clean of man, beast, and vegetable. Under
this torture even the gallant spirits of such men as Murat and Lannes
could not sustain themselves; they trod their cockades in the sand.




80                 THE BOYHOOD
Progress in Egypt.                  Best entitled to his position.
never be weary. These elements of character secured him success in every step of his career, from
early boyhood to the last of his great deeds.  There
is no mystery about his wonderful fortune; for there
is not a position in the whole course of his life, to
which, if we become acquainted with the steps that
led him to it, we must not acknowledge he was
above all others the best entitled.  His knowledge,
his energy, and his perseverance so far excelled those
who might be considered to come in competition with
him, that the scale at once turns in favor of Napoleon, -and there is no propriety in questioning  tlhe
decision.
Of the moral and religious training of Napoleon,
we kno.w  but little.  Indeed  I am  inclined to  the
opinion that he never had much.  We know  that
he had a kind mother, who cherished with masculine austerity, probity, and honor, and virtue.  "Left
The common soldiers asked with angry murmurs if it was here the
general designed to give them their seven acres? He alone was superior to all evils. Such was the happy temperament of his frame
that while others, after having rid themselves of their usual dress, were
still suffused in perpetual floods of perspiration, and the hardiest found
it necessary to give two or three hours every mid-day to sleep, Napoleon altered nothing; wore his uniform buttoned up as at Paris; never
showed one bead of sweat on his brow, nor thought of repose except
to lie down in his cloak the last at night and start up the first in the
morning,.-Lockhart's Life of Ncapoleon, vol. i., page 116.




OF NAPOLEON.                   81
France had no religion.            The guillotine.
without a guide, without support," says Napoleon,
" my mother was obliged to take the direction of
affairs upon herself. But the task was not above
her strength. She managed every thing, provided
for every thing, with a prudence which could neither
have been expected from her sex nor from her age.
Ah, what a woman I Where shall we look for her
equal? She watched over us with a solicitude unexampled. Every low sentiment, every ungenerous
affection, was discouraged and discarded. She suffered nothing but that which was grand and elevated
to take root in our youthful understandings. She abhorred falsehood, and would not tolerate the slightest
acts of disobedience. None of our faults were overlooked.  Losses, privations, fatigue, had no effect
upon her. She had the energy of a man combined
with the gentleness and delicacy of a woman." During the time that he was at the military schools,
France had no religion. The French people worshiped at the shrine of base Indulgence under the
name of Liberty. The Sabbath was abolished and
the Bible burned, and every tenth day was appointed
by the government as a day of rest. The guillotine
was in active operation, and the blood of her best
patriots flowdd unceasingly from it. The king was
sent to the bloc'k. Anarchy was rampant. Disorder
reigned supreme. Amid all this confusion, Napoleon
4*




82              THE BOYHOOD
Saying of Dernosthenes.           Napoleon successful.
remained steady at his tasks, and did not suffer this
frenzy to disturb the equanimity of his mind or bate
one tittle of his devotion to his studies; and amid
the corruptions of that corrupt age he escaped unstained. His mother's instructions in his youth were
the guiding principles of his manhood.  -Ie had an
intuitive sense of honor and justice, upon which he
acted.
It is good to trace the life of one who has been
successful.  It is instructive to go back to boyhood,
and examine the education and habits which serve as
the foundation stones on which the superstructure is
built.  Demosthenes has very pointedly observed,
"that in common life success is the greatest good,
and that the next is conduct, without which the first
must be of short continuance." It is certainly the
best fortune for which we can hope, to be successful
in our efforts. Often, as the world goes, the good is
left to obscurity and the undeserving triumphs. But
it is still a source of satisfaction to have the assurance in one's own breast that he has deserved success. It serves to cultivate a good companionship
with self. It enables us to merit our own esteem and
confidence. But he who never makes one honest
effort, and feels no enkindling aspiration that can
inspire a hope, who is satisfied to live without success and without deserving it, is of all men the most




OF NAPOLEON.                  83
Conclusion.
brutish and miserable. He neither enjoys the applause of his fellow-men nor of himself. Few men
have been so successful as Napoleon. His was indeed a brilliant career. His triumphs in the cabinet
and in the field, are among the most reniarkable examples of the sublime in action. The iron will of
that one man aroused all Europe in arms to oppose
him, and in the terrible struggles which he inspired
is seen the "compacted might of genius." But there
are other fields for triumphs than those of war; and
whenever we would encourage the youthful mind to
put forth effort in preparation for triumphs, we can
point with pride and confidence to the Boyhood of
the humble Corsican




LECTU R E  III.
THE POWER OF SPOKEN THOUGHT.
NJANY  years ago, the streets of London were.IVt  filled with people, wending their way to
Kensington Common.  The gathering multitudes
were composed of a motley throng from every class
in that crowded city. The rich and the poor, the
philosopher and the sweating mechanic, the poet and
the street singer, proud lords and gay ladies, peers
of the realm and ministers of state, —all eager and
anxious, were there.  The trees and fences, and
stages built for the purpose,.and chariot wheels, and
the backs of gaily caparisoned horses, were crowded
with the living throng. The eager countenances of
these waiting thousands betokened some great occasion. The pride of dress and the beauty of countenance added gayety to the scene. Yet there was
no sound of martial music or rolling drum. There
were no soldiers with gay plumes and epaulets, and
red coats and glistening bayonets. There were no
"white-winged" tents; no amphitheater as at ancient
Rome, where the wretched captive chiefs were bru



THE POWER OF SPOKE N TlOUG H T. 85
Preaching of Whitefield.       Effect of his eloquence.
tally murdered in gladiatorial contests for the sport
of a Roman holiday. This throng were attracted
by no motives like these. They had come to hear a
plain man preach. They had come to hear Whitefield preach.
Patiently they stand in the open field,- in God's
first temple, whose only canopy is the blue vault
above, whose inlaid floor is the bright green earth,
and encounter the press and the crowd, to hear
the accents from the lips of him who was thought
unworthy of gorgeous churches, where the worshipers
recline upon velvet cushions, and where the mellow
light streams through richly stained windows. They
had come to hear a very common subject, but from
the lips of no ordinary man. The-words from his
tongue reach every ear, touch every heart. What
is in his countenance is reflected in theirs. Now indignation burns on every lip. Anon their streaming
eyes attest the violence of their emotions. And now
hope smiles through their tears. Thus he sways that
vast assembly to and fro upon the stormy waves
of his eloquence. It is not alone the tender-hearted
girl that weeps, but the stout heart shares unrestrained the feeling which moves prince and peasant
alike. That emotion that comes unbidden, that susceptibility which nature has given all her children,
responds to the touch of that master spirit.  And




86             THE POWER OF
Speech reported.  Carefully written article.  Tables of stone.
the voice of an eternal Providence, which for a
time infidelity may be deaf to, and which debauchery
and crime may drown, must still be heard.
The power of Mr. Whitefield's preaching was very
great. It is unusual that we meet with an exhibition of the force and attractions of eloquence, and
of its despotic power over every class of mind and
character, such as was displayed by this wonderful
man.  It illustrates the influence  which  spoken
thought is capable of effecting. In general, it is far
superior to written thought. If a speech of unusual
interest has been delivered on some public occasion,
the report of that speech, when published in the
journals of the day, will attract attention, when an
article of equal interest, and penned with the greatest care, is passed by without notice.
The reason of this preference is obvious.  We are
fond of identifying t the thoughts with the speaker
who uttered them, and the occasion which called
them forth. Abstract thought, unaccompanied with
the incidents of its origin and promulgation, has few
attractions except for those who are fond of pure intellections.  The laws of Gcd, when written upon
tables of stone, were dead and powerless.  The
nations soon fell back into idolatry; they became
oblivious to every element of religious feeling, and
worshiped and served the creature more than the




SPOK E N THIOU GHT.               87
Reinark of Macaulay.  The sublime.  Definition of Longinus.
Creator. But when God in the personation of Jesus
Christ came upon earth, and in the likeness of man,
"spake as never man spake," and went about doing
good, then the will of our Maker became a living
power, before which the pride of philosophy and
the blindness of superstition yielded, and gave place
to religion pure and undefiled.  "It was," says
Macaulay, "before Deity embodied in human form,
walking among men, partaking of their infirmities,
leaning on their bosoms, weeping over their graves,
slumbering in their mangers, bleeding on. the cross,
that the prejudices of the Academy, and the pride
of the Portico, and the fasces of the lictor and the
swords of thirty legions were humbled in the dust."
The feeling which inspires the orator, is the most
exalted of any that sways the bosom of man. In the
moment of sublime conception and overwhelming
emotion, he feels, in common with his hearers, more
than words can express. At such a moment words
become powerless, and feeling, rising above such
poor exponents of thought, reigns supreme.  This
is the sublime. For " the sublime," says Longinus,
"not only persuades, but even throws an audience
into transports. In most cases it is wholly in our
own power to resist or to yield to persuasion. But
the sublime, endued with strength irresistible, strikes
down and triumphs over every hearer. The sublime




88            T iE POWER OF
Eloquence defined.   Dr. Campbell.     Of a critic.
when seasonably addressed, with the rapid force of
lightning has borne down all before it, and shown
at one stroke the compacted might of genius."
The faculties which eloquence calls into exercise
are the most exalted of which a human soul is possessed. Reason, imagination, taste,-those powers
that are last developed, and which are the crowning
graces of the mind,-are the agencies of the orator.
But even these, without the inspiration of a spirit
burning with an ardent purpose, are'powerless.
These faculties must arouse corresponding ones in
the minds of those who are addressed. The thoughts
which are in the spirit of one man, must be transferred to the bosoms of other men.  The electric
chords which vibrate so musically in- the breast of
the speaker must telegraph to those addressed.  The
flashing eye, the burning lip, the beating heart, between speaker and.hearer must be reciprocal.
Rhetoricians have attempted to define eloquence.
But the most truthful and refined definition can have
little relevancy to him  who has not felt it.  Dr.
Campbell defines it as "that art by which the discourse is adapted to its end; and that all the ends of
speaking are reducible to four; every speech being
intended to enlighten the understanding, to please
the imagination, to move the passions, or to influence
the will."  This is the definition of a critic, rather




SPOKEN  THOUGHT.                    89
Quintilian.          Cicero.           Washinton.
than that of a master of the art. It is eloquence
adroitly quartered and carefully dissected.  It is a
definition which may be abstractly appreciated but
one which would convey no idea to him who had
never felt it. Quintilian says that eloquence is " &ientia bene dicendi," the art of speaking well, which' is
as dull and lifeless as it is brief.  This is'also the
definition of a critic.,, But Cicero says, " Optiinus
orator qui dicendo, animos audientium, et docet, et delectat, et permovet" —he is the best orator who in speaking, both teaches, and delights, and greatly moves the
minds of his auditory. This is the definition of one
who has felt all that he describes, who has portrayed
the impression drawn from his own consciousness.
It was inspired by the remembrance of stirring
scenes in which he had been a leading actor; the
courts of justice where he had plead, the struggles
of the comnmonwealth for life when surrounded by
conspirators, and the senate house where Caesar fell.
But there is no definition, however pointed or lifelike, that can convey aniy adequate idea. The best
of them  are merely formula, to which he who has
heard and felt may refer his impressions. When
Washington, after having led the feeble army of his
country for eight long years, struggling on against
every disheartening circumstance, and hoping even
against hope, at last had triumphed over his open




90             THE  POWER  OF
Washington taking leave of his officers.   Ilis sword.    Bossnet.
foes in the field, and the more dangerous ones who
in secret were plotting his overthrow, when peace at
length came, and he felt that his services were no
longer needed, he went to the hall of Congress to deliver up his sword. He saw about him those who
had stood by him with-their counsels through many
dark and troublous days. With a voice faltering
with emotion at the remembrance of the past, he
spoke those sublime and pathetic words that are dear
to every lover of his country. But when he came to
take leave of his officers, those who had been his
companions in arms, who had shared with him the
privations of the camp and the carnage of the battle
field, and had been faithful to the last, the struggling
emotions quivered on his lips; he could not speak,
his feelings were too strong for utterance, and he
pressed the hand of each in silence and departed.
This was eloquence. It was speaking without speak.
ing. It was the height of the sublime.
But one month from the time Bossuet pronounced
his funeral oration over the corpse of the royal
mother, he was called to perform  the same solemn
rite over the young and beautiful Princess Henrietta,
"so highly stationed, so greatly gifted, so widely
admired, and so generally loved. The idol of the
world!  The pride of her august family I The delight of all who approached her 1" As he described




SPOKEN  T H OUGHT.                 91
Funeral oration over the Princess Henrietta.  Marseilles Hymn.
the short but brilliant career of the princess, every
heart was borne along upon the full tide of his
words. But the interest which the successive events
of her life excited, when portrayed in the lovely light
of his well-known eloquence, only served to make
the catastrophe to which he was approaching more
terrible, and as he came to utter that passage, " when.
like a peal of thunder, the dreadful words-' Henrietta is dying-Henrietta is dead,'-burst upon us,
nothing was discernible but grief, despair, and the
image of death;" the effect was overwhelming; the
whole audience rose from their seats, and Bossuet
himself was so much affected that for some moments
he was unable to speak.
It is only by experience in those emotions which
eloquence is capable of producing that we can form
any conception of its nature. He who has felt it,
and has a heart to appreciate it, alone has the key
that unlocks the mystery of its power. There are
certain tones of the voice that have a wonderful
effect upon the human soul. It is said that the singing of the Marseilles Hymn in the streets of Paris
brought on the French Revolution.  Those electric
tones which thrilled the nerves of the young Frenchman, which filled his heart with desire for glory,
which filed his passions with hatred and revenge for
his oppressors, and which inspired a love for liberty




92              THE  POWE'R  OF
Speaker an exponent of thought. Incident of the clergyman. Demosthenes.
and equal rights, nerved his soul to fight in their defense-to bare his bosom to that terrible death-storm
that swept the continent of Europe-and with his
dying breath exclaim"Ye sons of France, awake to glory I"
The speaker is but the exponent of the thoughts
and feelings of those whom  he addresses.  If his
feelings are thoroughly aroused, if he is fully in earnest, he will be likely to imbue the breasts of his
hearers with the emotions of his own heart.  "A
clergyman of our country states that he once told an
affecting incident to Mr. Whitefield, relating it, however, with but the ordinary feeling and beauty of a
passing conversation; when afterward, on bearing
Whitefield preach, up came his own story, narrated
by the preacher in the pulpit with such native pathos and power that the clergyman himself, who had
furnished Whitefield with the dry bones of illustration, found himself weeping like a child."*
It is interesting to observe with what varied effect
different men may pronounce the same sentence.
Every school-boy has read how Demosthenes, after
having becn unsuccessful in his first attempt at public
speaking, retiring from the assembly in despair, was
* Todd's " Girl at School," page 141.




SPOKEN  THO UGHT.                   93
Dull speaker.   Archbishop Whately.   Sympathy with the speaker.
met by a friend who spoke to him some encouraging
words, and requesting him  to recite a few sentences
of a familiar poet, repeated them in tones so distinct,
and with such force of utterance, that Demosthenes
could not believe it the same passage.
There are some public speakers who come before
us and read beautifully written pieces. The argument is well planned, and constructed upon sound
principles. The reasoning is perfectly accurate. The
imagery is beautifully wrought, and introduced where
Archbishop Whately himself would approve. Combined, it is a perfect piece, and its delivery is well
toned. And yet, faultless as it is, it fails to attract
attention.  No interest is excited.  The speaker does
not enlist our sympathies. WVe strive in vain to accompany him  upon the velvet lawn he treads.  The
monotony induces stupor.  It is by an effort that we
arouse to a sense of the proprieties of the occasion,
and we are relieved when the speaker closes his discourse,
"So coldly sweet, so deadly fair."
The contrast is agreeable when we are brought
into sympathy with one who inspires us with a fervor of feeling which we can not resist. His words
come warm  from a feeling heart.  He is full of passion as well as argument arid imacgery.  He not only
teaches, but he greatly moves the minds of his hear



94             THE  POWER OF
Speaker believes his own words.  Incident of the farinmr.
ers. That feeling which he possesses he transfers to
thern. Our minds are taken captive; we hear every
word; we watch every action; we laugh when he
laughs; we weep when he weeps. We feel no fati'ue, no weariness, and we regret when he is
through that he has no more to say.
Thought in the hands of such a man has life and
power. We feel in his presence as though he were
the ruling spirit; we realize the value of his thoughts
as he does himself. But it often happens that the
impression is felt among those who are endeavoring
to listen, that the speaker himself is not interested in
what he is saying, that he does not appreciate the
force of his own words, and leaves it doubtful
whether he believes them.  It is related that a
farmer in the country once had a friend visiting him
from the city, and on the Sabbath took him  to
church with him.  When they were at home again
and seated by the fire, the old man, fond of having
his minister praised, asked his guest how he liked
the preaching. The friend replied, "tolerably well."
The old man, piqued at the slur cast upon the minister, turned with some warmth and inquired, "Did
he not tell the truth?"  "Yes," answered his friend,
"he told the truth, and he would have told the truth
had he got up and declared all the forenoon that his
name was John."




S P O KEN:  THOUG HT.                95
vohiw, of the preacher.    Hindrances.   RIemark of Mr. Giles.
The minister of the gospel has, perhaps, of all
other classes of public speakers, the most difficultes
and, discouraging circumstances to encounter.  Dr.
Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, lays down
this general principle: "that the more mixed the
auditory, the greater is the difficulty of speaking
with effe( t; and that we may justly reckon a Christian congregation in a populous and flourishing city,
where there is a great variety in rank and education,
of all audiences the most promiscuous."  TWhen the
Spirit of God moves the heart of the preacher of the
gospel, when he fully appreciates the greatness of his
calling, when he feels the stirring nature of the message which he is delegated to proclaim to the world,
and the consequences which must result from  his
labors, there can be no mission on earth more inspiring. But this inspiration does not always operate
upon the followers of the' humble fishermen. The
ministry are human, and are subject to the weaknesses and depressions of spirit that are incident to
us all; and the trials and difficulties which they have
to encounter often press upon them with overwhelming power. Mr. Giles, in his essay on the pulpit, observes that "the necessity of periodical composition
is, in itself alone, no slight aggravation of ministerial
toil. Who, that has ever experienced the necessity
of stated intellectual preparation, will not understand




96             THE  POWER  OF
Other professions.                   The Lawyer.
this?  The head may be heavy with bodily disease,
or the heart sick with inward grief; the pen may
tremble in the hand, and the eye grow dim with sorrow; but the shadow is already upon his imagination and the weekly sermon must be ready. Alas!
the tale of brick must be forthcoming, and often
there is not wherewith to make it."
If the preacher of the gospel is highly educated,
his task may seem to be easy. But even education
acts as a clog upon the passions. Protracted contemplation wears the brain, and eats away upon the vital
energies. Intense application of the mental faculties sometimes operates to smother emotion, and to
deaden the sympathies. The fastidious cultivation
of the style may depress the devotional affections.
Of the other professions in which public speaking
forms a part of the duties, there are circumstances
which render the labor less arduous and trying.
The pleader at the bar has only a bench of judges,
or a jury of twelve men to address, whose characters
he may individually study, whose prejudices he may
appeal to, whose vanity he may flatter, and whose
sympathies he may enlist. The circumstances of the
case awaken interest, and the anxiety of the client
spurs him on-to exertion. When the excitement of
a term of court is over, which has served to quicken
his powers, he enjoys periods of relaxation from the




SPOKEN  rTHOUGHT.                  97
The Legislator.                  Orator must first feel.
drudgery of public speaking. The legislator has a
body of equals before whom he speaks, who can
readily apprehend and digest his opinions, and whose
attention he can easily secure. The excitement of
debate is admirably fitted to arouse his talents, and
draw forth the fires of eloquence. Often he knows
not when he is to speak till the emergency is upon
him, and the principles of his party, with which he
is at all times familiar, demand his aid.
But whatever may be the character of the audience, the subject of discourse, or the circumstances
of the speaker himself, it is a matter of the first importance-that he should thoroughly feel and understand what be has to say. For we always conclude,
whether it be the minister of the gospel or the member of Congress, the lawyer or the lecturer, if he
fails to impress his hearers, that the divinity does
not move in his own soul. It is necessary for a
speaker to realize fully the importance of what he
has to communicate, to be desirous that the minds
of his hearers may be precisely in that state in which
he finds his own. When he can open his discourse
with this feeling, he may consider it as a sure indication that he is to succeed, that he will in some
way reach their hearts with his words. But there
are too many men who attempt to perform the offices of public speaking, like the character whom
5




98             THE  POWER OF
Shakspeare's orator.             Speak from a full heart.
ShaksDeare describes, "Who speaks an infinite deal
of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His
reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels
of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them;
and when you have them  they are not worth the
search."
He who would influence men and make them of
his mind, in these days so characterized by hurry
and commotion, of point blank directness and lightning speed, must speak from a full heart. He must
pour forth his words as though he meant men should
believe them. The hearer expects this, and he will
not be induced to take his attention from those
thoughts which haunt his brain, unless the speaker
presents him something of sufficient importance to
recall him from wandering meditations. Listlessness
and inattention on the part of the hearer speak in a
language no less audible than words,
"If you would have me weep, begin the strain."*
It has often been remarked, that it is not the
speaker whose opinions are most weighty, or whose
speech has most intrinsic merit, that always produces
the greatest influence. It is an observation that is
* " —-- Si vis me fiere, dolendum est
Primum ipse tibi.i'




SPOKEN THOUGHT.                 99
Combination of gifts.           Language of emotion.
often repeated, that if Mr. A's address could have
been delivered by Mr. B3, it would have been excellent. There is a happy combination of gifts which
seem to fit some men to be eloquent. We listen with
admiration to whatever they have to say, if it be
but a simple announcement.  If we seek for the
secret of their skill, we must find it, if at all, in our
emotional nature. Eloquence is the work of the
emotions. A thought, to deserve the name of being eloquent, must originate in emotion and must
terminate in emotion.  The voice is the agency by
which this effect is produced.  The tones of the
voice, though they do not express words, are still
capable of being understood, and of producing an
effect upon the mind. Every person in this assembly
might speak in a language unknown to the others;
and yet we could readily distinguish whether it were
in joy or anger. A screech of anguish or of fear
causes every one to start. The infant too young to
talk, will make its wants and feelings known quite
as successfully by its varying tones of voice,-from
those of unbounded pleasure to uncontrollable grief,.-as it can in later years by the use of words.
These tones constitute the language of emotion.
It is by means of th-ese'that feelings- of extreme delight or anguish are made known. The man who is
overjoyed does not give utterance to his feelings in




100           r  E POWER OF
Secret of orator's power.          David Garrick.
words, but he bursts forth in the full tones of laughter. Whereas he who is suffering intense pain expresses it by moans and weeping. This language of
the emotions is easily communicated. We may hear
a person laugh. He laughs from a soul full of the
risible emotion; and although we know  not the
occasion of his joy, yet we feel like laughing too.
On the contrary, we always feel sad when we approach the bed of a sick person and hear the voice
of anguish from the sufferer. In the skillful use of
these tones of emotion lies the secret of the orator's
power.
Perhaps no man ever understood the compass
and expressiveness of the human voice better than
David Garrick.  His quick, intuitive spirit had
threaded all the secret mazes and windings of the
human heart. And by those silver tones of his, as
by the wand of the magician, he could "make
the past present, and- the distant near." He could
take the minds of men and lead them on in what
track he would. It was true he was an actor, and
spoke the thoughts of others. Yet it was praise
enough for him, that he drew from those productions
which graced the stage, sparks of genius, which to
the reader's eye would have ever remained unappreciated. In him was seen the character which he
represented, in greater grandeur and majesty than it




SPOKEN  THOUGHT.                101
The verse of Shakspeare.    Lear.  Othello.  Macbeth.  Cwsar.
had ever appeared to the poet's eye rolling in its
finest freinzy. The delighted author saw his thoughts
take shapes which he had never himself fully realized. The verse of Shakspeare was his delight. And
those beautiful and majestic words would never have
fallen upon the ear with half their sweetness and
their power, had it not been for the tongue of Garrick.
And yet he once declared that he would give a hundred pounds, if he could only speak the word "Oh!"
as Whitefield did. In this he was conscious of his
inability. The training and course of thought of the
two had been widely different. Garrick was indeed
familiar with all the horrors of life. He could feel
and act and express the agony and madness of Lear,
the jealousy of Othello, the writhings of Macbeth
under the consciousness of guilt, and the imperial
majesty of Caesar. But the imagination of Whitefield had traveled on beyond the grave.  He had
not only contemplated the passions which rend the
bosom while living, and the agonies and struggles of
the death scene, but he could in fancy accompany
the soul to its destiny in the eternity beyond. In
view of the tortures of the lost, which were to him
ever present realities, he could but warn the living
in exclamations deep-mouthed and awful.
Few men of modern times have produced so great
an effect by preaching the gospel as did Whitefield.




102            THE P OWER OF
Anecdote of Lord Chesterfleld,
It is related that on a certain occasion when he was
speaking to an immense assembly in the open air,
Lord Chesterfield came to hear him. He drove as
near to the speaker as he possibly could, and remained seated in his carriage. White-field was describing the condition and final fate of the sinner,
who refused to'listen to the warnings and entreaties
of his friends, and compared him to one who is suspended over a yawning gulf, reaching forth for whatever object meets his view, regardless of his peril.
Chesterfield was leaning forward from his carriage to
catch every syllable; and the preacher represents the
friends of the deluded man coming to show him his
danger. They point him  to the chasm  below and
the brittle thread by which he is suspended. But he
refuses to hear them, and struggles and grasps for
the objects about him that please his fancy. The
thread wears away and begins to break, till he is held
but by a single fiber. His friends beg and entreat;
he turns from them for his pleasure-the thread snaps
-he falls.  At this word, Chesterfield exclaimed,
"My God, he's gone!" —forgetting the proprieties of
the occasion, with all his sympathies enlisted for the
poor deluded being whom he sees suspended by a
brittle thread before him, and shuddering as he beholds the fibers loosen,-it breaks —he is lost-and
the great man utters the exclamation as though it,




S PO KEN  T HOUGHT.              103
Paover 4l toe speaker's words.  All else forgotten.  Patrick Henry.
were all real. It is rare that one acquires such a
command over his hearers, such a power that all is
forgotten, save the creations of the speaker's fancy.
Place and circumstance are unnoticed, and the hearer
bends forward spell-bound to catch the syllable glowing from his lips.
We have had one man in our own country who
possessed this power in an eminent degree. That
man was Patrick Henry. The opening scenes of the
Revolution were well fitted to arouse his passions, and
to work upon a mind so'susceptible to emotion as
was his. Many of his speeches then made on political questions, were characteristic of the skill which
he possessed.  But his true sphere, or rather the
sphere in which he could be most effective, was witlh
out doubt before a jury as a criminal lawyer. This
was the stage on which he delighted to act. On one
occasion a clergyman was prosecuted in Virginia for
violating some sectarian law of the State, and in the
indictment there occurred this clause-" for preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ."  Henry volunteered
to defend him. The indictment was read and laid
upon the table. The prosecuting attorney delivered
a labored argument to prove the charge and secure a
conviction.  When he was through, Henry arose,
grasped the indictment, swung it about his head and
exclaimed "My God  prosecuted for preaching the




104            THE  POWER OF
*'Not guilty."  Study of character.  Disregard of precedent,
Religion of Jesus Christ! What did our fathers
come to this country for?"  He swung it again about
his head,-dashed it upon the floor,-starnped upon
it with his feet and took his seat. Such an effect did
those few words have upon jury and audience, that
they were seized with indignation against the man
who could prefer such a suit. Without retiring
from  their seats a verdict of "not guilty" was
rendered.
The power of Mr. Henry's eloquence in many of
his early efforts seems past belief and well nigh miraculous. From early youth he was quiet and contemplative in his deportment, and possessed a p culiar tact for relating striking facts and anecdotes. He
was particularly fond of argument, and often drew
the neighbors, who frequented the stoire where he was
employed, into wrangling discussions, that he might
observe the working of their passions or come to the
relief of the beleaguered party.  He was much given
to meditation. And when he came to plead causes,
he made his argument from an original and elementary analysis of the case,-paying little regard to precedents,-with  illustrations drawn from  his own
fancy. He had not much reverence or use for law
books, and had his causes been decided according to
precedent, the result would have been very damaging to his success as a lawyer. But a jury of com



SPOKEN THOUGHT.                  105
Powers at command.    Parson's case.  Appearance.
mon men will hear eloquence when they will pay
little regard to the dry details of co-ordinate cases.
In the management of a discourse Mr. Henry was
signally successful. All his powers of mind and of
body seemed to flock about him when he entered
the arena. His approach to a cause was like the
war-horse " that paweth in the valley and rejoiceth
in his strength; and goeth on to meet the armed
men." His frame dilated. The features of his face
took new relations. I:is head was erect. The whole
bearing of his person was noble. His biographer, in
narrating the circumstances connected with the celebrated " Parson's case,"' has given a glowing account
of the trial, and in alluding to the plea of Mr. Henry
he says, "No one had ever heard him speak, and
curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose very awkwardly,
and faltered much in his exbrdium.  The- people
hung their heads at so unpromising a commencement; the clergy were observed to exchange sly
looks with each other; and his father, who was
upon the bench, is described as having almost sunk
from his seat. But these feelings were of short duration, and soon gave place to others of a very different character.  For now were those wonderful faculties which he possessed, for the first time developed;
and now was witnessed that mysterious and almost
supernatural transformation of appearance, which the
5*




106           T  E   OE -P  w E R'OFF
Effect produced.          Dignified and manly eloqueonce.
fire of his own eloquence never failed to work. in
him. For'as his mind roll-d along, and began to
glow from  its own action, all the exuvisa of the
clown seemed to shed themselves spontaneously.
His attitude by degrees became erect and lofty. The
spirit of his genius awakened all his features. His
countenance shone with a nobleness and grandeur
which it had never before exhibited. There was a
lightning in his eyes which seemed to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, bold and cornmanding; and in the tones of his voice, but more
especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar
charm, a magic, of which any one who ever heard
him will speak as soon as he is named, but of which
no one can give any adequate description. They
can only say that it struck upon the ear and upon
the heart, in a manner that language can not tell.
Add to all these his wonder-working fancy, and the
peculiar phraseology in which he clothed his images;
for he painted to the heart with a force that almost
petrified it. In the language of those who heard
him on this occasion,' he made their blood to run
cold and their hair to rise on end."'
It is not often that the power of intensely moving
the emotions, is found united with the highest order
of dignified and manly eloquence.  It requires a
mind constructed on the grandest scale. The facul



S PIOK E N T HO U G H T.         10O
Daniel Webster.    Dartmouth College.   Supreme Court of U. S.
ties need to be nicely balanced. The judgment must
be broad and firm; the sense of justice and integrity thoroughly inwrought into the mental constitution. Providence rarely bestows such gifts. We
find them perhaps more perfectly combined in the
mind of Daniel Webster than in any other in the
history of our nation. There are few positions in
which a public speaker can be placed, in which he
had not the talents to succeed. - His power was.
equally felt whether he spoke in presence of a bench
of learned judges, or before a promiscuous assembly
of ten thousand people. Nor does he, to accomplish
this result, adopt a method peculiar to the audience
whom he addresses. All his great efforts are marked
with that plain but lofty style, which identify it as
the stately steppings of his giant mind; and it is
equally characterized by a pathos and sublimity
which move the passions of his hearers. When he
argued the cause of Dartmouth College versus the
State of New Hampshire, before the Supreme Court
of the -United States, composed of Chief Justice Marshall, associated with Washington, Livingston, Johnson, Story, Todd, and Duvall, men the most vener-.
able and august that ever graced that bench, it is
related by one* who heard him on the occasion, that
* Before going to Washixngton, which I did chiefly for the sake of




108                THE ROWER OF
Argument of Mr. Webster.
for upwards of four hours he detailel to the court,
in the most clear and lucid style, the features of
the case, without apparent effort to himself or his
hearing Mr. Webster, I was told that, in arguing the case at Exeter,
New Hampshire, he had left the whole court-room in tears at the
conclusion of his speech. This, I confess, struck me unpleasantlyany attempt at pathos on a purely legal question like this, seemed
hardly in good taste. On my way to Washington, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Webster. We were together several days in Philadelphia, at the house of a common friend; and as the College question
was one of deep interest to literary men, we conversed often and
largely on the subject. As he dwelt upon the leading points of the
case, in terms so calm, simple, and precise, I said to myself more than
once, in reference to the story I had heard, "Whatever may have
seemed appropriate in defending the college at home, and on her own
ground, there will be no appeal to the feelings of Judge Marshall and
his associates at Washington."  The Supreme Court of the United
States held its session, that winter, in a mean apartment of moderate
size-the Capitol not having been built after its destruction in 1814.
The audience, when the case came on, was therefore small, consisting
chiefly of legal men, the ilite of the profession throughout the country.'Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm tone of easy and
dignified conversation. His matter was so completely at his command
that he scarcely looked at his brief, but went on for more than f6ur
hours with a statement so luminous, and a chain of reasoning so easy
to be understood, and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demonstration, that he seemed to carry witli him every man of his audience
without the slightest effort or weariness on either side. It was hardly
eloquence, in the strict sense of the term; it was pure reason. Now
and then, for a sentence or two, his eye flashed and his voice swelled
into a bolder note, as he uttered some emphatic thought; but he instantly fell back into the tone of earnest conversation, which ran
throughout the great body of his speech. A single circumstance will
show you the clearness and absorbig power- ofhi:  a'.guml ent. I




SPOKEN THOUGHT.                            109
Case of every college.                          Pathetic appeal.
auditory, and that in the few pathetic sentences,
with which he closed his argument, he so wrought
upon the feelings of his hearers that he left them
observed that Judge Story, at the opening of the case, had preoared
himself, pen in hand, as if to take copious minutes. Hour after hour
I saw him fixed in the same attitude, but, so far as I could perceive,
with not a note on his paper. The argument closed, and I could not
discover that he had taken a single note. Others around me remarked
the same thing, and it was among the on dils of Washington, that a
friend spoke to him of the fact with surprise, when the judge remarked, "Every thing was so clear, and so easy to remember, that
not a note seemed necessary, and, in fact, I thought little or nothing
about my notes."  The argument ended.  Mr. Webster stood for
some moments silent before the court, while every eye was fixed
intently upon him. At length, addressing the Chief Justice, Marshall,
he proceeded thus:-" This, sir, is my case. It is the case, not merely
of that humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land.
It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout our country-of all those great charities founded by the piety of
our ancestors to alleviate human misery, and scatter blessings along
the pathway of life. It is more. It is, in some sense, the case of
every man among us who has property of which he may be stripped;
for the question is simply this: shall our State Legislatures be allowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it from its original
use, and apply it to such ends or purposes as they, in their discretion,
shall see fit?  Sir, you may destroy this little institution; it is weak;
it is in your hands I I know it is one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you do so,
you must carry through your work. You must extinguish, one after
another, all those great lights of science which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our land.
"It is, sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet, there are those
who love it-."
Here tho feelings which he had thus far succeeded in keeping down,




110               TH E: P OWE R.;- OF
Words of tenderness.    Emotion of the judges.    Scene for a palin'r.
and  even  that grave -bench of judges, moved with
the strongest emotions, and eyes suffused with tears.
It was my lot to have heard Mr. Webster but once.
broke forth. His lips quivered; his firm cheeks trembled with emotion; his eyes were filled with tears; his voice choked, and he seemed
struggling to the utmost, simply to gain that mastery over himselt
which might save him from an unmanly burst of feeling. I will not
attempt to give you the few broken words of tenderness in which he
went on to speak of his attachment to the college.  The whole
seemed to be mingled throughout with the recollections of father,
mother, brother, and all the trials and privations through which he
had made his way into life. Every one saw that it was wholly unpremeditated, a pressure on his heart, which sought relief in words
and tears. The court-room, during these two or three minutes, presented an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, with his
tall, gaunt figure, bent over as if to catch the slightest whisper, the
deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emotion, and eyes suffused
with tears; Mr. Justice Washington at his side, with his small and
emaciated frame, and countenance more like marble than I ever saw
on any other human being-leaning forward with an eager, troubled
look; and the remainder of the court, at the two extremities, pressing,
as it were, towards a single point, while the audience below were
wrapping themselves round in closer folds beneath the bench to catch
each look, and every movement of the speaker's face. If a painter
could give us the scene on canvas-those forms and countenances,
and Daniel Webster as he then stood in the midst, it would be one of
the most touching pictures in the history of eloquence. One thing it
taught me, that the pathetic depends not merely on the words uttered,
but still more on the estimate we put upon him who utters them.
There was not one among the strong-minded men of that assembly
who could think it unmanly to weep, when he saw, standing before
him, the man who had made such an argument melted into the
tenderness of a child.
Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and Sfiing his




SPOKEN TH O U GHT.                         11l
Alma Mater.                   Personal rccollection of Mr. Webster.
He had been secured by a "Library Association" to
deliver an address. The occasion was one of simply
ordinary  interest-the  usual weekly  lecture.   But
long before the time  announced, the spacious hall
was filled to overflowing.   I  was so  fortunate  as
to secure a favorable seat, and waited patiently for
hours that I might fully satisfy the desire of seeing
and hearing the American Cicero. At a few moments before eight o'clock the side door opened, and
a hale, well-formed man, something past the meridian
of life, advanced unattended to the platform, which
he mounted with a ready step, and advancing a few
paces, retaining a kid glove upon  the left hand in
which  he held  his hat, he bowed gracefully to the
audience, and retired to a sofa.  Daniel Webster was
before us! The grace and noble bearing of the man
upon his entrance, which seemed to sit so easily
keen eye on the Chief Justice, said, in that deep tone with which he
sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience:-";' Sir, I know not how
others may feel," (glancing at the opponents of the college before liim,)
" but, for myself, when I see my alma mater surrounded, like Caesar in
the senate-house, by those who are reiterating stab upon stab, I would
not, for this right hand, have her turn to me, and say, El tu, quoque,
mi fili! And thou, too, my son!" IHe sat down. There was a deathlike stillness throughout the room for some moments; every ono
seemed to be slowly recovering himself, and coming gradually back to
his ordinary range of thouglht and feeling —-C1'oate's Eulogy on Daniel
Webster, page 35. Incident communicated by Dr. Chaunccy A. Goodrich.




112            THE POWER  OF
Emphatically a mlan.  The Constitution.  His voice.
upon him, produced a favorable impression. The
thought that came to my mind, as we were greeted
with the bow, was, that if a being from another world
were to come upon this earth and desire to see a
specimen of the race, here is the individual I would
present, —in form —-in features —in full-souled bearing, so entirely a man. As he arose to speak, I could
observe him more minutely. His cheeks were ruddy,
his eye was clear and bright, his dress was simple but
tasteful-a blue coat, a buff vest and black pants,his usual dress for a public occasion. His hair, thin
and sprinkled with the frosts of age, was brushed
back as represented in the pictures.
His subject was the Constitution, that instrument
which he first read, when a boy, printed upon his
pocket handkerchief, and the theme which of all
others he most delighted to speak about. The discourse was entirely extempore, and was mainly devoted to a history of the formation of the Constitution, and the opinions entertained of it by the
framers. There was nothing particularly striking or
original in the matter. Yet there were many facts
whicll he had learned from the mouths of the men
who took part in those grave deliberations, which
were deeply interesting, and at times held the audience breathless. His voice was bold and majestic,
like the full-toned bell of some lofty tower. It was




SPOKEN TIHOU GHT.                  113
Eulogy of Adams and Jefferson.      "Sink or Swim."
the voice which could represent our race. But there
was something in that presence which no pen can
describe-a majesty which we attach to kings and
emperors. Sometimes he faltered for an instant, and
when the precise word or thought would not come at
his bidding, that noble eye would invariably roll up
in the socket as if in search, and he would pass his
hand over his forehead as though to arouse it. His
countenance rarely changed-lofty and majestic like
the fabled countenance of Jove in the balls of the
gods. Every feature was lit up with the brightness
of a great mind -filled with generous thoughts.
Once only during the discourse a smile was seen
to play upon his countenance. The occasion of it
was this:  in that part of his lecture in which he
alluded to Adams and Jefferson,.he said that at their
death he had, at the request of his fellow-citizens,
delivered a eulogy; and in that part which referred
to Mr. Adams, —that he might inspire it with life,he was desirous of introducing his speech on the
adoption of the Declaration of Independence. As
Congress sat in secret session at that time, and no
speeches were reported, the remarks of Mr. Adams
were lost. He accordingly composed and inserted in
the eulogy, what lie thought Mr. Adanls would be
likely to have said, beginning, " Sink or swim, live
or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration."




114:     THE POWER OF
Instrument of good as well as of evil.
Since the delivery of that eulogy, Marr. Webster said
that he had received, on an average, two letters a
month, from 1824 to the.time he was speaking, in
1851, from persons in various parts of this country
and from Europe, asking where he found that speech
of Mr. Adams, stating that they had searched the
records and the archives of state, without being
able to discover any trace of it.
My impression from this personal reminiscence of
Mr. Webster, is, that our opinion of his eloquence is
greatly modified by our appreciation of his overshadowing mind. At all events, it is a matter of consolation to have seen the man and to have heard his voice.
It is good to look upon the face of one in whom cormmanding talents have been united with majesty of
person, to behold grace and dignity where nature has
set them, and to come into immediate contact and sympathy with one of the leading minds of the world.
Spoken thought is an instrument of great power.
Its influence is confined to no sphere of action, and
may be employed for purposes of evil as well as of
good. It may be made to minister to virtue and
happiness. It may be the instrument of wrong and
incalculable sorrow. In the hands of the licentious
villain, it may arouse in the breast of innocence the
worst passions of which our nature is susceptible.
From the lips of the earnest minister of the gospel,




SPOKEN THOUGHT.                  115
In the science of- government.
it may lift us up and transport us to the very gate of
heaven.
At the tribunal of justice it may turn the scale in
favor of wrong, trample upon the most sacred principles of honor, and crush the very heart of innocence; or it may inspire the evil doer with terror,
and lead him in the way of virtue. It may paralyze
the rights of the poor injured victim of that heartless man who would take advantage of weakness
and ignorance; or it may pour into the wounded
breast a balm, and convince mankind that there
still is faith on the earth, and that the spirit of justice has not yet taken her final flight.
In the science of government it may serve the
purpose of duplicity and personal selfishness; or it
nay inspire the breast with undying courage in the
defense of liberty and the rights of civil society.
The man in whose heart burns not one generous
aspiration for the public good, who would sell the
liberties of his country for his own personal aggrandizement, may go on from court-house to courthouse, from city to city, and from State to State,
pouring out as it were his very heart in burning
eloquence, and all that his particular friend may be
elected President, and he be appointed a member of
the cabinet, a minister to a foreign court, or the
governor of a territory. Or it may be in the hands




116           T THE POWER- OF
The achievements of virtue.
of the disinterested, noble-minded patriot, the power
which sunders the bonds of the oppressed, which
lights the torch of civil liberty; which rouses in
a nation the spirit that has slept -for centuries,
and makes the heart of the abused and long suffering serf to leap for gladness.  With the philanthropist it vindicates the brotherhood of man. It
binds up the broken heart, and alleviates the sorrows and distresses of the unfortunate.
If there is any thing that can be achieved by forensic eloquence-by the spirit of man, which can be
a source of pride in life, which can adorn the name
when he who bore it lies moulderinug in the tomb,
it is the achievement of virtue. If a distinguished
orator makes a speech on a -topic which concerns the
public interest, what is the'judgment of mankind
concerning it?  If he has appealed to the sense of
right and justice, if he has shown a clean heart and
a disinterested purpose, and moves with power upon
their feelings, he is honored and revered, and his
memory is sweet to them. But if he displays the
traces of a low, mean ambition, if he attempts by
smooth words to create an under current, which
shall some day carry him  inito some position of
emolument, the universal sense of mankind is to
damn and execrate him for it. The orator, and especially the political orator, is too often captivated




SPOKE N TtHOUG HT.                117
Eloquence among the Greeks.        Their language.
by present honors and gratifications than the more
enduring fame; is better pleased with a green exotic
than the fadeless laurel.
No state, either ancient or modern, ever yielded so
much to the power of eloquence as did the Greeks.
They lived in a tropical climate where warim and
quick passions are nurtured. Theirs was the land of
the orange and the olive-a pure atmosphere and
balmy breezes. Their language, too, was the most
accurate, comprehensive, and beautiful that has ever
been invented by the ingenuity of man; capable of
expressing the profound conceptions of Plato, the
most accurate and exact rules of Aristotle, the resistless eloquence of Demosthenes, the playful fancies
of Anacreon, and the liquid strains of Pindar. The
art of printing among them was unknown; the freedom ot speech was unbounded; and the passion of the
people was to hear news, and witness theatrical performances. No wonder that eloquence among them
had such unbounded sway.  The Athenian assemblies were stormy and tumultuous, and Athenian
oratory was of a corresponding character. Laws
were made and public ordinan:ces passed by the voice
of the whole people. It will be'readily perceived
thati.such a deliberative body would be liable to
be deceived and duped by the artful and designing
demagogue, who possessed. in an eminenlt degree the




118            T THE  POWE P  OF
Theimistocles successful.          Aristides banished.
power of forensic eloquence. But what has been the
judgment of succeeding ages respecting Athenian
statesmen?  The glory has not been awarded to him
who best succeeded, but to him who best deserved
success. The wrangling orator who sought for personal advancement, and opened unprovoked attacks
upon the wise and virtuous to secure their banishment, has merited and received the scorn of all
succeeding times; while he who was firm  in his
attachment to the prosperity of his country, and who
would rather submit to banishment or even death
than compromise its honor or his own veracity, has
always been held in grateful remembrance.  The
demagogue may be successful for a time, and the
good man may suffer deep wrong. But these circumstunces only make us more thoroughly despise
the former, and bind to our hearts more firmly the
latter. Themistocles wias eminently successful,  Yet
we never pronounce his nanle without thinking that
he was a deep, designing politician, who was ever
working to secure to himself some political end. But
Aristides will ever be loved and venerated; and
though he is banished from his country by the intrigues of Themistocles, and by those who were tired
of hearinog him called "the just;" yet -as he steps
upon the trireme that is to bear him away into ban.
ishment, he can drop a tear of pity for his enemies,




SPOK E EN  THOUG  T.             119
Remark of Sir Joshua Reynolds to Mr. Burke.
and offer a prayer to the gods for the protection and
prosperity of his native city,-that city. for whose
glory he had toiled so long and sacrificed so rnubh.
When we see the blackness and perfidy that is
wrapped up in the breast of Catiline, who does not
tremble for the fate of Rome, and grow indignant
over the story of this heartless villain? But will not
those noble sentiments that burst forth from the soul
of Cicero, make us better citizens and greater lovers
of country? admirers not more of the beauty, elegance and resistless power of his eloquence, than the
courage and fearless honesty of his heart? We scorn
those tribunes who flattered the people with the promise of securing some riollts for the public good, and
when power was firmly in their grasp turned a
haughty look upon the plebeians. But when we remember the honesty and devotion of Fabricius, and
the noble death of Cato, it is pleasant to think that
such men have lived.
Sir Joshua Reynolds once made the following remark to Mr. Burke: "I do not mean to flatter you,
Mr Burke, but when posterity reads one of your
speeches in Parliament, it will be difficult to believe
you took so much pains, knowing with certainty, as
you did, that it could produce no effect, that not one
Vote would be gained by it."  " Waiving your compliment to me," was the reply, " I shall say in general




120            THE  POWER  OF
Confederated republic.           Liberty of the orator.
that it is very well worth while for a man to take
pains to speak well in Parliament.  And if a man
speaks well, he gradually establishes a certain reputation and consequence in the general opinion, which
sooner or later will have its political rewards. Besides, though not one vote is gained, a good speech
has its effect. The bill you oppose may pass into a
law, but it will be modified and softened by it."
This little fragment of personal remark opens to
our view the heart of the great statesman.  We discover that principle in his character upon which he
was willing to stake his reputation. It was not the
rule of mere expediency, or party triumph, or personal advancement upon which he acted. But deep
and unyielding devotion to those principles which in
his judgment were right, a fixedness of purpose
which no circumstance could change, obedience to
conscientious conviction that no hope of reward could
alter, were the elements which gave luster to the character of him who is the pride of British statesmen and
civilians, and which will entwine about the name of
Burke in perennial beauty.
In some respects civil society among us is similar
to. what it was among the Greeks.  Ours is a confederated republic, and with us, as with the Greeks, the
orator is at liberty to think what he pleases and speak
what he thinks. Successful oratory is in high repute.




SPOKEN  THOUGH T.                  121
Our nation.                              Its destiny.
W~e pay great deference to the man who afficts and
moves us by the expression of his opinions.  We are
therefore, like the Greeks, as a people, liable to be deceived by him who has a false heart and a persuasive
tongue. In many respects the prospects before our
nation are flattering. It occupies the fairest portion
of this western continent. It is situated in the most
beautiful and productive region of the whole earth.
it has ample territory, and boundless resources. For
beauty and grandeur of scenery, salubrity of air, and
serenity of sky, it is not surpassed. Its people are of
that stock who are ever restless and unsatisfied. The
arts eminently flourish. Intellectual culture is duly
appreciated and patronized.  But, alas for its fate
if wicked men are suffered to control its destinyI
Heaven grant that wisdom may direct, that virtue
may prevail I
8




LECTURE IV.
VO'OAL CULTURE.
A CORRECT and ready elocution can not be
overvalued in a system of education. Speech
is that one of our faculties which is in almost constant use.  From the artless prattle of infancy to
the last trembling accents of age, the voice rarely
remains long unused.  If it be employed for the
purpose of public speaking, there is special need
of a happy and effective utterance.  But even in
ordinary conversation it is pleasant to hear a musical voice equally removed from  ignorant vulgarity and studied affectation. It is exhilarating to feel
in the tone, the sentiments that glow in the mind
of him who addresses us.  An easy elocution is
among the first of accomplishments, because it i;
one which constantly shows. They who labor so
assiduously to maintain a claim  to aristocracy in
manners and dress should not neglect this.
When we speak, it is our object to convey to the
minds of others the thoughts which we have in our
own minds. We may fail to effect this purpose,




VOCAL CULTURE.                  123
Tone repulsive.                  True idea of reading.
either wholly or in part, from a defective or careless habit of utterance.  We receive and retain the
thoughts of some persons, because of the pleasant
and striking style in which they are spoken, and we
forget what another has said before he has done
speaking, because his style of address is so repulsive
and bungling. If we gain the attention of the one
we address and his mind is in a receptive state, still
we may fail to make him feel the force of a thought
as we do, because we have not the faculty of throwing it fully into the words we speak. We have all
observed that there is music, a magic in some voices
that is charming and attractive, while others are
capable of blunting our perceptions and forcing us
to close our ears.
If we read aloud what another has written, the
task becomes more difficult; for in addition to what
has been named above, we have to learn and ap;
preciate what was the idea of the author.  Reading
consists in conveying to the minds of those' who
listen, the thought as it originally existed in -the
mind of him who wrote it. If we fail to understand
and fully appreciate the meaning of_ the piece as we
proceed, then we do not read, but simply call words
like the parrot. If we have a correct understanding
of it, but still fail to communicate it by the words
we use, then we do not' read: in the proper accep



124           VOCAL Ct LTURE.
Imitation.                             False habits. -
tation of that term. The requisites for reading are
an appreciation of the thought of the author, and a
correct and effective elocution which enables us to
convey that thought to the hearer.
The first knowledge of the use of the voice we
acquire by imitation. The child, before it is old
enough to talk, will express its ideas by a correct
modulation. In youthful play and sport we rarely
hear an incorrect inflection, and if the example has
been good scarcely a principle of elocution will be
violated. But when the child learns its letters, and
then to combine those letters into words, it usually
fails to understand and appreciate the thought, and
consequently fails to communicate it. Reading, according to the conception of the child, is a process of
calling words more or less rapidily, and stopping to
spell out only the more difficult ones. The habit is
formed of reading and speaking in a set, measured
tone, without any reference to the sense, and observing none of the principles of inflection and intonation which were in infancy correctly learned.
As the boy grows up he often indculges in animated
and impassioned conversation, and by using language rapidly and without care, the very bad practice is indulged of omitting many sounds, and of
obscuring others, and the habit is soon formed of
incQrrect and imperfect articulation.




VOCAL  CULTURE.                125
Object of elocution.                  Enunciation.
The object of vocal culture or elocution is to
break up false habits and to establish those which
are correct, and to arouse the emotional nature of
the reader to a just conception of the thought to be
communicated. It is not the province of this science
to create an emotional nature, but simply to awaken
and direct that which already exists.  It can not
bestow  on the voice any new elements of power;
but it may give to those which we have a new vital
force by unburdening them of many false habits and
imparting skill in correct ones.
In a systematic course of vocal culture, it is necessary to give attention, in the first place, to enunciation and pronunciation. It would be time lost to
attempt to cultivate expression before the elements
of expression have been corrected. A class in almost any academy or college, will illustrate the
variety of habits to which they have been accustomed. A sentence of ten words may not be properly read by any one of them, and yet no two may
have made the same mistake. It requires on the
part of the teacher a quick and nice sense in detecting errors, and the power of imitating them, that the
force of the criticism may be appreciated. It is' only
by a thorough drill that errors of long standing can
be broken up, and that correct habits can be firmly
fixed. The omitting or obscuring the consonant Pl,




126           VOCA.L CULTURE.
The Scotch.     Habit of the French.  Pronunciation.
is one of the most common mistakes. The R should
not be made so prominent and trilled as it is by the
Scotch, but it should be full and distinct. It is an
extremely pleasant sound when correctly given. It
is one of the liquids, and adds much to the beauty
and melody of a sentence. The consonant S is another of those letters that commonly receives very
harsh usage. It has a soft, flute-like sound that is
very agreeable.  But most public speakers, and almost every one in conversation, substitute for this,
a rough harsh one that tears the ear. The French
exercise the greatest care in uttering all their nice
and pleasant sounds, that they may produce by
means of them  a favorable effect.  But we as a
nation are unmindful of the rich treasury of the
nicest and most exquisite elements in which our
language abounds.
Pronunciation is not a matter which strictly pertains to vocal culture, and yet it can not be neglected.
The standard of pronunciation, is the usage of that
class of society the most refined by mental culture.
There are provincialisms, and the style of speaking
in different cities, which may prevail even in the best
cultivated circles. But local peculiarities should be
discarded. A  dictionary is usually considered the
standard; but it can not be authority unless it give
what is good usage. A dictionary based upon any




VOCAL' CULTUR E..                127
Tongues of many nations.           Pitch and inflection.
other plan than that of detailing present usage is
worthless. The lexicographer can not make laws for
language.  But he must be the faithful chronicler of
the custom of our best speakers.  That dictionary
should therefore be used, which most strictly conforms to this principle. The slightest variation of
sounds from true pronunciation should be promptly
corrected, and pupils should b, taught to distinguish
the errors to which they are liable with the nicest
perception of what is correct, so that they may soon
acquire the habit of watching with critical care every
sound that escapes their lips. The child inherits
many errors in pronunciation. Our population is so
heterogeneous, being made up of representatives from
almost every nation on the globe, that we not unfrequently find in the same school a variety of peculiarities traceable to the language of the people from
which the family has descended. The greatest care
on the part of the teacher is therefore needed. These
peculiarities are to be dispelled, and the tongues of
all nations made to blend in harmonious English, or,
if you choose, American.
Pitch and inflection should next receive our attention. The best place for a boy to learn these is
upon the play-ground. During a single intermission,
a company of lads will give expression to almost
every variety of pitch and inflection known to elo



128          VOCAL  CULTURE.
Tones in the class.            Night soliloquy in Venice.
cutionists. In the exuberance of youthful feeling,
and the contentions for their privileges and rights,
they have occasion to utter thoughts and -emotions
of every shade and degree,' From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
in general these intonations will be correct. The
feelings one cherishes, naturally prompt to a proper
expression of them. But those same boys, at the
call of the bell, will enter the school room and read
a lesson from their books in their " reading tone,"
entirely different from that which they so appropriately used upon the play-ground. They observe
the pauses, and give inflections according to some
spelling-book rule, regardless of the sentiment to'be
communicated and the emotions which it is intended
to awaken. They have an abundance of tones at
command when surrounded by their companions, but
when they have taken their places in the class, their
command of voice forsakes them, and they have only
one pitch for every variety of thought. There is
a monotonous tone, uninterrupted by any species
of modulation, which is characteristic of most youth
at some period, and which many never abandon.
Whether the sentiment be intended to awalen peaceful and gentle thoughts, like the words of Lioni in
the night soliloquy in Venice:




vo CAL  CULTURE.                    129
Words of Brutus.                     Dialogue for practice.' All is gentle: nought
Stirs rudely; but congenial with the night,
Whatever walks, is gliding like a spirit;"
or, bold and defiant as the language of Brutus, when
chafed by the testy spirit of his friend:
"Fret, till your proud heart breakGo show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble;"
it is all read to the same pitch, and upon that same
unvarying tone. The spelling-book has made it his
duty to keep the voice up at a comma, and to let it
fall at a period, and to this he religiously adheres
through all the storms of passion, and the peace and
quiet of a summer evening and moonlight hoursthrough the wild shouts of "sentries' shriek," the
clang of arms and the torrent's roar, or the gentle rippling of the brook and the soft sighing of the breeze.
To break up false habits and establish correct ones,
can most easily be accomplished by employing for
practice that species of composition which the pupils
are accustomed to use in conversation. and which
they naturally use correctly. If the scholar reads
with an unnatural and drawlingo tone, let the teacher
copy upon the blackboard a little fragment of talk,which he has overheard in passing the play-ground,
and let that be the lesson.  By the reading of a familiar conversation, and giving the correct, the nat6*




130          VVOCA L  C-ULTU RE.
Advantaoes.    Calling words, not rea(ling.    Rhetorical thought.
ural inflections and intonations, the identity of conversing and reading,-of speaking aind declaiming is
established. For this reason, dialogue, carefully and
correctly read, has great advantages over any other
kind of composition. It is not well for a class to
read -continually in course.  Those passages should
be selected which illustrate the particular branch of
elocution upon which instruction is being given. It
is a great mistake, which many of our teachers make,
in allowing their pupils to read on, piece after piece,
day after day, as the squirrel turns the wheel of his
cage, knowing no object or end, and only correcting
the words called wrong; as though the calling of
words were reading.  A single passage thoroughly
understood and correctly practiced may be of more
service than carelessly calling the words of many
pages. For the reading of that exercise is a pattern
by which all others may be read of that class. A
few such passages cover the whole ground of what
is termed by elocutionists rhetorical thought, and he
who has once mastered these is in the proper way to
improvement.
We would not be understood by these remarks
to discard extensive practice. The calling of words
readily is the basis of good reading, and the pupil
needs much exercise in acquiring the habit. But if
he first understand the meaning of the words he




V O C A L C U L T U R- -E,     131
Final-object of vocal culture.
calls, and enters fully into the spirit of the thought,
the way, instead of being barren and gloomy, is joyous and delightful, cheered by the odors of flowers,
the music of the grove and the companionship of
nature, living and animated. A word whose meaning he knows and whose force he appreciates, is
at once remembered, and is ever after hailed with
familiarity; whereas a word or phrase which he
fails to understand, is encountered a thousand times
with the same vacant stare.  We need reading
books so graded and suited to the wants of scholars,
that at every stage the pupil may have something
adapted to his capacity and capable of interesting
him.  He can then appreciate the value of intonation in communicating thought, can practice calling
words understandingly, and much time may be
saved.
The final object of vocal culture is to make our
reading and speaking effective. It may not make
every one equally impressive, but no one can doubt
that careful training improves the utterance of all.
The proper modulation of the voice, adapting it to the
sentiment and the emotions it is capable of awakening, and sustaining the tone with the proper degree
of force and energy, may be to a person a source of
very great power. The child, by a natural gift and
by imitation, may learn many pieces of music. Its




132           VOCAL  C ULTU R E.
Puerile performance.  The minstrel.  Value of culture to the singer.
performances may be touching and pathetic and be
tolerably correct, yet the lack of systematic culture
in giving power and expression is at once detected,
and the singing is pronounced puerile. In reading,
as in music, it requires much practice to acquire
great skill.  The minstrel made many a disgracefiul
failure and discordant sound, and long
"Amid the strings his fingers strayed,
And an uncertain warbling made,"
before the hand had caught the cunning of the art,
and
" In varying cadence, soft or strong,
Hie swept the sounding chords along."
What culture can do for the singer, it can also do
for the reader and the speaker. It requires many
lessons to teach a singer to open his mouth.  He
must know  the value of a full round volume of
voice, of loud and heavy strains, and of those which
are soft and light. He must with many tedious
strokes beat the air to right and left, and up and
down, and  with  exactness measure  time.  It is
equally necessary that the person who would read
well should learn the use of all these elements, for
it is these that give the speaker the command of
force and power.
The value of systematic culture to tile singer is
now generally felt and appreciated.  We have mu



VOCAL C ULTURE.                133
Jenny Lind.    Admiring multitudes.    Elements of her success.
sical festivals and conventions, in which it is the business of the conductor to train the voices of the members in expression, to draw out those powers which
have never been reached by the ordinary course of
instruction. An impulse was given to the progress
of this noble science by the visit of Jenny Lind to
this country. The power which the human voice
may be made to exert upon the mind when duly
cultivated was admirably illustrated in her performances. Wherever she sang, crowds pressed to hear
her. Sums of money, which for almost any other
purpose would have been considered the height of
extravagance, were freely paid. Captivated by those
bewitching charms of voice which she displayed,
breathless thousands gazed and listened with delight.
Such wealth of variety, such melody of utterance,
such sweetness of tone, and the inimitable command
of the most delicate expression, is the rare attainment of mortals. Her songs,-at times mild as the
morning zephyr, playful as the twitter of the swallow, soft as the coing of the dove, at others wild
and piercing as the shrieks which express the fancies
that revel in the wild girl's brain,-summoned from
almost every city in our nation delighted and admirIng multitudes.
It is difficult to comprehend how it is possible fori
a mortal spirit. to- exiert such unbounded sway. The




134          V O CAL  C ULTURE.
HIer devotion.
secret will be found in the elaborate cultivation of
the faculties to which her early life was given.
Those melting tones did not burst spontaneous from
her lips.  It was not instinctive utterance, like the
song of the young nightingale that for the first time
opes its tender throat.  That capacity which she
possesses is the fruit of long hours of weariness
and toil.  Practice and unceasing effort were the
elements of her success and enviable fame.  While
her young companions threaded the streets, or dozed
upon their pillows, she was
"-  at her work and her stern hours."
Gifted by nature with a delicate ear, all those tones
unusually sweet, expressive and forcible, which had
pleased her youthful fancy, still lingered in her mind,
and when alone with her worn instruments of sound,
she varied, combined, and practiced them till the
pallor of her cheek spoke her devotion, and her
wasted energies cried for relaxation from intensity
of toil.  With a diligence scarcely paralleled, she
pursued the vocation which she loved, till she drew
forth from that voice of unknown and unmeasured
power, her matchless songs
~ In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out%




VOCAL C-ULTR E.'185
Hungary's exile.                   I Iis stirring eloquence.
With wanton heed and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony."
The counterpart of the visit of Jenny Lind to
this country, was that of Hungary's unfortunate
exile. Both were eminent examples of the power
which the human voice is capable of displaying.
Song was the instrument of the one, eloquence of
the other.  It was not the novelty of seeing and of
hearing a foreigner, or merely sympathy for him in
his misfortune, that drew crowds of our nation's
proudest sons about him. But it was the resistless
power of his eloquence-that marshaling of words
into harmonious phrase which captivated the soul of
the hearer-those bursts of passion for the rights
of the injured and the oppressed-those withering
words of satire, and exclamations of reproach and
denunciation against the oppressor's wrong and the
"proud man's contumely," which, could they have
heardt who had been guilty of grinding out with iron
heel the last life spark of his native land, would have
inspired the vain attempt to stifle the workings of
their coward consciences, and caused
"Their knotted and combined locks to part."
The young and the old, the grave and the gay
everywhere, who heard, universally feel and express




1306         VOCAL CULTURE.
An -English grammnar and a Shakspeare.
a satisfaction that it has been their fortune to have
listened to those miraculous displays of eloquence
which were exhibited by that unfortunate exile. His
progress through this country was a triumph, prouder
than that of a conqueror. It was a triumph of eloquence  A triumph of one mind over many mindsI
A triumnph of the tongue! Nor was this the spon-taneous and natural outburst of untutored, unbridled
genius. It was the fruit of long, lonely hours of
weariness and toil in the dungeons of his enemies,
In a cold prison house, in a damp cell, with no books
but an English grammar and a Shakspeare, he caught
the inspiring breath of eloquence. There he familiarized himself with words of power and energy and
might. During those dark and dismal hours, he
gained the rudiments of the English tongue; and
those conceptions,-endued with such pathos and sublimity as alone characterize the spirit of the great
English bard, and which were so congenial to his
own, —were the "studies" of his repeated brilliant
efforts.
The objection is urged by some to any attempt at
vocal training, on the ground that it induces an artificial and affected style of speaking. The principles
or elocution are all discarded, and the rules for the
government of the voice, and the notation for its
guidance which are employed in many elementary




VOCAL CULTURE.                            187
Objection to culture.                Experience of Demosthenes.
reading books are wholly rejected.  It is repulsive to
many to hear the word culture in connection  with
that of oratory.  It is -more congenial to think of the
orator as a genius, to believe him, like the poet,' born, not made."   But such was not the experience
of Demosthenes, beyond comparison the greatest orator of all ancient times.  Wxithout culture he was
awkward and unnatural in his manners when speaking.   He had the  habit of throwing  one shoulder
higher than the other. The features of his face were
distorted into unseemly grimaces. He stammered, and
his voice was small and feeble. It would seem disheartening for a man with all these physical defects
to attempt to excel in eloquence.  Yet by s yslematic
training, these  seeming  insurmountable  obstacles*
* When Demosthenes was about sixteen years of age his curiosity
was attracted by a trial in which Callistratus pleaded and won a cause
of considerable importance. The eloquence vwhich procured and the
acclamations which followed his success, so inflamed the young Athenian, that he determined to devote himself thenceforward to the
assiduous study of oratory. At the age of seventeen he appeared before
the public tribunals, and pronounced against his faithless guardians,
and against a debtor to his father's estate, five orations which were
crowned with complete success. These discourses, in all probability,
had received the finishing touches from  Ismas, under whom Demosthenes continued to study for the space of four years after he had
reached his majority. An opening so brilliantly successful, emboldened the young orator, as may well be supposed, to speak before the
people; but when he made the attempt, his feeble and stammering
voice, his interrupted respiration, his ungraceful gestures, and his ill




138             VOCAL CULTURE.
Physical defects.                         Overcome by calture.
were overcome, and he rose to the first place in eloquence.   His industry in breaking up  bad  habits,
and in learning and cultivating correct ones, is such
arranged periods, brought upon him general ridicule. Returning home
in the utmost distress, he was reanimated by the kind aid of the actor
Satyrus, who, having requested Demosthenes to repeat some passage
from a dramatic poet, pronounced the same extract after him, with so
much correctness of enunciation and in a manner so true to nature,
that it appeared to thle young orator to be quite another passage. Convinced, thereupon, how much grace and persuasive power, a proper
enunciation and manner added to the best oration, he resolved to correct the deficiencies of his youth, and accomplished this with a zeal and
a perseverance which have passed into a proverb. How deeply he
commands our respect and admiration by his struggles to overcome
his natural infirmities, and remove the impressions produced by. his first
appearance before his assembled countrymen I He was not indebted
for the glory he acquired either to the bounty of nature or the favor
of circumstances, but to the inherent strength of his own unconquerable will. To free himself from stammering, he spoke with pebbles in
his mouth, a report resting on the authority of Demetrius Phalerius,
his contemporary. It also appeared that lie was unable to articulate
clearly the letter R, but he vanquished that difficulty most perfectly;
for Cicero, says, "exercitatione fecisse ut plenissime diceret."  He
removed the distortion of features, which accompanied his utterance,
by watching the movements of his countenance in a mirror; and a
naked sword was suspended over his left shoulder while lie was declaiming in private, to prevent its rising above the level of the right.
That his enunciation mighllt be loud and full of emphasis, he frequently
ran up the steepest and most uneven walks, an exercise by which his
voice acquired both'force and energy; and on the sea shore, when the
waves were violently agitated, he declaimed aloud, to accustom himself to the noise and tumult of a public assembly. He constructed a
subterranean study, where he would often stay two or three months
together, shaving one side of his head, that, in case he should wish to




VOC AL CULTURE.                             139
CopyingThucydides.                        Cultivation of manners.
as we always find  associated with  eminent success.
The idea, that great ability is independent of faithfhl
industry in accomplishing great results, is a relic of
superstition which the light of a wiser faith  has not
wholly dissipated. The same argument, which is
brought against the cultivation  of the voice, might
with equal propriety be urged against the cultivation
of manners.   It being  desirable  that our children
should  possess easy  and  natural habits of address,
we might expect by this process of reasoning, that
neglect would be the surest means of attaining this
end.  The  absurdity  of such  a conclusion  becomes
apparent upon a moment's reflection.
go abroad, the shame of appearing in that condition might keep him
within. In this solitary retreat, by the light of his lamp, he copied
and recopied, ten times at least, the orations scattered througlhout the
history of Thucydides, for the purpose of mnouldling his own style after
so pure a model. Whatever may be the truth of these several ieports,
Demosthenes got credit for the most indef.atigable labor in the acquisition of his art. Iis enemies at a subsequent period of his career, attempted to ridicule this extraordinary industry, by remarking that all
his arguments "smelt of the lamp," and they eagerly embraced the
opportunity of denying him the possession of natural taleats. A malicious opinion like this would easily find credit; for, since it is acknowledged on all hands, that all successful men who are naturally
dull must be industrious; the converse of the proposition grows into
repute, and it is inferred that all men who are industrious must be
dull.   The accusation against Demosthenes seems to have rested
chiefly on his known reluctauce to speak without preparation.-Anthon'8s Art le, Demosthees.




140           v o CV A L  CULT U-RE.
A rustic lad.  Introduction ti) company.  Ease the result of culture.
Transfer a rustic ]ad who has never seen much of
life and societv, but the disorderly kitchen scenes in
a log cabin, and whose most familiar acquaintance
extends only to his implements of husbandry, dressed
in his best sheep's-grey, to a nice drawing-room
where cultivated society is assembled, and the trepidation which he evinces and the awkwardness which
characterizes every movement, show in his entire deportment and in every feature of his countenance
the,, embarassment by which he is oppressed.  His
face glows with confusion, his hands instinctively
seek the pockets, and his legs tremble and smite
against each other as though they too would seek
a place of concealment.  In this picture we have
none of the effects of culture. \Nothing is artificial.
It is the action of a spirit under the simple teach-ings
of nature. But how is it with the boy who has been
carefully instructed in the principles of good breeding, and' in the practice of the best society? His
deportment in company does not attract attention.
His manners seem to set easily upon him. If he is
introduced into a gentleman's drawing-room, he advances with an elastic step, and salutes the company
with modest grace.  His manners are pronounced
easy and natural. But it is that kind of naturalness
which is acquired by care and culture. It is the ease
which flows fromi unremitting attention to -the cor



VOCAL CUL'URE.                 141
Sentiment of Pope.   The athletse.   National games.
rection of errors, and the improvement of habits
which nature has ungraciously imposed upon us. It
is that ease, which though originally the effect of
discipline, when it has once become habitual, has a
more natural appearance than any movement which
untutored nature can produce. The sentiment of
Pope,
"That ease in writing flows from art, not chance,"
is equally true of manners, and of every accomplishment which we esteem.
The same principles are applicable to vocal culture. That ease and naturalness of expression which
we so much admire in eloquence and in common
conversation, is usually the result of careful culture,
and that which seems the artless flow of language is
itself the result of art.  Our physical natures are,
subject to the same lasws. Culture produces power.
The athlette, who contended for the prize in the
great national games of Greece, understood its value
and gave their lives to preparation. And he who
engaged in the contests, soon learned that it was the
boxer who had acquired most skill, and not the one
who had the most brute force, who could deal the
blow with the greatest effect. Every fact and every
analogy teach us that culture of the voice, study
of correct habits, admiration of the best models, a!ad




142          VOCAL  CULTURE.
Feel the spirit of what we utter.
persistence in practice, will be rewarded with their
legitimate fruits.  Demosthenes by the sea shore,
with the pebbles in his mouth, or clambering up
the steep of some beetling cliff, or by his lonely
lamp in his secluded cell, are world-renowned examples of devotion to eloquence, which will ever be
connected with the merited success of that immortal
orator.
In a piece which embraces many of the principles
of rhetorical reading, there is special necessity of
being able to enter into the spirit of it. It is impossible for us to read properly and with effect, that
which we do not understand. There is no culture
of the voice that can be of any avail, until we fully
appreciate this principle. It has been observed, in
the early part of this lecture, that reading or delivery
consisted in communicating by the tones of the voice
the thought as it was conceived by the author.  The
first object then to be accomplished is to become
fully imbued with the thought and spirit of the
writer.  The voice at once indicates whether we feel
intensely or not. An audience readily detect if we
earnestly mean what we say. If then the voice so
readily betrays the state. of the feelings, it is of importance, in order to make it effective, that we study
to place ourselves in the position of the writer.'When we properly appreciate tbhe Opinions: we utter,




VOCAL  CULTURE.                  143
First three requisites of oratory.  Delivery.  Fielding.
it inspires the whole person, and makes every look
and feature speak for us.  Demosthenes felt the
force of this truth, for when asked what in his opinion was the first requisite in oratory, he replied delivery.  And when asked what were the second and
the third  requisites, he made  the same  answer.
Without doubt one of the principal elements of his
success was his ability to enter fully into the spirit of
what he said, of feeling with all the intensity of his
nature those thoughts which he meditated with such
elaborate care.
In this, probably, consisted the great power of Mr.
Garrick.  It is safe to say that he never made an
audience intensely feel that which he did not first intensely feel himself.  Tragedy is the highest order
of rhetorical reading, and no person can properly
read or speak it, till he feels the passions that fired
the bosoms of the persons represented. Fielding,
that faithful delineator of character, has aptly represented the effect of Mr. Garrick's speaking upon the
common mind, in that passage in his " Tom Jones"
in which Jones and Mrs. Miller are represented as
taking Partridge, a young man from the country, to
hear Garrick in the character of Hamlet.
"Partridge gave that character to AIr. Garrick
which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent a trembl:in$g thiat- his knees- knocked againist each




144           V OCAL CULTURE.
Torn Jones and Mrs. Miller.     Partridge at the theater.
other. Jones asked him what was the matter, and
whether he was afraid of the warrior upon the stage.'O, la, sir,' said he,'I perceive now it is what you
told me. I am not afraid of any thing, for I know it
is but a play; and if it was really a ghost, it could
do one no harm, at such a distance and in so much
company; and yet, if I was frightened, I am not the
only person.''Why, who,' cries Jones,' dost thou
take to be such a coward here, besides thyself?';'Nay, an you may call me coward, if you will; but
if that little man: there, upon the stage, is not frightened, I never saw any man frightened in my life.'.
Partridge sat with his eyes partly fixed on the ghost,
and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open;
the same passions that succeeded each other in EIamlet, succeeded likewise in him.
"At the conclusion of the scene, Partridge says to
Jones,'It is natural to be surprised at such things,
though I know there is nothing in them; not that it
was the ghost that surprised me neither; but when
I saw the little man so frightened himself, it was that
which took hold of me.''And dost thou imagine,
then,' cries Jones,'that he was really frightened?''Nay, sir,' said Partridge,' did not you yourself observe afterwards, when he found it was his own father's spirit, how his fear forsook him by degrees,
and he was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were,




VOCAL CU LTURE.                145
His opinion of an actor.
just as I should have been, had it been my own
case.'
"Little more worth remembering occurred during
the play, at the end of which, Jones asked him
which of the players he liked best. To this, he answered, with some appearance of indignation,' The
king, without doubt.''Indeed!' answered Mrs. Miller,'you are not of the same opinion as the town;
for they are all agreed that Hamlet is acted by the
best player that was ever on the stage.''He the'
best playerl' cries Partridge, with a contemptuous
sneer;'why, I could act as well as he myself. I am
sure if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in
the very same manner, and done just as he did.
And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it,
between him and his mother, where you told me he
acted so fine, why, Lord help me, any man-that is,
any good man, that had such a mother, would have
done exactly the same. I know you are only joking, madam; though I never was at a play in London, yet I have seen acting before, in the country;
and the king for my money; he speaks all his words
distinctly, and half as loud again as the other. Anybody may see he is an actor."'
In this excellent representation of character, is seen
the effect produced upon the ingenuous mind, by one
who successfully enters into the spirit of what he says;
7r




146          VOCAL CULTURE.
The speaking of Garrick.          Partridge as a critic.
who exhibits the same feeling and passion which
would be produced upon one who should meet in
real life what he experiences in the play. In this
art, Garrick preeminently excelled. In his speaking,
we see the effect of personating with fidelity the
character which he represents. His words, the tones
of his voice in harmony with the look, the features,
the whole person, speak to us, and we are made
to feel all the emotions that succeed each other in
his mind, as the great poet himself first conceived
them. Partridge, in the simplicity of his unsophisticated nature, is unable to keep up the distinction
between fiction and reality. He trembles when he
sees the little man upon the stage tremble. Like the
child who weeps and sobs over the story of the Children in the Wood, he is moved with sorrow, as
though the play were a passage in real life. For this
reason, his judgment of the relative merits of the
speakers is false. To his simple and untutored feelings, the performer who acts as though every thing
in the scene were real, seems to him to show no skill
or art, and exhibits no special excellence deserving
of praise; but only speaks just as any one would
speak who is afraid, or pleased, or angry. But the
mouthing performer who personates the king, and
speaks his words half as loud again as the others,
and is the person whom we never meet in life, is to




VOCAL  CULTURE.                 147
Skill.                        Masterpieces of eloquence.
him the great actor. The agitation and trembling of.
Partridge are a lasting tribute to the eloquence and
rower of Mr. Garrick; but his criticisms must ever
excite merriment for their simplicity.
We learn from this illustration, that to enter into
the spirit of what we say, requires no seeming effort,
but, on the contrary, the greatest ease. If culture
of the voice induces a style like that displayed by
the performer of the king's part, it can not be too
much despised and discarded. To one who has not
a mind capable of understanding the thought and
feeling of an author, vocal training may produce
this effect. The culture which we have advocated is
not the universal panacea for imperfect delivery. It
only operates favorably upon those who have souls
to appreciate feeling and beauty. If it be made to
serve as the curb to our passions, if it enables us
to bring the voice, with all its energy and power, under complete control of a correct taste, if it yield us
that fruit which is denominated skill, then it deserves
our highest commendation.
It should be the aim in all our practice, to secure
ease and simplicity in the style of speaking. Some
Of the greatest efforts of human genius, which are
looked upon as masterpieces of eloquence, are conceived in the plainest style. Perhaps history furnishes no better example of the truth of -this princi



148          VOCAL  CULTURE.
The death of Cmsar.                 The bloody mantle.
ple, than is presented by the poet in the funeral oration of A'ntony over the corpse of Caesar. All Rome
was in commotion. Csesar had been stabbed, while
sitting upon his throne in the senate-house in the
presence of that august assembly, a Roman Senate.
All business was stopped. The people were filled
with consternation and horror at the perpetration of
the bloody deed.  Under these circumstances, Antony, the friend of Caesar, carries the dead body, just
as the conspirators had left it, to the forum, and in
presence of a vast'concourse of the people speaks in
his funeral. He recounts the martial deeds of Caesar,
and what he has done for the greatness and the glory
of Rome; and when he tells them of the love they
once bore to Caesar, his heart swells and chokes his
utterance.  He descends from the pulpit; raises up
the dead body of his friend; shows them the rents
in the bloody mantle; and tells them of the first time
ever Caesar put it on. It was a summer's evening
in his tent, after that bloody day on which he had
gained one of those signal victories which were the
glory and the pride of Rome. He tears aside the
bloody mantle and
"Shows them sweet Caesar's wounds, poo., poor, dumb moul hs,
And bids them speak for him."
He tells them of the will of Caesar, and how he had




VOCAL  CULTURE.                    149
Orchards on the banks of Tiber.       Antony's success.
remembered the poor people and given them all his
private walks and arbors, and new planted orchards
on the banks of Tiber.
The effort is successful.  The effect is overwhelming. The populace had come rejoicing at the murder
of Caesar; they go away bearing his corpse in triumph
and swearing revenge and death upon the heads of
the conspirators. They came, burning with hatred
and indignation at the very name of Coesar; they
go awav with such love and reverence for him,
"That they would go and kiss dead Ceesar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And dying, mention it in their wills."
The elements of his success are apparent.  Those
qualities which have been presented are the basis of
its merit. This passage in Shakspeare has always
been admired as a choice specimen of eloquence on
account of its homely simplicity.  The topics are so
artfully managed and so aptly chosen, that it seems
to be the spontaneous, unpremeditated expression of
his feelings. It is perfectly natural, and seems to be
just what we ourselves would have said under those
circumstances. And yet it is that kind of naturalness that is the result of art.  It is that facility and
ease, apparently unattended by effort, which we de



150           VOCAL CULTURE.
Topics aptly chosen.                         Simplicity.
nominate skill. It is characterized in all its parts by
the utmost simplicity. The speaker keeps himself
entirely out of sight of his hearers.  They are not
aware that he is the agent that moves their feelings.
Like the glass that brings the star near to us, we are
unconscious of its presence in our eagerness to view
the object.  He declares, and they believe it,
"I am no orator as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man
That love my friend;
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech
To stir men's blood; I only speak right on,
And tell you that which you yourselves do know."
But in that very seeming simplicity of style, and that
ease and naturalness in the choice of topics, he steals
away their hearts, and leads them captive wheresoe'er
he will.  He rouses their passions, he nerves them to
revenge,
" -and puts a tongue
In every wound of Caesar, that would move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.'"
In writing and in manners, the simplicity upon
which we have dwelt is'that quality that is last developed. The young composer acquires every other
element known to rhetoricians before he learns that
most important one of all, to use simple language in




VO-CA L  CULTURE.                151
Culture of the style, the manners, and the voice.    The gift of speech.
simple style.  The youth who begins to move in
company, makes many mortifying failures before he
learns the golden mean between stiff and awkward
manners, the result of diffidence, and that over-much
politeness which characterizes the egotistic and selfsatisfied spirit. So in the education of the voice.?his simplicity and plainness of utterance which, always found in our most successful speakers,
Ii';he last grace of speeoh to be acquired.
TLro elements which we have now noticed, are the
ones to which careful attention should be given in a
systemt,:i. training of the voice. Speech is among
the notblast of the gifts which Heaven' has been
pleased to Yestow upon man; and it was not bestowed, as a wily diplomatist has observed, to conceal our thoughts, but to enable us to hold ingenuous and delightful communion with each other. It
is that gift which distinguishes man from all other
created beings, and enables him to fill up the measure of existence with sociality, and thus diversify
and gladden its otherwise unendurable monotony.
The limit to the improvement of the voice, like
that of the mind itself, is indefinite. It is an instrument of great power and compass, capable of exciting the most intense grief and ungovernable joy; of
electrifying a people with patriotic enthusiasm, and
of paralyzing the heart with appalling fear; of




152           VOCAL  CULTURE.
Conclusion.
touching, as with an unseen hand, sympathies for the
sorrowing and pity for distress, and moving the tenderest feelings of maternal love.
It is the duty of every one to give the voice the
most careful training. It is a shame for a man to
possess a gift so inestimable, and not be able, on account of a defect in early education, to use it with
taste and propriety. Its culture should form a prominent part in the instruction imparted in all our schools.
It should be constantly subjected during youth to
that exercise which will strengthen it, and should
not be left to neglect even to the latest years of life.




LECTURE V.
THE  STUDY  OF LANGUAGE.
DURING the latter part of the last century, a club
of literary gentlemen in London were accustormed weekly to sup together. From  my earliest
reading, I have always been attracted by the charms
which seemed to cluster about it. They were brought
together because their tastes and their attainments
were congenial. Their learning and discrimination
were so far superior to the society which they encountered in the daily walks of the world, that it
was cheering to meet with mutual appreciation and
sympathy. They met for, a social interchange of opinions. They cast, as into a common treasury, the curiosities of literature which they had chanced to pick
up in their daily reading. They discussed the merits of authors. They talked of current events, and
criticised with unrestrained freedom the measures of
parties. They read to each other fragments of those
literary productions upon which they chanced to be
engaged, and commented upon their beauties and defects. Sometimes the party was convulsed with mer7*




154               THE  STUDY
Literary club in London. Leading peculiarity. Patterns of English stlse.
riment, at others it was wrapped in the most profound attention, as they discoursed of the principles
of morality, and those sublime truths which exalted
intellects have searched out. The hours were agreeably varied by the light artillery of wit, and humor,
and satire, land anon by the heavy ordnance of reason and solid argumentation. The members of that
club were men of rare ability.  Their writings
have made and will keep the literature of England
respectable throughout the world in all coming
time.
The leading peculiarity, the crowning excellence
of this school of literary men, was their great skill
in the use of language.e. It is true, they had won distinction in their specialties. Every Englishman will
point with pride to Burke, as the first of English orators. Johnson is the moralist and the lexicographer.
Goldsmith is the pleasant bard; Reynolds the painter,
and Garrick the actor. They ate not, however, in
these departments, preeminently models; but when
we select for patterns of purity and elegance of
English style, we unhesitatingly produce the genial
writings of Goldsmith, the finished periods of Johnson, and the magnificent speeches of Burke.
For eminence in conversational power, for social
entertainment, for enlightened opinions in the vari.
Dous departments of high art, that club has never




OF  LANGUAGE.                   155
Excelled in language.              Present tendency.
been surpassed or equaled. Among its members,
the acknowledged head was Dr. Johnson.  Though
mingling in social intercourse as equals, he acted
the monarch. When he essayed to speak, all other
tongues were silent, and while he had aught to say,
no other entertainment was desired. This superiority
was not due to him preeminently for the soundness
of his opinions; for his notions were often eccentric,
and his unconquerable prejudices frequently allured
him into false positions. But his strength was in his
great skill in the use of language. The art in which
he excelled all others, and by which he inspired his
friends and admirers with respect and reverence, was
in his power of expression. It enabled him to invest his thoughts with unusual interest. There was
a loftiness and a nobility in his style of conversation,
which his companions could not assume. All his
thoughts~ were marked with that peculiar charm
which the great master painters, by a rare combination of colors, give to their pictures.
The importance of the, gift of language, and the
necessity of its study and cultivation, are frequently
underrated.  In the modern systems of education,
the attempt is made to treasure up vast stores of
knowledge, and to fathom the intricacies of the
abstruse sciences at the expense of the study of language. Since the results of the recent researches in




156              TIHE STUD Y
To think.                     To express our thoughts.
the natural sciences have been published to the
world, and the unparalleled progress of the arts has
caused increasing demands for knowledge in practical mechanics and civil engineering, the study of
language has fallen into the background; and the
use of the ancient languages as a part of a system
of academic culture, which has had the countenance
and approval of a long line of generations, is now
scouted by many, as a barbarous relic of a bygone
age.
The comparative importance of the study of language may be inferred from our wants as intelligent
and communicative beings. There are two general
purposes of education-to teach us to think, and to
express our thoughts. The former is the basis; for
if we use language without thought, we either speak
well by accident, or we speak foolishly and bring
shame upon ourselves by the use of the gift. The
latter is equally essential, practically considered; for
although we might learn facts and be able to construct arguments, we could not make use of them intelligibly beyond the narrow limits of our own minds.
The cattle upon the hills may be burdened with
many ponderous thoughts, but no one knows of
them.
A successful system of education ministers to our
wants in both these essentials. The study of the




OF LANGUAGE.                    157
Objects of inquiry in the natural sciences.  Mathematics and logic.
natural sciences acquaints us with facts. They give'us knowledge of objects by which we are immediately surrounded in nature, and with which we have
constantly to do in life. Much that is curious and
wonderful in the designs of the Creator is brought
to light through the disclosures which they make to
us. We learn that the air we breathe is composed
according to the nicest system of weight and measure; that its capacity for moisture, for heat and cold,
and the more subtle fluids, is subject to fixed and invariable laws; that the fauna and flora upon the
surface of the earth, are distributed through the different parallels of latitude, and the low and high elevations of the same latitude, upon the law of adaptation; that there is a correspondence in structure
between the paw of the lion, the fin of the whale,
the wing of the bird, and the hand of man. Nothing
can be more useful or interesting to the human mind
than such facts as these.  They afford us fruitful
materials for thought and contemplation. We may
conceive of a human being using no other or higher
powers of mind than those necessary for investigating and recording facts, for noting and observing
such truths as these we have mentioned, and satisfied with these acquirements.
If we advance a step further, we come to the mathematics and logic, the latter comprising the theory




158              THI E  STUDY
Dr. Johnson.
and the former the practice of the same art. By
these we are taught to use the reasoning faculties in
passing from the known to the unknown. I have
said that the natural sciences acquaint us with
facts. The mathematics make us familiar with the
process by which we pass from these facts to other
and new knowledge. When to the faculty of searching facts, arranging them, and treasuring them as
data, we add the power of syllogistic reasoning, we
greatly enlarge the power and capability of the mind,
and indefinitely extend the field of its operations.
But if the education to which we trust for the
formation of our intellectual characters stop here, we
perceive that it would be decidedly defective. A
man may acquaint himself with all that has been
observed in nature, or constructed in art; he may go
back in the history of the world to the period of fog
and vapor, and come on up through the slime anrd
mud of the ages;, he may be thoroughly skilled in
all the processes of reasoning, and be familiar with
the progress of philosophy and the history of opinions; and yet he may be unable to express the results of his studies with such taste, precision, and accuracy as to commend them to the minds of scholars. Dr. Johnson had no better judgment or more
sound sense than many men of his own or succeeding generations; but his thoughts are embalmed in




OF  LANGUAGEl.                 159
Preponderance of the sciences.  The Smithsonian Institution.
the Ei'glish language, because the style in which he
has expressed them ha's met with almost universal
commendation.
Hence we conclude that no system of education is
complete, which does not provide for the successful
cultivation of language. There seems to be a tendency in arranging the courses of study in our institutions of learning, towards too great a preponderance of branches in physical inquiry, which are
dignified by the name of sciences, but which are as
yet vague and ill-defined.  This remark is by no
means intended to discredit the ardor of research in
this direction, but to question the propriety of making these inquiries in their crude state the subjects
for a course of mental discipline. A single illustration will show the progress of this tendency. Of the
patronage which has been bestowed by the Smithsonian Institution "for the diffusion of knowledge
among men," no considerable portion has ever been
given for investigation in any other department of
knowledge than the natural sciences. The whole
management of the institution has been under the
control of men who make these sciences their specialty. The memoirs of the several competitors have
been disposed of upon this principle, and the public
have received, as the yearly contributions of this
mammoth institution for the "diffusion of knowl



160               THE STUDY
Meager result.                  Languages excluded.
edge among men," a single volume of indifferently
written matter upon the shell-fish of some desert
shore, or upon the language of a decaying tribe of
Indians that has no literature, and can have no practical value to anybody. The committees of award
have been selected with an eye to this department
alone, which would seem to preclude competition in
any other field of inquiry. If the books which the
Smithsonian Institution have published should stand
as an index of the progress of knowledge among
men for the last ten years, it would show progress in
only one direction, and a meager result at that.
The same spirit is manifested in many of our seminaries of learning. The time formerly given to the
study of the languages has been shortened, or they
have been entirely discarded, and a number of new
branches in the natural sciences have been introduced. This latter step may be correct, but the former is at least questionable. If in the progress of
knowledge new branches of study need to be.employed, then let the time for completing the whole be
proportionately increased, instead of enlarging the
field of inquiry in one department at the expense of
another.
Language originates in the necessities of our nature. We express our wants, we gratify desires by
means of it. A national language is enlarged and




OF LA N G UAGE.               161
Grammar and Rhetoric.          Dialectics of Aristotle.
perfected, as the wants of that nation become more
numerous and the capacity for satisfying them  is
increased.  It rises to its greatest perfection and
beauty, where civilization has been carried to its
highest point, and the systems of mental culture
are most complete.
The branches of study which are most usually employed for the cultivation of language, are grammar,
rhetoric, and foreign languages, both ancient and
modern. Grammar and rhetoric belong to the sarne
class, and may be considered rather as passive than
as active agents in enabling us to give expression to
thought. They are not so much for the cultivation
of ease and volubility, as a means to test the accuracy
of language. They are to the writer and the speaker what the square is to the joiner, the water-level
and the plumb are to the builder. We sometimes
meet. with a man who speaks very grammatically
who never saw the inside of a grammar-who-composes with purity and elegance, and reasons logically,
who knows nothing of the elements of style, of rhetorical tropes and figures-who hardly knows the
meaning of logic, and never heard of the Dialectics
of Aristotle. This is possible, and yet he may be
guilty of gross blunders without knowing them to be
such, and without the knowledge to correct them.
The joiner may put work together without the




~162            THE STUDY
A tasteful sentence.                A great parser.
square, and the builder may lay foundations without
the level and the plumb; but he has no means to
test the accuracy of his work.
On the other hand, we not unfrequently encounter
those who know a text-book in rhetoric from beginning to end, and can describe every trope and figure
known, and yet can not construct a tasteful sentence.
This is doubtless true, and it points to a defect in the
manner in which these studies are taught. Pupils
have been made to repeat rules and formulae, without
having exercises in the practical use of them. They
have been taught to give the part of speech of each
word in the parsing lesson, the "government and
rule for it," without ever dreaming that all this is to
enable them to speak and write the English language
correctly; and they would doubtless be unable to tell,
if the question were propounded, whether man was
made for grammar, or grammar for man. The great
object of many a youth is to get through the textbook and into the Paradise Lost, and the- height of
his ambition is to be able to rattle off the lingo of
what is termed a great parser.
There are two legitimate results of studying grammar. It enables us in the first place to perceive the
elements of a sentence and their offices. It shows
us how to take to pieces the thoughts of the best
writers, and to discover the manner in which those




OF LANGOUAE.                  163
Analysis.           Synthesis.           Rhetoric.
sentences were made. It imparts a clear notion of
the different shades of idea which successive added
words and elements will give. We thus acquire a
nice discrimination in the use of language, and
thereby form the habit of expressing our thoughts
with accuracy and point. This part of grammar is
termed Analysis. It has been treated with a master
hand by Professor Green, in his " Analysis of the
English Language." It is indeed a philosophic work
and one of great merit.
The second result of this study is to enable us to
take those elements which we have found to exist in
a sentence, and to recompose them, and thus make
sentences for ourselves. It not only teaches us what
offices the several elements are designed to fill; but
what offices our own ingenuity can make them fill.
Composition should be a much more frequent exercise than parsing, and should be interspersed with it.
Taking sentences to pieces that have been well
written, and writing sentences well ourselves, should
be the chief business in the study of this science.
And the learner should be reminded by each -recurring lesson, that the object is to learn to speak and
write correctly, and that whatever does not conduce
to this result is —of but little value.
Rhetoric should likewise be made a practical matter. We sometimes think we have done well for a




164             TH E STUDY
Monsieur Jourdain in the French comedy.
student when we make him recite the author used,
and understand all the qualities of style and the
figures of speech. But we are by no means sure
that this will enable him to make a correct writer.
He may have a very exact verbal knowledge of the
concise and the verbose, of looseness and strength,
of the comparison, the metaphor, the simile, synechdoche, ontonomasia and onomatopeia, and yet he
may be entirely innocent of their use. If we were
to teach a printer's apprentice to become a ready and
skillful compositor, we would not tie his hands behind him, and then lead him round and explain the
use of the various objects employed in the different
parts of the work-the compositor's stick, the.fonts
of type, with the lines and leads. For although he
might by this means understand what-was necessary
to be done, yet he would be little better prepared to
execute a fine job of work than before our instructions commenced. But we would place the compositor's stick in his hands, put him to the font of type,
and combine instruction with practice. When Monsieur Jourdain, in the French comedy, is told that he
must bring his jaws very near together, and stretch
the corners of his mouth towards his ears whenever
he pronounced the vowel I, the direction seemed
to the unsophisticated ignoramus like very profound
learning.  But whether the pupil was enabled to




OF LANGUAGE.                 165
Teaching should be practical.
give utterance to the sound any better after he had
heard that learned rule than before, we are not informed.
It may with safety be asserted, that a large majority of those who study grammar do not reap the
proper, the legitimate results. A person who learns
to recite all the definitions of terms in grammar-to
repeat the rules for the government of words-and
to parse fluently in some poem, may acquire thereby
some discipline of mind and habits of attention; but
these are only the subsidiary results. How many of
those who study grammar improve in speaking and
writing the English language, in any tolerable proportion to the time and effort expended, I submit to
the good judgment of practical teachers to decide.
The position which the study of grammar now occupies in many of our schools, is not very unlike that
held by the steam engine in the early history of that
invention, when nearly all the- power was expended
in moving the wheels and gearing necessary to its
own motion. Until we as teachers, can learn to instruct in the branches of grammar and rhetoric in
such a manner that our pupils can bring into practice what they learn, and shall have thegir energies
directed to the great results which it is the design of
those noble sciences to accomplish, we signally fail.
The second means employed in our schools for




166             THE  STUDY
Foreign languages.                   Active agent.
improvement in speaking and writing, is the study
of foreign languages. In the remarks which I am
about to submit on the comparative value of the
ancient languages, I shall not attempt to advocate
the study of them on the ground of ancient prestige
and renown; I shall take no advantage of the fact
that Milton and Pope, and Newton and Johnson, and
Burke and Macaulay, and Webster and Prescott, the
acknowledged leaders of their respective generations,
were all ripe classical scholars. No principle of aristocracy should be brought to bear in keeping any
study in a system of education longer than the best
good of the pupil demands it.'If the ancient languages can not hold their place among the studies
usually employed for acquiring a liberal culture, on
their own merits, then let them give way to those
which will better accomplish the purpose for which
they are designed. Let every thing pertaining to a
course of study rest upon this basis.
I have said that grammar and rhetoric were passive agents in enabling us to speak and write. These
furnish us with rules and definitions by which we
may determine whether our use of language be correct. The study of foreign languages, on the contrary, is an active agent, which exercises us in the
expression of our thoughts. It gives us power and
fluen:~y in the use of words, and precision in the ar



OF LANGUAGE.                   167
Mental process in translating         Active agent.
rangement of them. It is frequently impossible to
translate a sentence so as to make it into good pure
English, by giving the meaning of each word as
found in the vocabularies; but we can readily perceive what the meaning of the author was designed
to be; hence our ingenuity is taxed to select from
our stock of words, those which will best express
the particular shades of idea which we find in the
original. We not unfrequently meet with a sentence in a foreign language, where the idea is apparent enough, but which gives us quite as much
difficulty to put into good English as to word an
original thought. For this reason, I choose to call it
an active agent in disciplining those faculties which
are employed for the expression of our ideas. It
affords us a rich experience in originating and
framing forms of expression, and in adapting the
words of our own language to choicest specimens
of thought. Hence the advantage of studying any
foreign tongue, is to enable us to use our own with
greater ease and accuracy. This is the great object
which should ever be kept in view; the end for the
attainment of which our efforts should be directed,
This so far transcends all others that it may be considered the only real purpose for which any language
is studied. It is rare that a person studies a language for the immediate purpose -of conversation.




168               T HE  STUDY
Modern language simple.                 Geometry.
Of the thousands who acquire the modern languages
in schools and colleges, the number is comparatively
small who ever speak them with tolerable propriety,
unless they mingle with those nations which use
them. The culture to be derived from the study
of a modern language is the same in kind as that
from an ancient, only differing in degree. The
former is more simple, the order of the words more
nearly resembles our own, and there are fewer
idioms in its construction. There is therefore less
difficulty in translating it. Our judgment is not so
much brought into exercise in selecting words, and
arranging them in out minds so as to express the
particular idea of the author we read, as in the
ancient. Hence the culture to be derived from its
study is less severe, and as a consequence less powerful and abiding in its influence upon our habits of
expression. If none of the propositions in Geometry
were more difficult to prove than that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, the
labor would be comparatively easy, and the mental
culture to be derived therefrom would be correspondingly small. But if we want a higher order of
discipline, we must grapple with those which are less
elementary in their nature. If, therefore, a person
only wants a limited amount of culture in expressing
his thoughts, or has not the time and means for more




OF  LANGUAGE.                      169
The French.                         Objection to languages.
extended studies, a modern language would, doubtless, be more serviceable than an ancient; and it is
advisable for those who are intending to pursue the
ancient languages to begin with some modern; especially for young persons and for ladies. The latter
being easier, will serve as a stepping-stone to the
more difficult. For this purpose there is probably
none better than the French.  It has the merit of
precision and accuracy, and very much resembles in
this particular the Greek. But it is not necessary to
institute a comparison between the merits of the several modern languages-a subject rich in thought.
A perfect system of education, as has been already
observed, acquaints us with facts, with the processes
of reasoning, and with the use of language.  If it
fails in either, it is defective. There is an objection
sometimes raised to the study of the languages, on
the plea that much time is wasted in the attempt to
learn them, which might be more profitably expended
upon other studies; that innocent boys and girls are
kept repeating the declensions and conjugationsthe hic, hcec, hoc, —bam, bo, bus,-j'ai, tu as, il a, when
the time might be employed upon studies more ccngenial and practical.* It is not difficult to excite
* The memory can be as well disciplined by treasuring up in its
garner names of substances and their relations, which will be of real
value in life, and without a knowledge of which, men and women
8




170   -            THE- STU-DY
Every science has its nomenclature.
derision in the minds of the young and the uneducated, by representing the ultimate end of the study
of the languages to be the learning and repeating
these senseless sounds. Upon the same principle, we
might excite equal derision in the minds of this class
by the cosines and abscissce in the Mathematics, by
the barbara, darii, ferio, baralipton, in Logic, or the
Mollusks, Entomostraca, Tubulibranchiates, Gasteropods,
and Rhizopods in Zoology. Every science has its nomenclature. There are terms like these in all, which
are constantly recurring, which sound like a barbarous jargon to those who know not their use.
They are employed merely for convenience, and contitute no real part of the study. In a language,
we do not look upon the declensions and conjugations as any part of the labor from  which we
are to derive the great advantage of studying it.
They are the media through which we look at the
thought. They are merely the A B Cs of the science. We learn these as a matter of course, as we
ought to be ashamed of themselves-as by repeating, till one is out
of breath, ode, tode, or that sublime piece of philology and poetryFrom o, are formed am and emn,
From i, ram, rim, ro, sse and sem:
U;, us, and rus, are formed from urn.
All other parts from re do come —
As banm, bo,. rem.
Address of R. P. Stebbios, D. D.




OF LANGUAGE.                           171
Opinion of Professor Pierce, of Cambridge.
learn the definitions of terms, and the rules in grammar, or as a mechanic learns the names of his tools,
and the printer the places where his types are kept.
If by the objection (that time is wasted upon the
ancient languages which might be more profitably
spent upon some other studies), is meant that other
studies designed to cultivate language should be
substituted in their place, then, let the value of those
studies be tested, and if they are better adapted
to  secure  the end  desired, let the languages give
place to them. I do not know that any such claim
is made.  If it be meant that the study of the languages be discontinued* entirely, without any substitute, and the time devoted to the mathematics and
* "I will confirm my argument [in favor of the natural sciences] by
the excellent and weighty authority of Professor Pierce, of Cambridge.
In a letter written the last summer to Hon. Abbot Lawrence, founder
of the scientific school connected with the university, in which he congratulates Mr. Lawrence upon the eminent success' of the institution,
he says (I quote from memory):' The school has demonstrated that a
good education can be gained without classical studies.' Such an
opinion, coming from the shades of the oldest university in the country, is especially worthy of note. So far as mental discipline is concerned, I have shown that the natural sciences are more efficient and
attractive than the study of the languages; that in studying the works
of God we may do more for our intellectual culture than in studying
the words of man. I now proceed to show that the knowledge which
we gain in the study of the sciences is as much more valuable than
that which we gain in the study of the languages, as is discipline is
better."-Address of R. P. Stebbins, D. D.




172             THE  STUDY
Several forms of objection.
the sciences, then the gift of language would be neglected, and that balance of mind which it is the business of education to strengthen and preserve, would
be lost. Again, if it is meant that too great a proportion of time is spent upon the languages, then let
the time be readjusted and equalized, so that each
class of studies may have its due share.  Let no
power perish through neglect.  If a man should
keep either of his eyes shut continuously it would
soon be enfeebled, and that beautiful and delicate
organ would perish. We become- culpable by neglect as much as by misuse. The cultivation of all
the faculties should go on hand in hand.  But,
finally, if it be meant by this objection, that time is
squandered in attempting to acquire a knowledge of
the languages without attaining the true object for
which they should be studied, or even understanding
what that object is, if it be meant that those who
pursue them study to no profitable purpose, then I
join hands with the objector, and declare the saying
worthy of all acceptation. As I have already stated,
there are but few of those who study English gram-^
mar in the way in which it was formerly taught in
our common schools, who are enabled thereby to
speak and write the English language more correctly. So, of the vast number in our schools and
universities who study the ancient languages, but a




OF  LANGUAGE.                  173
College degrees.                 Derivation of words.
small portion of them  reap the rich fruits which
the classics may be made to yield. Indeed, there are
very many college degrees that stand for a very
small amount of philosophical knowledge of the languages. Students learn the declensions and conjugations, a few of the rules for construction, the vocabulary definitions of the words, and then, as the ultin;atum, to garble the thoughts of the classic writers
in horrid English. They hobble along through the
remainder of their course upon crutches, or such a
staff as they can pick up by the way.
We are aware that even this method yields a certain amount of advantage. The pupil learns the derivation of many words, and gets a discipline of the
memory and other faculties. But these are merely
the incidental results, and can be attained much more
readily and economically in other ways. The great
business of cultivating power and expression —of acquiring exactness in the use of language-of studying the classics for the purpose of enabling us to
communicate thoughts in our own language with
greater ease and accuracy, is left untouched. The
skill derived from  seeing a thought in a foreign
tongue, and making an expression to match it in our
own, is not appreciated.  This class of students
would be much better off without the ancientlanguages than with them. They squander and wast3




174             THE  STUDY
A glorious cheat.               Ignorance of teachers.
much valuable time, that might be devoted to labor
in some useful and honest occupation. It is true that
they absorb something of the caste and polish of the
genuine students by mingling with them from day to
day, but in the main, they get in lieu of a great good
which they seek, nought but a glorious cheat. This
shocking waste of time and money, and of mental
energy in a few instances, is susceptible of explanation.
In the first place, a large number of those who fail
are either persons of very moderate endowments,
who have not brains enough to learn an ancient language, and would be much more usefully employed
if they were at home swingling flax, or they are the
sons of rich men, who do not want a college education, but whom the aristocracy of the family requires
to take a degree at the university. A much larger
number, who have fair talents, who are anxious to
become good linguists, and who are honest and faithful in the application of their energies to the accomplishment of that purpose, make a signal and most
shameful failure through the ignorance or negligence
of teachers in not pointing out the true object of
their labors, and the proper'course to be pursued in
order to attain it. The ghost of a good lady once
appeared to her very dear friend, and on being asked
if she was happy, replied that she had but one de



OF LANGUAGE.                  175
Mathematics.     Skill of the teacher.  Old method.
sire —that she might come back to- earth and -ask- forgiveness for having attempted to teach what she did
not know.
When the scholar begins the study of a language,
he has no idea of the work to be accomplished. He
sees before him nothing but the blackness of darkness, and often the shadows are very gloomy behind.
He must therefore be governed in his efforts by his
teacher. It is not in this study as in the mathematics, where- a scholar by himself will, if he be honest
and earnest in his endeavors, rarely:fail in pursuing
the true course to the end contemplated. But in a
language, he may expend much useless time and labor before he finds the direct road. Here there is
need of the ingenuity and judgment of the instructor.
He must direct the efforts of his pupils in learning
those things which he can put to immediate use, and
thus fasten them in the mind. Pupils are not unfre-,
(luently compelled to begin the study of Latin, by
learning from the grammar, principles, rules, exceptions-one indiscriminate mass, without the remotest
conception of their application, gnd frequently not
knowing the meaning of the terms used, or the examples which he is obliged verbally to commit. This
usage is parallel with that of teaching the A B Cs by
calling the child up and giving him a daily dose of
twenty-six barbarous-looking characters, with un



176              THE  STUDY
"Et tuz Brute I"                  Ollendrlff method.
heard-of names, and requiring him to remember
them.
Many of those who now denounce in unmeasured
terms the study of the ancient languages, judge of
the difficulties to be encountered in mastering the ru
diments, by the senseless labors to which they themselves were once subjected. The faults of the systems of instruction are charged upon the studies
themselves, upon which are bestowed curses loud
and long. And it sometimes happens, that those
very powers which have been acquired by the most
elaborate classical training, are employed in condemning their use. Whenever I see such shameless
ingratitude, I am forcibly reminded of the words of
the dying Caesar, " Et tu, Brute!"
There have of late been great advances made in
conducting the study of the rudiments of the languages. There are two general systems now in use.
One is called the Ollendorff method, from the fact
that he first introduced the leading features of the
system into practice in his classes, and afterward
published them for the use of pupils in the German.
Books upon that plan have since been prepared in
nearly all the languages, both ancient and modern.
The plan in that system is to put a thing into practice as soon as it is learned, and by constant repetition acquire the habit of using it correctly. As soon




OF LANGU AGE.                 177
Its peculiarity.     Comparative merits of the two systems.
as the pupil has learned a half dozen words of Latin,
he begins to translate into English and to compose
Latin. When he has learned a declension, he is required to use the several cases till he has a practical
knowledge of them. Each of the constructions peculiar to a language must be mastered, by the use of
numerous examples in which they are found, and he
is then obliged to make sentences in which those constructions shall be introduced. It will be seen at a
glance that this is the most thorough and comprehensive course that can be pursued. By this, every thing
is mastered as we proceed, and a pupil is prepared to
read and compose at pleasure.
By the other system, the student first learns the
grammar, and then begins at once to translate. By
this method he is obliged to learn many things without seeing their immediate use. He obtains an acquaintance with the various constructions only as he
recognizes them in the author which he reads. In
thus learning a language, he will be enabled to translate a classic work in a much shorter time than by
any other, and if pursued under the guidance of a
skillful teacher, may acquire a thorough knowledge
of it.
In deciding upon the comparative merits of the
two systems, we should take into consideration the
maturity of the faculties to be used. In acquiring a




178               THE  STUDY
Age of the pupil.                   Knowledge practical.
language, the memory is the one chiefly employed.
We have all observed that-in youth the memory differs from that in later years. In youth, we can readily remember facts; in manhood, we remember principles, facts being retained only as they are referred
to principles. In youth, we gather the materials
which we use when we come to the period of reflection. The mind in youth is more tenacious of facts
than it is in manhood, while principles can scarcely
be remembered because not comprehended; but in
the prime of life we remember almost entirely by
classifying our knowledge.
From  these facts, it would follow  that the 01lendorff method is better suited to youthful minds,
and that of beginning with the grammar to minds
which have arrived at the period of maturity.
The latter method, however, should never be exclusively used. The pupil should be exercised as
he advances, in putting the facts and principles
into practice.  He should be taught to write  in
the language which he is learning, such sentences
as will illustrate the use of the cases in the declensions, the moods and tenses in the conjugations, and
all the difficult constructions in syntax.  He will
thus fix his knowledge, and understand its value.*
* It is scarcely necessary to add that the progress of the pupil will
be greatly. accelerated by reducing his knowledge, as far as possible,




OF LANG-UAGE.                       179
Habits of thoroughness.
In acquiring the rudiments of a language, the student ought to be trained to habits of thoroughness
and accuracy. Its laws and the principles of interpretation should be fully understood before he is allowed to look into a classic author.  He should not
only be able to explain all its peculiar constructions
by reference to the rules of grammar, -but he should
be so familiar with them, that he can recognize them
as old acquaintances. Then there is some satisfaction
in reading a language, and the student can begin in
an original author, and advance at once to the higher
principles of interpretation and rhetorical criticism.
He thus realizes the true design of studying it.  But
how numerous are the cases where a student rushes
forward to Caesar and Virgil, and assumes the airs of
t perfect man in language, before he is prepared to
leave off his swaddling clothes, and instead of interpreting upon the principles of construction, and beto practice. From the necessity of the case, it is evident that much
of the pupil's time must be occupied in learning rules. If, however,
the teacher is confined to these alone, it becomes intolerably irksome.
The mind struggles against it, and is willing quickly to forget what is
associated with nothing but pain. It was formerly the practice to
carry a boy through the Latin grammar before he began to translate a
word; and months were consumed in this dry and repulsive labor.
It would be no wonder, if, under such a discipline, he learned to abominate the grammar, the language, and the instructor together.- Way.
land's InMectual Philosophy, page 277.




180               THE  STUDY
Good text-books.  Resources of a scholar.  A grave error.
cause he knows it is so, relies implicitly upon the
Yankee's prerogative, and guesses it out. Such a
course is fatal to scholarship.
But there is not so great a liability to error in acquiring the rudiments of a language as in the subsequent career of the student. Mastering the rudiments
is, in a great measure, mechanical.  It requires-skill
on the part of the instructor, simply in introducing
things to be learned at the right time, and of repeating the matter accomplished at proper intervals; and
in this the teacher is much relieved if he use a textbook skillfully arranged, and based upon correct principles. But when we come to the interpretation of
an original classic author, there is needed the judgment and resources of a scholar; not merely one who
understands the matter himself, but who can initiate
others into the mysteries. One great mistake that is
made in this part of the work, consists in being content with imparting rudimentary knowledge.  Hence
all the efforts through the whole course are directed
to training in the grammatical structure of the language, and the derivation of words.
Another error of a graver nature, consists in allowing students to translate a classic writer by calling
the Latin words in their English order, and giving
their vocabulary meanings.  This can not properly
be called translating, but garbling.  That can never




OF L ANG U AGE.                181
Two requisites for a translation.
be a translation which is not good pure English.
There are two requisites for a translation; the first
is, that it have the spirit of the original, and still be
correct English; and second, that it be as strictly
literal as the former condition will allow. By pursuing the method indicated above, the student may
give the meanings of the words, and still not realize
the beauty and force of the sentence or paragraph
which he is attempting to read. His whole attention
is taken up with calling the words in two languages,
and keeping an eye to the correspondence of construction. It is our object in studying a language, as
has been already indicated, to cultivate the habit of
making correct English sentences, of using language
with ease and accuriacy. There are many idioms in
every foreign tongue. If, in such phrases, we call
the words and give their English meanings, though
they may be given in the right case, mood, tense,
number, and person, yet it would not convey the
true idea, nor would it be good English. The purpose for which we are studying would be subverted;
for we should not be learning to use correct English, but a mongrel. Rhetoricians have a term for
this; they call it an idiotism. It is from the translation of idiomatic expressions that we derive the
greatest advantage. In these phrases we can usually
discover the meaning of the author, and our ingenu



182             THE STUDY
At a loss to express our thoughts.
ity is taxed in order to frame the expression which
shall properly translate it.  This is the kind of
discipline we need.  Those who have had  no
lingual culture, often find a difficulty in expressing
themselves properly.  They have the thought in
mind, their opinions are well matured, but they
can not use the language which will accurately express them, and they are obliged to appear to a
great disadvantage. The proper study of language
is designed to remove this defect, and to give power
and pointedness of expression. But if the pupil is
allowed to make translations as indicated above, it
has the tendency to cultivate the habit of looseness
and inaccuracy, the habit above all others which we
need to correct. A foreign language studied in this
way, instead of conferring a good, inflicts upon us a
decided injury, and the less time thus spent, the better. The best period of youth is lost in laboring for
that which we fail to get. The pupil may seek with
diligence, and labor with earnestness, but the apple
turns to ashes in his mouth.
After having thoroughly mastered the rudiments,
the most efficient way of reaping the largest results
from translating, is to take a whole clause or paragraph into the mind at once, and after having selected the meaning of the words with taste, to make
the English sentence with the greatest care and




OF LANGUAG E.                  183
Gibbon's habit of composition.   Awkward accuracy.
nicety, so that when uttered it may appear polished
like a gem. It is recorded by Gibbon, in that most
delightful fragment of autobiography which he has
left us, that in the composition of his History of the
l)ecline and Fall of the Roman Empire, he always
made a whole paragraph or section at a single cast,
before he had put a word upon paper. This habit is
worthy of our consideration, and can in no way be
so successfully cultivated as in translating from an
ancient language. In adopting, however, this elaborate and comprehensive system of interpretation, there
is one error which should be scrupulously avoided.
While we make our translations pure English, we
should use no words which will convey a shade of
idea different from that intended by the author. Our
first object should be to ascertain his precise meaning; we have then to use our judgment, and to tax
our inventive powers to frame a thought whose language shall correspond to the original. This exercise is very much like looking our own thoughts into
shape, and cultivates that power and energy of expression of which we so often feel the need.
In following out the principles indicated in translating a classic aUthor, there is a certain awkward
accuracy which should be avoided. The Edinburgh
Review for April, 1849, tells us of the case of the
Rev. Theophilus Mudge, " who translated Greek




184                THE. STUDY
Practical rhetoric.
through a brick wall. Imagination and invention,
whether in classics or mathematics, were strangers
to his soul.  He could have walked on his head
sooner than have composed a line of Latin or Greek
which had a spark of vigor in it. He was familiar
with Viger, and knew by heart all the private history
of ova and oirw', and all the etiquette of the subjunctive and optative moods." It is not enough to be accurate, to be literal, to make good English; but it is
requisite that a translation have some of the fire and
vigor of the original.
Another advantage which is attainable by the
study of the great master-pieces in the foreign languages, is apt to be either wholly overlooked, or
greatly underrated; it is the opportunity which is afforded for the study of the qualities of style, or practical rhetoric. We there have, in their perfection, all
the elements which rhetoricians so learnedly, and often
so abstractly and obscurely talk about.  If the student is required carefully to distinguish and analyze
the qualities of style of the author which he reads,
and to refer each trope and figure to its proper class,
he would learn more of the principles of rhetoric,
and acquire a greater facility in their use, than the
most elaborate study of a text-book upon criticism.
He would not only learn how a critic says writing
should be done, but he would have continually be



OF LANGUAGE.                   185
Opinion of Burke.  Homer.     Advantages recapitulated.
fore him a living model of the manner in which the
masters of the art have done it. "I am persuaded,"
says Burke, "that understanding Homer well, would
contribute more towards perfecting taste than all the
metaphysical treatises upon the arts that ever have
or can be written; because such treatises upon the
arts can only tell what true taste is, but Homer everywhere shows it. He shows that the true sublime is
always easy and always natural; that it consists more
in the manner than in the subject, and is to be found
by a good poet and a good painter in almost every
part of nature."
Without dwelling at length upon the minor benefits resulting from studying foreign languages, I will,
in concluding this part of my subject, sum up what
I conceive to be the advantages derived from devoting a liberal amount-of time and effort to the mastely of these studies.
I. The principal object, and the one before which
all others sink into insignificance, is to cultivate the
power of expression, to enable us to use our own
language with greater ease and accuracy.
II. Among the subordinate advantages, we may
name:
1. The knowledge which -we thereby obtain of the
derivation of all the words which have been transplanted from those languages into our own, thus giv



186              THE  STUDY
Character of the ancient authors.
ing a more elementary and comprehensive idea of
their meaning.
2. The culture which we attain of the memory,
and a habit of concentration of mind, inasmuch as
the meaning of all the words of those languages
must be learned, and the principles of their construction.
3. The opportunity it affords for the study of the
qualities of style, and of obtaining.a practical knowledge of the principles of rhetoric.
4. The information which we directly gain of the
history, mythology, politics, poetry, and oratory of
the ancients, in their original spirit, which we could
never gain by means of translations.
Thus far I have said nothing concerning the character of the ancient authors themselves. Are their
conceptions worthy of our examination? Is the style
of their writings, their acuteness of analysis, and
power of disquisition, proper to become the models
for our imitation?  If we examine with minuteness
the works of the great classic writers which are put
into the hands of the pupil, we shall find that they
challenge our respect and veneration. All that is
lofty in thought, or sublime in action, is found upon
their pages. Homer, the father of poetry, whose heroes are the gods that tread the golden halls of Olym.
pus, and kings and mighty men clad in celestial ar



OF LAN GUAGE.                 187
Alexander.                  Poetry, history, and oratory.
mor; Demosthenes, the orator whose "eloquence
shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece;" Sappho and Pindar, the sweet lyric singers, whose melodious lines are the embodiment of fancy and sentiment; Eschylus, the tragic poet, whose actors are
the deep passions of the human heart, and whose
messengers are the winged winds; Cicero, the lawyer, the terror of conspirators and the defender of
the liberties of his country; Horace, the good easy
man, whose odes smack of good cheer and sparkling
wine; and Tacitus, the historian, whose sententious
periods greatly please while they instruct-such are
the men whom the student of classic lore may make
his friends. The productions of such men are fitted
to inspire the youthful scholar with new ardor in the
pursuits of learning. The; reading of Homer made
Alexander a warrior; and many a youth since the
days of Alexander has been enamored of all that
is noble and heroic in action, by the verses of that
blind old bard.  In  poetry, in history, in oratory, he has the choicest specimens constantly before him. When we throw aside the classics, we
banish from our systems of education the lights of
all past ages; we separate from the company of those
whose genius and learning have won for them imperishable fame; we reverse the judgment of the learned
of every cultivated nation; we dismiss, for other




188               THE  STUDY
Models of excellence.         Opinions of Lord Macaulay.
guides, those who, age after age, have furnished
models for every species of excellence in thought.
Lord Macaulay, in opening his critique on the
Athenian orators, says, "The celebrity of the great
classical writers is confined within no limits except
those which separate civilized from  savage man.
Their works are the common property of every polished nation. In the minds of the educated classes
throughout Europe, their names are indissolubly associated with the endearing recollections of childhood —the old school-room, the dog-eared grammar,
the first prize, the tears so often shed and so quickly
dried."  And in closing his essay on Mitford's History of Greece, he uses these memorable words:
"Of the indifference which Mr. Mitford shows on
this subject [that splendid literature] I will not
speak, for I can not speak with fairness. It is a
subject in which I love to forget the accuracy of a
judge, in the veneration of a worshipper and -the
gratitude of a child.  If we consider merely the
subtlety of disquisition, the force of imagination,
the perfect energy and elegance of expression which
characterize the great works of Athenian genius, we
must pronounce them intrinsically most valuable.
All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice
and power, in every country and in every age, have
been the triumphs of Athens."




OF  LANGUAGE.                   189
Necessity of harmonious development.  Decide understandingly.
Before deciding that the classics shall no longer
fill a prominent place in our systems of education,
we should consider the necessity which exists of
a harmonious development of the faculties of the
mind, the importance of that class of powers which
the classics are designed to develop, and whether
we have any other course of discipline to substitute
for them, which will accomplish the work so well.
It is idle to talk of substituting the physical sciences
in their place, or to advocate such a change on the
ground that it is better to study the works of the
Creator than the words of man, as though consciousness were not as legitimate a field for the study of
the Creator's attributes as the objects about us in the
physical world. The fact is, man was made with
his face upward, and it is folly for him to spend his.
days in poking about his feet. Bunyan's muck-rake
is a simile in point. Until we have meditated these
questions, and decided them understandingly, until
we are able to build in its place a more enduring edifice, let us not tear down a structure whose foundations are firm, and whose massive and majestic walls
are covered with the moss of centuries.
Whatever means we adopt for its culture, it is the
English language that we are to speak. That good
old English tongue has been moulding and perfecting itself for many centuries. It had, at the outset,




190              THE STUDY
The English tongue.     Eminent writers who have used it.
the strongest, yet rudest materials. It has plundered
from  almost every language that was ever in the
mouths of men. It has had the advantage of the
highest civilization since the world began.
When we consider that this language which we
speak and read, is the language in which Bacon conceived and meditated those thoughts which changed
the whole course of metaphysical speculation, and
created a new era in philosophical investigationwhen we remember that Shakspeare in this language
has ranged the whole field of human character, from
the monarch on his throne to the peasant in his
straw hut, and has touched, with a master's hand, all
the passions, and humors, and sentiments of the human heart-when we read the poetry of Milton, and
are enabled by means of it to contemplate all those
images of beauty which his plastic imagination has
created in Eden's garden, and those scenes of grandeur and sublimity where angels, and the Creator
himself, speak to us —when we read the clear, the
polished, the transparent periods of Hume, the grand
and lofty paragraphs of Gibbon, the penetrating and
earnest words of Macaulay, the bold and manly eloquence of Webster, and the sweet, graceful words of
Clay, and remember that all this is in our own
English tongue —is it not worth while to study, and
meditate, and perfect our knowledge of it?




OF L A N G U A  E.             191
Conclusion.
A language of such depth, and force, and beauty, is not to be learned in a few short terms of
school and college, or with little care. To acquire
a thorough knowledge of it is the serious business of a lifetime.  By the study of its structure
and its grammatical principles, by the attentive
reading of the best authors, by the study of foreign
languages, that shall throw light upon it, and teach
us its derivation, by careful and protracted meditation, and by care in speaking, we should strive to
know it in its perfection. Some of the purest pleasure of my life has been derived from the study of
language. And although the beginning of the way
was difficult, and dusty, and fatiguing, the elevations
are easy and pleasant, and the prospects delightful.




LECTURE VI.
THE MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION.
I PURPOSE to speak of the means and ends of
a practical education —one that may produce
fruit. Education, in its special and restricted sense,
is the work of developing the faculties of the mind.
It is a process by which the mental energies are furnished with material and put to work. The mind is
sometimes compared to a storehouse, where a profusion of articles are indiscriminately stowed away.
This is an unfortunate figure. Better liken it to the
workshop of the mechanic, or to the hall of the artist, where numerous operatives are engaged in executing forms of beauty and usefulness. The various
faculties of the mind, as memory, imagination, taste,
are the workmen employed. The material which
they are engaged in transforming into beautiful and
useful shapes, the marble, the steel, the gold, the silver, are the ideas which we have of the various objects by which we are surrounded. The means by
which those workmen have acquired skill in producing specimens of their labor of greater or less excel



MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUC A T I'ON. 193
Clear conceptions.           Coin and the college degree.
lence, as regards strength, harmony, durability, finish, is, when applied to the energies of mind, what
we mean by education.
If this be a true idea, the means employed should
be such as to accomplish the end desired. We should
not labor so much to accumulate vast stores, as to
give the mind clear and vivid conceptions, and to
stimulate its energies to long and vigorous exertions.
That man is not of necessity best educated, who has
read the most books, or spent most time in the
schools. Those patents of nobility in the republic
of lettersi written upon sheepskin, and signed by the
president of a college, certifying that the bearer has
spent four years of his life within its walls, are, in too
many instances, synonymous with those labels we
see attached to bottles of patent medicine. Some of
them are good for all they call for; but too many
are the currency of quacks. This fact does not in
the least depreciate the value of a sound collegiate
education. The gold coin issued by government always carries with it the value upon its face, although
there is abundance of the spurious article in circulation that is not worth the brass of which it is made
But there is this difference between the coin and the
college degree.  Government puts its stamp only
upon- the genuine article, and we are left to detect
the bogus: by the want of it; whereas the faculty of
9




194           THE  MEANS AND
Knowledge of the present.
a college affix their official seal to the spurious and
the good alike, and we are without the means of
knowing the value of one A. M. over another, and
from frequent deception are inclined to doubt all till
we have proven them.
Many men in our midst are possessed of the soundest culture, who have never had the advantage of a
liberal education. The newspapers, and contact with
the world, have been their tutors. The intercourse
of society in the business of real life, where contending passions and counter interests impart a wholesome discipline, is a much better nurse of common
sense than the cloistered cell. Careful, keen observation has furnished them with the material of thought
from sources in which we are least liable to be deceived. The public journals, which are the only real
histories that the world produces, enable them to
compare the opinions and reasonings of other men
with their own. They thus acquire a discipline of
mind at the same time that they obtain an accurate
and practical knowledge of the times, and are thereby
prepared to act understandingly in any emergency.
If we bear in mind the definition of education which
we have already given —the furnishing the mind with
material and putting it to work-we shall not wonder at their success. The richest classical education,
unassisted by any kind of practical knowledge, af



ENDS OF EDUCATIO N.                195
Thermopylm.  Malakoff.    Self-educated men.    Halls of Congress.
fords a very uncertain guide in managing present
affairs. The student of Grecian lore may be intimately acquainted with the tactics employjed in the
siege and defense of Thermopylae; but these would
by no means be adapted to the taking of the tower
on the Malakoff. He may know all the policy and
chicanery which Themistocles employed to deceive
the Lacsedemonians, and secure the completion of the
wall of defense around the city of Athens; and yet
he may be a novice in devising a network of plots
which shall introduce or exclude slavery in the Territories.
The self-educated man frequently meets with eminent success in the management of affairs, because
his school has been the present times; while the
adept in classical learning fails, because his school
was exclusively among the ancients. If we look into
our halls of Congress we shall find that the sword of
argument cuts keenest, and is handled right and left
most dexterously, when wielded by a man who has
learned what he knows from his reading of men, and
the present workings of civil society, quite as often
as when managed by him  who has acquired his
knowledge among musty folios, or has with pale and
sickly countenance delved deepest in the mysteries
of science.  We often wonder how it is that the
members elected from the Territories and newly set-:




196          THE EME ANS AND
Everett.           Washington.          Adams.
tied States, who have enjoyed few educational advantages, can compete with our wisest and ablest men
from the old States, where every facility is afforded
for the most extensive culture.  But it not unfrequently happens that the man transferred from the
prairies and stumps of the West, holds his opinions
and accomplishes his purposes quite as successfully
as his more polished compeer. Everett and Sumner
may upon occasion deliver very finished orations;
but in originating and perfecting a bill, and in the
management of an impromptu debate, they find
themselves in an assembly at least their equals.
Washington, and Franklin, and Roger Sherman had
never received any thing from a college till its degrees of honor were showered upon them; yet their
services were quite as important to the country as
those of Adams, and Randolph, and Lee, though
these had been crowned with the bay of the universities.
I have said that the self-educated man is sometimes more practical and successful in the management of affairs than the professed scholar. I may go
farther. We sometimes consider books as the only
source of education; but a man may indeed be well
educated who knows nothing of books.  Material
for thought, and the ability of thinking with intensity-upon any question at pleasure, may be possessed




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                197
Homer.                          Wandering minstrels.
without their aid. It is possible that a man might
possess intellectual faculties of the highest order, and
carried to the highest point of cultivation, who could
not write his own name. Homer, the father of poetrFy, the favored of the muses, from whose heroes the
poets of all succeeding generations have formed their
models, and from whose glowing periods they have
drawn their inspiration, lived in an age of the world
before letters had been invented. His poems were
composed and treasured in the memory, and re.
cited to the people on festive occasions. Wandering
minstrels learned them from their author, and they
were thus handed down from age to age, through the
memory of men, till they were eventually rescued
from the weakness and casualties of that treacherous
faculty by the preserving power of letters.
It may possibly be inferred, from what has been
said, that I do not entertain a very high opinion of
our presentsystems of training, and do not look with
favor upon what is termed a liberal education. Such
a conclusion, however, would be unwarranted. The
remarks which have been made were intended to
throw light upon the term education, and to give us
a clearer conception of the true idea conveyed by it.
An earnest, genuine education is a very different
thing from those notions of it which exist in the
minds of many. The lad in the district school meas



198           THE  MEANS AND
The student in the university.  The man of mature years
ures his progress by the rapidity with which he advances in the text-books placed in his hands, rather
ithan by the depth and accuracy of his knowledge of
a single principle which he has hurriedly passed over.
He judges that to be good reading when the words
are called most rapidly, instead of that when the idea
is studied, and the proper emphasis, tone, and modulation are employed to convey the thoughts truthfully and vividly. The student in the university oftener prides himself upon having risen to the dignity
of a more advanced class, than upon that depth and
richness of thought, which accurate scholarship in
the elements of knowledge is fitted to impart, or upon that retrospective glance which he is sometimes
compelled to take when he is called to give his opinion of questions connected with his earlier studies.
He spends the best of his time in cracking the shell
of the nut, and rushes on, without stopping to take
out the meat, to something else that needs to be
cracked, and thus, ever cracking, he scarce enjoys a
nibble. He pursues the shadow and misses the substance. Nor is this disposition confined to the lad in
the district school or the stripling at college. If
we knew the secret thoughts of our fellow-men, we
should not unfrequently find the man of mature
years, who loves to be classed among literary characters, priding himself more on the number of square




E-NDS  OF ED U CA T I O N.        199
Education which will show.        Popular delusion.
feet of books which he has in his library, than upon
the number of solid thoughts which he entertains in
his head.
We thus perceive that through all the grades of
honor, among those who cultivate their minds, from
the boy on the lowest form at school up to the counselor and the man of letters by profession, there is
manifested a taste for that kind of education which
will show, rather than that which accomplishes
results, which gives us the power of continuous
thought, which nerves the mind to untiring exertion,
in which enables us to bring to the examination of
every subject, principles that have become settled
our minds from previous research and study. The
opinions of many men are worth nothing, because
they are based upon nothing.  They have never
taken any pains to accumulate facts, or reflections,
and hence, without any capital stock, they issue
opinions which are the mere random workings of a
vacant brain. Perhaps we have not on record a better example of popular delusion than that which was
practiced, a few years ago, by a waggish writer for
one of the New York journals. Sir William Herschell was, at the time, at the Cape of Good Hope,
making observations upon the heavenly bodies. A
column appeared in one of the morning papers,
headed, in flaming letters, "Wonderful Develop



200          THE  ME ANS ANI)
The image.                   Disposition to try opinions.
ments of the Telescope," in which it was asserted
that the great astronomer had succeeded, by introducing-a strong pencil of light into the dark chamber of the telescope, upon the image there formed, in
observing, with the greatest ease and distinctness, the
men and animals living upon the face of the moon.
By the representations of the piece, the man in the
moon had become our near neighbor. Now a moment's reflection, by any one who knew the first
principles of optical science, or who had even advanced so far in knowledge as to have observed his
own shadow, would have shown that the image
formed in a telescope, which is simply a shadow,
would vanish the instant a beam of light is thrown
upon it. But so artfully was the piece prepared, and
so little discriminating thought did the people bestow
upon it, that many of the learned, even, were successfully duped. Men were wild with delight at the triumphs of the discoverer, and some, I have no doubt,
were ready to invest small sums in the purchase of
wild lands there.
The time has gone by when we are to take the
dictum of a man because he pretends to know, and
is supposed to have had the opportunity of learning.
But we are disposed to try every opinion, and prove
it before adopting it. The time was when authority
was proof, or at least equal to it in value; but it is so




ENDS OF E DUCA T ION.            — 201
Teachings of Bacon.  Of Christ.    Means compared.
no longer.  In these matter-of-fact times we have
come to deal with realities and not their semblances.
We have learned to judge of the culture of a man's
mind, not by the number of years he has been engaged in study, but by what he is able to do —by the
fruits his mind is capable of yielding. This is the
great lesson that the philosophy of Bacon has taught
us-to judge of every thing by its fruits; and indeed
a greater than Bacon had, centuries before, declared,
"By their fruits ye shall know them."  It makes
very little difference whether this mental culture, this
ability to think accurately, which is the result of a
sound education, was obtained by the light of a rush
candle, after the toil and sweat of a hard day's labor, or was acquired while reclining at ease, listening
to the words of a learned professor, and gazing at
him through a gold-bowed quizzing glass. The only
question'that concerns us is, has the education been
acquired?  Is it actually possessed?  Can'we depend upon the genuineness of the pretension?  We
should be as ready to accord the palm to deserving
merit, when won we know not how, as to him who
has passed through a course of academic studies.
But lest I may be misunderstood respecting the
best course to be pursued in acquiring knowledge,
let us examine and compare the means usually employed for the accomplishment of the purpose. I
9*~




202           T T E MEANS AND
Belf-ecucated men.           More practical than profound.
have already referred to a class who have fi gured extensively in public affairs, and in the domain of letters, who are termed self-educated men. They deserve much credit, as well for their energy as their
success. Often they have been obliged to struggle
with adverse circumstances, and have accumulated
what they possess by dint of untiring application, in
the midst of the cares of laborious occupations. But
we should not allow them honor and confidence beyond what they deserve. Their education is usually
more practical than profound, more special and circumscribed, than general and comprehensive.  In
common affairs in which they have had experience,
their judgment can be relied on. But lacking that
breadth and profoundness of view, which thorough
training in the elements of knowledge is intended to
bestow, they frequently find themselves in the dark,
and obliged to act without any settled opinions.
And yet those who have least information, often
have the greatest confidence in themselves. Their
views are advanced as absolute, and with as much
assurance as though they carried the keys of knowledge. Assurance is so characteristic of such, that
Inspiration hath declared, "The fool rageth and is
confident." There are none so hopelessly foolish, or
whose advice is to be taken with so much caution,
as those who are over wise in their own conceit.




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                 203
Sentiment of Pope.    Socrates.       Delphi D oracle.
We not unfrequently meet with demonstrations of
the sentiment uttered by Pope,
"A. little learning is a dangerous thing."
As the spark which is suddenly struck, in the midst
of profound darkness, produces a blinding effect upon the sight, so the mind is sometimes overpowered
by being brought from the darkness of ignorance into the light of very common truths. But as the pupil of the eye opens and enlarges before the beaming
of intenser light, so the mind is strengthened and
expanded by the steady contemplation of new truths.
-__" shallow drafts intoxicate the brain,
But drinking deeper sobers us again."
Socrates was indeed pronounced by the Delphic
oracle wisest among men. But for what? Because,
in his own opinion, he knew nothing. Because he
had withstood the first blinding effects of knowledge,
and could now look into its serene depths, and see
how vain are our greatest acquirements compared
with what is possible to be known. The response
of the Pythia was in accordance with the declarations of Holy Writ. For we are represented as being truly wise, when we have learned enough to
make us meek and humble like little children.
The empiric and the charlatan usually acquire




204          THE  MEANS AND
The empiric.    lRls success.     Well-rea.d physician.
confidence much beyond what they deserve. Many
people manifest a disposition to confide in one who
boasts loudly, and who has seized the idea that he
has the qualifications for a leader-in some art or profession, rather than in one who, by long study and
experience, has prepared himself for a responsible
position, and puts forth his pretensions with modesty.
The profession of medicine furnishes a good illustration. There seems to be a charm that insensibly
draws many people to the quack. Let a man come
into a town with a name spelled with a continental
combination of letters, and post upon the corners of
the streets flaming advertisements that he is some
great somebody, from a great city somewhere, and
that he has letters from innumerable sick folk, who
have been miraculously cured of their leprosy by the
use of his all-curing and never-failing medicine, and
instantly the afflicted of every kind and degree of
disease, without any other knowledge of his character or his acquirements than that which they can
learn from the trumpet which he himself blows, rush
forward, eager to see which shall trouble the waters
first; and, without murmuring, pay any sums which
lie in his caprice may demand; while the well-read
physician at our doors, who has spent money and
the best years of his life in a careful study of diseases
A:ud remedies, who is acquainted with the hereditary




ENDS  OF EDUCATION.                205Thorough medical knowledge preferred. -Means.
taints and temperaments of our families, who, in sunshine or in storm, by night or by day, is ready with
a willing heart to turn out and minister to our suffer.
ings, who has watched by the bedside of the dying
mother, or father, or brother, or sister, or child, and
has faithfully tried his skill to the last, is passed by,
or paid grudgingly for his services.
In the profession of medicine, systematic and
thorough culture in the science often comes in
competition with skill practically acquired without
education.  In general, when natural abilities and
application to duty are equal, it is always safest to
employ that man who has the most thorough medical
knowledge. For he certainly can best succeed who,
in an emergency, has the most resources at hand.
That physician who is content with the knowledge
which he was obliged to acquire before he could obtain his degree, who neglects -to take and read the
leading medical reviews, and who begrudges the purchase of a few new books, from time to time, as the
knowledge of the science advances, is not the man in
whose hands we should willingly trust our lives.
It will be seen that it is my aim to advocate a
thoroughl, genuine education, and  not the mere
vague and indefinite pretension.  The best means
for the attainmen-t-of such an education are abundant, and can not be mistaken by the honest seeker.




-206          THE  ME A N S AN-DThorough understanding of what is learned.
The first requisite is a spirit of inquiry —a disposition to seek as for hidden treasure —to separate
truth from error —to sift opinions and ideas till
the true gold has been found. When such a disposition exists, and is united with a resolute pur.
pose, the possessor will make real progress. Real
progress: I use the term  in distinction from  that
fictitious progress which prevails in many of our
highest institutions, which is:measured by studies
finished, and terms passed in the college walls. We
need a system of training which shall develop a living, breathing, healthy education, and not the mere
dry bones of one. Let the boy who enters the common school, be thoroughly drilled in every principle, and be taught the why and the wherefore of
every step as he advances, so that he may depend
upon his own faculties for a reason, and not trust to
the mere arbitrary rule of the book, without knowing or appreciating its bearing.  When he enters the
high school, the same thoroughness should be insisted on in all that is taught. He should not commence the study of Latin and Greek because he is
obligel to have a knowledge of these in order to get
to the university. But he should be inspired with
a taste for those studies at the outset, and he should
be encouraged to pursue them with that enthusiasm
which is sure to be rewarded with rich fruits. The




ENDS- OF  EDUCATIOX.               207
Opposition to liberal education.       First class
attainment of a certain, positive good at each step as
we advance, should be the incentive to exertion, and
not the prospect of becoming a member of some
celebrated institution. The student in the university
should aim at the ripest schola.rship. He should not
feel that any honor is to be conferred upon him for
having passed through it, provided he has not got
that for which the university was established.
There exists, in the minds of many, a feeling of
dislike and opposition to what is termed a liberal
education.  This feeling is cherished on the part
of a certain class of the illiterate, who would in
general be opposed to all improvement beyond
what is absolutely necessary. It is the class who
send their children to the district school to learn
just enough that they may not be cheated when
they grow up; who value the pieces of hard money
which they have laid away in a chest, more than the
number of bright ideas which they can store in the
mind; and who look upon the life of the thinker,
and the professional man, as a life of laziness and
rascality, and regard with distrust all he does or says.
We do not deny that there are some among the profession of thinkers who can, upon occasion, show
some acquaintance with laziness and rascality.
There are, indeed, in every rank and grade of society, those who disgrace it. The argument of this




208          THTE l MEANS AND
Second class of objectors.    Defective early education.
class is that the tree of knowledge should be cut
down, because we sometimes chance to gather from
it bitter fruits. The objection of these is narrowminded, and goes for nothing.
But there is in a higher class, among our business
men, our practical men, an antipathy towards liberal
culture.  They are not without valid reasons for
the feelings which they cherish. There are several
causes which combine to produce these sentiments.
Many of those who receive a collegiate education
are wofully deficient in those branches which they
should have learned at the common school, and the
college is not a place to mend such deficiencies.
Many a young man who is entitled to put the first
two letters of the alphabet after his name, is unable
to spell correctly a large proportion of the words
which he uses, and in the practical business of life
he is found a complete novice, even in figures, in
geography, and in history. Having proved himself
wanting in the most common elements of an education, he is judged to be equally so in all others, and
is at once set down as an ignoramus, and his A. B.
is at a heavy discount.
Again, many of those who pass through all the
grades-of a liberal education, know so little about
the various branches to which they have been required to give their attention, that they scarcely re



E NDS OF EDUCATION.                  209
Ignorance of what is studied.     Faults in organization.
member the names of the authors they hlave read,
or the text-books in the sciences which they have
studied.  Such are held in the estimation they deserve.  They have not been true to themselVes, and
the confidence with which they would cliallenge the
world is forfeited.  They not only bring disgrace upon themselves for making pretension to that which
they do not possess, but they cast a reproach upon
liberal education, and injure the good name of the
institution  under whose fostering care they have
sought protection and support.
There is one fault in the organization and management of the higher institutions, which serves to
strengthen this feeling of hostility.  The courses of
study, in many instances, are not adapted to the purpose of making practical men, but simply scholarls.
Instead of fitting them for the duties of life, it operates to unfit them for almost any place in s:)ciety. It
is said that one of the most distinguished scholars of
the past generation, when asked by the lady where
he was spending his college vacation, to harness the
horse for her. actually put on the harnes first and
then the collar, and supposed that this was the way
they were intended to be worn. Students, on leaving college,* are often. compelled to begin life anew.
* "It is a very common complaint that thrifty, untaught farmers
grudge the cost of a thorough education for their sons and daughtera




210               THE MEANS AND
Changes contemplated.               Hodge's contempt for learning.
Instead of being fitted to take the lead in society,
they frequently find that they have much to learn,
and  that those whom  they  left behind  them  when
they  departed  for its secluded  walls, are infinitely
their superiors. In the English universities, and in
some of the best colleges in this country, changes
have been agitated in the courses of study, and
methods of discipline. Some wholesome improvements have already been introduced. The demand
for the reform is manifested in the public mind, by
Hodge, industrious and independent in his ignorance, scorns his educated neighbor, who is but a drone and a beggar with it all.'I
have succeeded well enough,' says he,'without education; why
should n't my children do the same?' Now I regret Hodge's contempt for learning, but I can not pretend to be surprised at it. On
the contrary, it seems to me most natural, and not very blameworthy.
For do but consider that the educated son or daughter too often returns to the paternal home with an ill-disguised contempt for its
homely roof, and a positive aversion to its downright labor. Who
would expect a sensible, home-bred parent to relish and value such
an education?
" That son is not truly educated who can not grow more corn on the
acre than his unlearned father, and grow it with less labor. That
educated daughter has received a mistaken and superficial training, if
she can not excel her mother in making soap, or cheese, or butter.
All these are chemical I-rocesses, in which her education should render her an adept, far beyond any untaught person. The educated
lawyer, doctor, or clergyman, whose garden is not better (I do not say
larger), and his fruit trees more thrifty and productive than his illiterate neighbor's, sadly discredits and damages the cause of education."Lecture on Education, by Horace Greeley.




ENDS OF  EDUCATION.                     211
Another reason.                          Remark of Scott.
the numerous attempts made for the establishment
of People's colleges, and the subject is receiving the
attention of some of out wisest educators.
Another reason which operates to produce a feeling against liberally educated men, arises from the
fact that they seem to manifest a desire to withdraw
themselves as much as possible from  mingling in
business affairs. They strive to create an aristocracy
of letters, and draw  a dividing line between themselves and the balance of humanity. Instead of
throwing themselves upon the current of every-day
life, and braving the struggles manfully, they stand
aloof, and talk and act as though they were a different order of beings from their fellow-men; as tlhough
to mingle in the common labors of life would detract
from their dignity and standing. They look upon
business as degrading to the scholar.* They seem
to consider it debasing to education to make it subservient to any practical or useful purpose. They
are the followers of Aristotle, who taught men that
if they would be real philosophers, they must with* Sir Walter Scott, whose literary accomplishments have filled the
world with admiration, once remarked, " There is no necessary connection between genius and an aversion or contempt for any of the
common duties of lifb.  On the contrary, to spend some portion of
every day in any matter-of-fact occupation is good for the higher powers themselves in the upshot-,"Lockhart's Memoirs of Scott.




212           THE  ME-ANS AND
Bacon.        The thinking man.     The laboring man.
draw themselves, as completely as possible, from -all
the real affairs of life that can serve a practical or
useful purpose, instead of being the followers of Bacon, wvh  taught that "knowledge is power," and
that philosophy is good for nothing unless it enables us to accomplish some useful results, unless it
can bring forth fruits.
Such a disposition manifested by those who are
educated, is disastrous to progress. The basis of a
nation or community is the laboring population;
and though it be true that the thinking men shape
the affairs of the world, yet they can never accomplish their designs without the aid of the former, and
the most splendid triumphs of knowledge must ever
be where there is the most cordial cooperation of the
two classes. The thinking man and the laboring
man must understand each other. They must realize that each is workinig for the other's good; that
they are in a common field, putting forth united exertions to overcome those obstacles which exist to
the progress of civil society, and that they are reaching forward to a success equally desired by both.
There is perhaps a greater tendency towards th's result in this country, than in our sister nations of- the
glob, owilng to our common school education, which
is open to every child, and to our free, political institutions, which act as a powerful stimulant in the




ENDS  OF  E D UCATION.              213
Preface of Mr. Agassiz's work.
universal development of mind. My confidence in
this assertion has been strengthened by a remark
which occurs in the preface to the great work of
Mr. Agassiz on the "Natural History of the United
states of America." " There is not a class of learned
nen here," says he, "distinct from the other cultitated members of the community. On the contrary,
io general is the desire for knowledge, that I expect
tfo see my book read by operatives, by fishermen, by
farmers, quite as extensively as by the students of
our colleges, or by the learned professors; and it is
but proper that I should make myself understood by
all."
The objections which are thus urged against a
liberal education, originate either from  a narrowminded view  of the subject, or from  judgments
passed upon weak and imbecile representatives of
such culture, or from the fact that those institutions
which are established for giving it, are not fully
adapted to the purpose. The principal of these objections is not really made against the systems employed, but against the abuse of them. If the results accomplished by these systems be such as they
were intended to produce, these objections would
have no weight.  Faults are charged upon the institutions for which they are not responsible. Not
every boy wh: goes to College is: capatle, or cdies'rus




214          TlE  MEAN'S AND
Faults charged upon the institutions.
of receiving that culture which the college is adapted
to bestow. It is ungenerous, to say the least;, to
make the Alma Mater responsible for the ignorance
or imbecility of every graceless son. It is impossible, by the nicest skill of the chemist, to make a
diamond out of paste, and he should not be censured
when he makes the best possible from the materials.
One man may lead a horse away to watering, but ten
men can not make him drink. Free mental agents
have their future intellectual destinies under their
>wn control, and however excellent or efficient the
instrument employed for their improvement, a wayward youth may use it for his own disgrace. An
awkward fellow may hack his face with the keenest
of razors, Indeed, some men have cut their throats
with razors.  But these facts do not prove that a
sharp razor is not a most welcome and blessed implement when a man would pare the beard smoothly
from his face,
The systems for the attainment of a liberal education have been adopted from the experience and wisdom of many centuries. They have been modeled
and perfected by a long line of illustrious generations. They come to us stamped with the approval
of the profoundest scholars of any age. Still they
are not perfect. Improvements are yet to be made.
Thig generation- hasneed of a different system of




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                215
Progress of humanity.             Political tricksters.
training from that which preceded it. The tide of
humanity sweeps onward, and what was good for today needs to be remodeled for to-morrow. There
are changes now that undoubtedly need to be made.
We should probably have more vigorous and profound scholars from our colleges, if there were a less
number of studies pursued, with a more generous
culture in those which are left. Yet in general they
are admirably adapted to accomplish the end designed.
I have thus dwelt at considerable length upon
these objections to liberal culture, that they might
be set in their proper light, and that its true interest
might not be prejudiced on account of them; and
have urged the importance of such culture, that
every one who has the ability may be induced to
acquire it., We have need of more educated men in
our midst. I do not say that we have need of more
educated ministers, and lawyers, and doctors; for- of
the latter two we have already enough to last a generation or two without any fear of failure. But we
want more educated farmers, and mechanics, and
laborers. This class of men should be so educated
that our governors and members of Congress can be
elected from among them, rather than from a set of
political tricksters, who will barter, and buy, and sell
the interests of-their constituents, and sell themselves,




216         THE  MEA NS AND
IIonest yeomanry.
body and soul. If many who occupy the chief places
in our political synagogues were this day driven out
with a scourge, as were the sinners of old, and their
places filled from among the honest yeomanry of our
land, I believe our nation would be more wisely governed, more prosperous at home, and more respected
abroad.
But there are many young men in our midst
who have the ability and the inclination to obtain
a thorough education, who have not the means of
supporting themselves during the two or three years
necessary to prepare for, and- the four years in passing through the university, with the numerous demands that are made upon one in an incidental way.
But even in the midst of adverse circumstances,
courage will do much for a man. If, in the pursuit
of knowledge, fortune seems to frown upon your
waly, take courage, and the shadows will lift before a
resolutely formed purpose, and let the light through.
Be diligent, and get all that is within your power I
Neghlet no means of acquiring information, or of
securing wholesome discipline of mind   Because
you have not all you desire, sit not with folded
hands saying you will have nothing I When difficulties irritate and perplex, and discouragements
thicken around you, do not retreat, with the excuse
that there is a lion in the way I Do not set out in




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                217
Majesty of life.                     James Watt.
the noble enterprise, and then lay down in your own
tracks!
To the youthful aspirant of to-day, who is willing
to take so humble a sentiment as labor for his watchword, there are noble examples to cheer him among
the great names of the past. Some of the brightest
lights that have adorned the generations in which
they lived, and have led the way wherever they have
appeared, are those who have been obliged to trust
to their own hands for maintenance and aid. With
strong wills and trusting hearts, their lives have ex.
hibited that majesty which action, steady, noble, successful, alone can give.
James Watt, the inventor of the steam engine, was
in early life a toiling mechanic in indigent circumstances. He was employed by the university to repair, and keep in order, the apparatus used -in illustrating the principles of natural philosophy and
chemistry. Had he been like many mechanics, he
would have been content with doing the work assigned, receiving his pay, and then smoking and
drinking a portion of it, with such companions as he
could induce to join him in the nearest saloon. But
his mind, lit up with thought, was busy in inquiring
into those laws which the apparatus he was employed
to repair was designed to -illustrate-; and the -thinking of that one man has performed more actual la0lo




218           THE MEANS AND
Nathaniel Bowditch.  Cambridge commencement. Mechanique CWleste,
bor than all the slaves that have toiled and sweat
since creation. The thinking of that man has revolutionized modern society, and unborn generations
will rise up to bless his name.
Nathaniel Bowditch was a Boston sailor boy, and
spent the greater portion of his years as a practical
sailor. He had no instructor, and no opportunities
for study, except such as the deck or the cabin of his
vessel could afford. On one occasion, it was windbound for a week in Boston harbor.  On commencement day at the university, he walked over to Cambridge to hear the performance. At the close the
president conferred some honorary titles, and among
them he thought he heard the degree of A. M. conferred on Nathaniel Bowditch.  IHe was not mistaken. They indeed gave their degrees to the sailor,
and well they might, for he was writing books which
secarcely one of the faculty of the university could
understand.  The Practical Navigator, which was
the result of his studies, has carried many a sailor
through the storms and darkness of a tempestuous
ocean, and has guided him safely over unknown
seas. He translated the M6chanique Cleste. of La
Place, made corrections in the original, and added
notes of his own, which caused the author to confess
that he was convinced that Bowditch fully comprehended his work. Te died lamented as the man, the




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                219
Elihu Burritt..
Christian, and the first mathematical scholar of his
age.
Elihu Burritt, the linguist, antiquary, and philanthropist, was left fatherless when a youth, in company with a numerous family of children, dependent
upon their own exertions for support. He apprenticed himself to a blacksmith. But his mind was not
satisfied with blowing bellows, turning his iron, and
pounding it into shapes desired. He had, previous
to this, acquired considerable knowledge of history
from the school district library. It would be a consummation devoutly to be wished, I may remark by
the way, if the authorities of this State could adopt
some means of public policy by which every school
district should be provided with a library. He was
seized with a desire of learning Latin; and while the
iron was heating, with his book secured in the chimney, where the page could meet his eye, ho conned
the declensions and acquired the rudiments of that
great language, and in the evenings of one winter he
read Virgil, that masterpiece of Latin poetry. From
Latin he passed to Greek, then to the modern languages, and finally back again to the oriental tongues.
And thus with no aid but his own right hand, and
with no teacher but his untiring mind, he has acquired a knowledge of upwards of fifty of the leading languages of the earth, and has earned a world



220           THE MEANS AND
Fifty-two languages.                    Franklin.
wide reputation as the "Learned Blacksmith."  I
have seen in the Antiquarian Hall in Worcester,
Massachusetts, writing done by him in fifty-two languages. When a scholar at the preparatory school,
just commencing my classical education, I used frequently to meet him upon the streets of that city,
and I never gazed upon that massive front, but with
the veneration of a worshiper.
Need I mention in this connection a name which
has become a household word, the cherished and
honored name of Franklin. Thrown upon the mercies of the world while yet a boy, with no opportunities for school education, it is like listening to a fairy
tale, to read the simple narrative of his life as he
tells it himself. We are carried along with magic
interest, as the panorama of his years passes by.
We see him enter the printing office as an apprentice
-the wearisome days and sleepless nights at his
books. We accompany the youth as he leaves his
native city, on that then perilous voyage from Boston to Philadelphia, wandering from his home a
stranger, without friends, except such as by his intelligence and kindness he never failed to make.
We behold him an awkward boy, wandering up the
streets of a strange city, with his three rolls of bread,
one under each arm, eating at the third. This was
indeed the day of small things, but he did not de



ENDS OF EDUCATIO N.                221
Gold-pointed kite.              British House of Lords.
spise it. He is deluded across the ocean by the false
promises of a knavish governor.  He teaches the
London printers temperance by his example, and
philosophy with his tongue. He becomes the proprietor of a printing establishment, and edits a newspaper; nor is he now ashamed of labor, for he carries the paper from the warehouse to the office upon
a wheelbarrow, pushing with his own hands. He
becomes a master spirit in literature, and penetrates
the intricacies of science. He sends his gold-pointed
kite into the heavens-with the simplicity and confidence of a child he holds out his hand to receive it,
and the forked lightning lays harmless at his feet.
Step by step he steadily mounts the heights of fame.
It was no flashing meteoric light that dashes athwart
the heavens, which he sent forth in the domain of
thought, but the warm, steady, genial rays of the
summer's sun. When the colonies became involved
in trouble with the parent country, and storms and
darkness seemed gathering in the political heavens,
the intelligence of America pointed to the humble
and self-taught Franklin as their safest counselor,
and we find him at the bar of the British House of
Lords, pleading for the interests of those weak and
struggling colonies, the objects of his affection, and
advising an infatuated ministry not to proceed to
violence against his American brethren. He joins




222           THE  MEANS AND
Court of Louis XVI.                  Eitects of labor.
hands with the Father of his Country, and those other
patriots, in making and securing the adoption of a
constitution for the independent United States, In
his age he goes, the venerable man with sage white
locks and thoughtful brow, to represent a sovereign
nation at the court of France, there to mingle with
the wise men and philosophers of that land of letters,
and to stand in presence of Louis XVI., the proudest
monarch of his age.
Such are the examples which the history of our
nation offers for the encouragement and guidance of
the present rising generation. If we turn to the account of their lives, we can easily discover what lessons of wisdom they early took. The course was
simple, for they were not widely different from other
boys, except so far as their energy made them, and
their opportunities were less than what most enjoy.
They did not despise labor. Labor was the potent
spell that transformed their leisure moments into
golden thoughts. Labor excited their childish faculties and strengthened the fiber of their minds, as the
sapling oak is strengthened by the winds and storms
of successive winters. Labor brought them into communion with the great scholars of near-and distant
ages, and enabled them to think the thoughts that
wearied their brains. Labor made the taste of books
sweet to them, as the toil of the husbandman makes




ENDS OF EDUCATION.                223
Fruits of labor.  Lays grievous burdens.  Presents it with a bahn.
him relish food. Labor presented them with such
rich and golden.fruits as encouraged and beckoned
them on. She opened before them long vistas of
glory and honor, and pointed them to the distant
goal. Labor indeed lays grievous burdens upon the
back of her devotee; but she nerves him at every
step with a vigor and an enthusiasm which makes
the burden light, and leads him on through sylvan
scenes and lovely lawns, where at every step the
senses are regaled with pleasant sounds and delicious
odors. She racks the brain and strains the sinews
of the mind, but she in turn presents it with a balm
which makes it oblivious to every ache; for who
does not forget the'pains of study, and the weariness
of thought, when he knows that he has been a victor
in the fields of knowledge?  Oh I never will he forget, who has sounded all the depths of science, the
ecstatic joy which thrills the soul, as some thought
sublime, or beautiful, or profound, breaks in upon
the mind. There are the pleasures of sense. The
palate may be gratified with the delicacies of the
table gathered from many a clime. The ear may be
thrilled by the melodies of the minstrel's harp. The
zephyrs of evening may-cool the moistened brow, or
the fragrant breathing morn may gladden the early
riser, and the eye may feast on pleasant sights. But
these pleasures are small in comparison with those




224          THE  MEANS AND
An error.           Let us be'done with schools all I colleges.
which fill the bosom of him who is an honest worshiper at the shrine of knowledge.
These illustrious examples to which I have referred, are for the encouragement and instruction of
us all. - But in our admiration of their great acquirements and brilliant success, there is one error
respecting them to which some may be liable. It
may be hastily concluded, if self-taught men can attain to such preeminence in knowledge, let us be
done with schools and colleges. Let us depend upon self-educated men entirely. We need no better.
If all were like Franklin, and Bowditch, and Watt,
such reasoning might be accepted.  We say that
these men had no teachers. This is not true. They
had teachers, and those of the very best kind. They
were their own teachers. And who would not have
rejoiced to have been a pupil under such instructors?  Who would not have delighted in learning
philosophy of Franklin, or mathematics of Bowditch,
or languages of Burritt? Our academies and colleges were not good enough for them. They were
in advance of the universities. The wisest professors
could not teach them. But if the mass of mankind
were to depend upon such instruction as each could
give himself, education would meet with a signal defeat.
It is true that Elihu Burritt possessed a mind and




E ND S OF EDU-CATION.             225:
Franklin's plan of a State University.
a will sufficiently strong to enable him to conquer
the dry and intricate details of the dead languages,
during the leisure moments snatched from incessant
toil, and to become a finished classical scholar while
working eight hours a day at the anvil. But if wre
were to search the whole earth, we could not probably find in his generation an example of so much
energy and self-sacrificing zeal.  It is doubtful
whether he would himself have become such an
eminent scholar, had he not observed the respect
which is paid to the- great minds of every age, and
been incited to exertion by knowing the results, the
fruits, which education produces. So that it is probable that liberal culture was the means indirectly
of making him a scholar. But if we were to depend
upon such means for universal- education, the great
mass of mankind would soon lapse into a state of
intellectual night, worse than that'which brooded
over the dark ages.
Perhaps no man is oftener quoted as a leading example of a self-taught man than Franklin; and yet
he was one of the strongest advocates of common
school and collegiate education. In a plan which lhe
drew up for the establishment of a State university,
he speaks in the strongest language of the importance of a classical and scientific education. "-When
youth are told," says he, "that the great men whose
10*




226          T.HE   MEANS AND
Studies for each of the professions.
lives and actions they read in history, spoke two of
the best languages that ever were, the most expressive, copious, beautiful, and that the finest writings,
the most correct compositions, the most perfect productions of human wit and wisdom, are in those
languages, which have endured for ages and will endure while there are men; that no translation can
do them justice or give the pleasure found in read.
ing the originals; that those languages contain all
sciences; that one of them is become almost universal, being the language of learned men in all countries; and that to understand them is a distinguished
ornament-they may be thereby made desirous of
learning those languages, and their industry sharpened in the acquisition of them. All intended for
divinity should be taught the Latin and Greek; for
physic, Latin, Greek, and French; merchants, the
French, German, and Spanish; and though all
should not be compelled to learn Latin, Greek, or
the modern foreign languages, yet none that have an
ardent desire to learn them should be refused; their
English, arithmetic, and other studies absolutely necessary, being at the same time not neglected." Such
was the language of the self-taught Franklin upon
the subject of liberal education; and much of the
latter part of his life was spent in devising plans for
the systematic and thorough training of the young.




ENDS OF EDUCATION.               227
Columbus.       Leverrier and Adams.   Dr. Gall.
In conclusion, we may remark that a cultivated
mind will always command respect. It is the thinking man that takes the lead in society, whether he
hail from college, from work-shop, or from tented
field. Intelligence everywhere challenges our reverence. It has been somewhere remarked, that we
should honor Columbus not so much because he discovered America, as for having thought through the
problem that there was in existence a continent heretofore undiscovered which he could go in search of.
We honor Leverrier and Adams because they figured
out, by means of mathematical principles, that place
in the heavens where a new planet could be found,
more than Dr. Gall, who actually turned his telescope
to the spangled vault and discovered the wandering
world. Our reverence and gratitude are due to James
Watt, not because he actually made a steam engine
and put it in operation, but because he thought out a
plan by which a steam engine could be made. We
should ever be ready to give credit to him whose
thoughts are most valuable, and who thinks most
successfully. The day is past when men are held
in honor for what they are presumed to know, and
are only accredited with the amount of available
stock.
It is when such principles as these prevail that real
merit receives that encouragement and credit which




228          T H E  MEANS AND
Our Common Schools.                Rally around them.
it deserves;- when thought is unfettered and is free
from  embarrassing restraint, whether imposed by
arbitrary rule, or the forms and usages of an aristocracy in letters, that the mass of intelligence in a nation will produce its greatest results. It is then that
every means adopted for mental development will
meet with the greatest success. No step has ever
been taken by any nation, which is calculated to accomplish this result so successfully, as that for the
founding and putting in operation a system of common schools,-one of the distinguishing characteristics of our civil polity. Here all the children of
the State are put on a common level. Every form of
aristocracy is broken down, and the utmost freedom
is given to every child to make the greatest progress
possible. Around our common schools all good and
true men should rally, and every means which can
improve and perfect the system, should be freely lavished upon it. It is only when made worthy the
confidence of all interested that it will accomplish
the greatest good. In general, the means that have
been adopted, are, as systems, well adapted to the
ends they are designed to accomplish.  But the
chief trouble is, they have not been put into effective
operation.  Our plans are good upon the statute
book and in the laws of- the corporatidon, -but:we
fail iu the skill necessary to make them work well.




ENDS  OF EDUCATION.               229
Disciples of Bacon indeed.
It is only when our combined organizations in all
their parts, from the primary department up through
the academy and college, to the university with its
professional schools, are made thorough and effective,
that they can produce satisfactory results, and that
the scholar who shares their benefits can become truly
learned. At every step of the progress ripe scholarship should be the motto. Then should we behold
the lovely sight of education bearing rich fruits, and
the votary of learning would become the disciple of
Bacon indeed.




LECTURE VII.
P O PUL A R  E D U CAT IO N.
IT is with feelings of sincere pleasure that [ come
to meet with an association of teachers, and with
citizens and friends anxious to promote the cause
-of education. You are engaged in a noble enterprise, one which can not fail to enlist the sympathies
of every generous bosom; and although your Institute is in its infancy, you will be certain of producing good; for if you fail to impart to those around
you that spirit which you possess, you will at least
strengthen your own aspirations, and nourish in
your bosoms a yearning for improvement and excellence, which is one of the fundamental conditions
of success. It is a source of consolation to feel that
one is aiding in the improvement of the race; that
he is doing something to dispel the darkness of ignorance, even if he holds up but a feeble taper.
One of the means of pleasure and pastime among
the ancient Greeks was the Bacchanalia.  These
iwere feasts in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine,
and were extremely popular throgihout all Greece.




POPULAR  E DUCATION.              231
Ancient Bacchanalia.           - Modern Ba echanalia.
Men and women joined in his festivals, with their
heads wreathed with vine and ivy, with fawn skins
flung about their shoulders, and blunt spears, twined
with vines, in their hands. Dressed in these grotesque habiliments they gave way to riotous revelry.
They sometimes wore the most indecent emblems,
they beat upon drums and sang lewd songs, and
thus they sought amid these frantic revels for pleasure and enjoyment.
In our own times, we have Bacchanalia, though
with less of poetry and aesthetic emblems than the
ancient. We have not the vine leaves, nor the fawn
skins, nor the thyrsi. The scenes of our Bacchanalia are the breweries, the groceries, the country taverns; and instead of the juice of the vine we have
the juice of the barley, the corn, and the old rye.
Many of the rising generation among us,-young
men at that period of life which is the bloom of
manhood, when the character is becoming established, and those opinions formed which are to give
them influence among men, and by which an estimate of their abilities is made, -seek for the highest
pleasure and gratification which they are capable of
feeling, in some dingy saloon, on the floor of which
has been splashed from year to year the juice of that
filthy weed, ground and soaked in filthier mouths,
whose vapors mingle with the thick volumes of




232       PO P U IL-AR- EDUCATION.;
Pleasures of the libertine.       Intellectual pleasure.
smoke that curl about their heads, and with the
breath of human beings from lungs steeped in the
fiery poison of copperas and logwood, and nameless
drugs,-more resembling in its Conglomerate - qualities the deadly airs that arose from the fabled lake
Mamotis, the Stygian wave, or the fumes of hell fire,
than that sweet and pleasant atmosphere which mortals ought to breathe,-surrounded by companions
whose foul-mouthed conversation is in keeping with
the filthiness by which they are encircled, who are
satisfied with this enjoyment, and are waiting to renew it during the long winter evenings of the season.
And this is pleasure I Without one ray of intellectual light, without one generous aspiration for improvement, they are willing to give themselves up
a prey to th6 passions and the appetites, and degrade
themselves to a condition worse than that of the
brutes.
I rejoice that I am permitted to meet here with
those who have a higher notion of pleasure, who
are actuated by a nobler purpose, who are stimulated to the attainment of a more exalted end. I
rejoice that I am brought into sympathy with those
who can find pleasure in intellectual pursuits. How
noble I how generousI how philanthropic the purpose:,for: which: you Diassociate..:It'.. is.: not-sensual
gratification that has called you here, but you have




POPULAR  EDUCA T I O N.           233
Labor of the philanthropist.     That of the teacher.
come to mingle in earnest inquiry for the elevation
and improvement of our common schools. You
have come to impart each to the other- the fruits
of your own experience. to detail the plans which
have proved successful in arousing and energizing
the faculties of the youth under your charge, to
speak words of cheer and encouragement to those
whose faith is weak, and who are ready to falter by
the-way.
We pour out lavishly the meed of sympathy and
praise to the philanthropist, who directly alleviates
human suffering and woe, who goes forth in a crusade against misery and crime. Such a purpose is
indeed noble and generous. But he deals only with
our physical natures. He labors to relieve us of the
wants and distresses of the body, this mortal frame
which will soon crumble into dust. You have to
do with the mind, the intellect. You are laboring
to relieve the wants, and poverty, and nakedness of
the immortal spirit, to awaken within it new energies, to prepare it to battle successfully with ignorance and folly.
It is this business of education, of Popular Education, upon which I propose to speak. Education,
the development of the faculties, the acquirement of
knowledge, must always depend upon two facts:
First, that all our perceptions either come directly or




234       POPULAR  E'DUCATI ON.
Education dependent on two facts.
are suggested by the operation of external objects
upon the five senses; and, second, it must depend
upon the mind itself whether the impressions are converted into permanent knowledge. There are these
two stand-points from which education should be
viewed. There is the process of reception and assimilation. The basis of all learning is upon these
two conditions. We may force the elements of
knowledge upon the mind as long as we please,
but if there is not the power or the disposition to
assimilate that knowledge, and make it a part of the
mental energy and being, its presentation is useless
and our efforts are vain. Nay, more, it is like the
crude and indigestible food which is taken into the
stomach, which not only fails to nourish, and is not
used by the vital energies, but throws us into pain
and convulsions.
Hence, in adopting a system of education, we
should study not only the best means of presenting
the elements of knowledge, but also the most successful methods of arousing the mind, of giving it
energy and vivifying power, of leading it forth to
seek for itself. There is no high-pressure system by
which knowledge can be forced upon the mind if
the mind is not prepared to receive it. You may
supply the child with the most skillful teachers, you
may put into his hands the best prepared text-books,




POPULAR  EDUCATION. -    235
Disposition to learn.        Books suited to the capacity.
but unless the faculties are alive, unless there is
something of intellectual hunger your efforts will be
vain.
We often see, where the faculties are crowded beyond what their age or capacity will bear, that they
become surfeited, and that quickness and readiness
which was observed at an earlier period is gone and
can never be reproduced. We observe in childhood
that " Mother Goose Melodies" and stories told in a
very simple style, or united to rhythm and melody
are most attractive and can be most easily learned.
At a later period the elements of the sciences are
understood. At a later period still, when arrived at
the age of reflection and reason, of abstraction and
generalization, the more complicate principles of the
higher mathematics are grappled with and mastered,
and the taste for'philosophical investigation is developed. If, therefore, the mind at one period is
put upon knowledge which is the appropriate object of another period, instead of conquering it, the
mind may itself be conquered by it, and its power
and elasticity for ever lost.
When we consider these two facts which I have
named chronologically, we observe that the process
of reception must precede that of assimilation. But
when we examine them in their logical order we see
that the reverse is true; that the mental energy, the




236       POPULAR  EDUCATION.
Logical order.                     Popular ignorance.
disposition to learn must exist anterior to the reception of ideas. I therefore propose to treat the subject in its logical order.
Let us then first consider this fundamental requisite of knowledge, the disposition. When we -look
abroad upon mankind and observe thevarious forms
of popular ignorance, we can not but be filled with
feelings of sadness in view of the general degraded
condition of the race. What a vast proportion of all
who are created are content to go through life ignorant of almost every thing, except the few notions
which pertain to us as animal beings I How large
a number, especially in the old world, are compelled
by the constitution of society to toil on day after day,
till the grave closes over them and relieves their
strained and aching sinews, for the morsel they eat
and the rags they wear! And yet, when we consider ignorance even in its worst forms, when we
think of this dark veil which envelops the greater
portion of the race, are we not arrested with the
thought that there is in man the ability, if there
were the disposition, to know more and rise higher;
that there is a spark now buried that might be
fanned into a flame to give life -and vivacity to the
energies?  How many are there who have absolutely no thoughts above the dead level of the animal nature, in whom, if some elements of knowledge,




POPULAR  EDUCATION.              237
Mind aroused.     Course of folly.  The rivulet.
some facts concerning the simplest phenomena we
meet could be divulged in youth, it would awaken
inquiry and set the mind in motion; and those facts
recurring, even during the periods of incessant toil,
would be the means of suggesting other and original
knowledge, the product of the naked intellect itself;
and thus step by step would they ascend in the scale
of intelligence.
How many do we meet whose minds have been
aroused and who have a purpose, but who have been
aroused by the word or deed of some base companion, and are sinking lower in ignorance instead of
advancing higher; who are intent only upon revelry
and dissipation; who, by passion and appetite unrestrained, are blotting out the human shape divine;
but who, if there had been awakened early, when
the mind was fresh and pure as the opening blossom, some aspiration for mental development which
should act as an impetus, might have made commendable progress in knowledge. We do not know
how slight a circumstance may set in motion a train
of events which shall decide the career of the man.
Like the rivulet upon the top of the mountain, a
twig, or bush, or the footprint of an animal may
turn it on the one hand where it will descend gently
through fresh. pastures, bright -sunny plots, and rich
meadows, irrigating and gladdening as it goes; or on




238       P O PULAR  E D U CGA T I ON1-.
No progress vwithout desire.
the other, will divert it there rocks and barrenness
hurl it in devious ways, until it is finally lost deep
down amid the caverns and darkness of the mountain. How many there are about us who actually
squander the time and opportunities in their possession, and permit the faculties given them to rust
out in absolute idleness and inanity; who sleep and
loll upon sofas one half of their time at least, and
spend the remainder in small talk and belittleing
thoughts; who by a judicious direction of youthful
energy, might, instead of being dwarfs and pigmies,
advance to the proportions of generous and thinking
manhood.
In considering that part of our subject which relates to the disposition of mind, we perceive that the
spirit of man can never make progress in any direction until there is a desire. One does not become a
libertine or a debauehee until he begins to satisfy
his tastes for those things which make one; until he
sees something in that course of life that gratifies his
wishes, and:is ready to put forth effort to satisfy
them.  On the contrary, a man can never become
eminent for virtue until he loves the character of
those who practice it, until his imagination is excited in admiration of goodness, and he -has enkindled in his bosom  a desire to possess it.  At
the foundation of e.very successful system.of ed



POPULAR. EDUCATION.                 239
Thirst for knowledge.                The rustic lad.
cation there must be created a thirst for knowledge; there must be a taste for intellectual pursuits, a sense of the dignity and influence of mental
culture.
Many years ago, a rustic lad, in a remote town in
Scotland, was sent to the metropolis with a message
to a man of letters. He had been bred in obscurity,
had rarely visited the village, and had never seen a
city, with its mansions, and stately edifices, and publie grounds with walks and fountains. His lot had
been one of want and poverty, his clothes homespun, his fare coarse. He had known nothing of intellectual improvement, for he had been blessed with
no intellectual advantages, and had heard only the
coarse and vulgar talk of unlettered and ill-bred
husbandmen. He was ushered into the, study of
the nobleman. He saw rare paintings and marble
sculptures of renowned men, his papers and manuscripts, his books and charts. The scenes were
novel; his heart heaved with new-born emotions;
he secretly vowed that the splendid equipage of the
scholar should one day be his.
The boy returned to his obscure habitation, but
the beautiful vision went with him. His mind had
received an impulse,-a new desire was in his heart.
With irrepressible energy of soul he toils on, anxiously waiting for that day-to come when he shall be free




240       P OPULAR  EDUCATION.
His vision realized.  Lesson taught.   Idea of utility.
from parental obligations, shall have the command
of his own resources, and be at liberty to direct them
to what end he pleases. During the long and weary
day the bright vision is before him.  His faculties
are all awake, and he reasons out many a process
before he reads it in any book.  The youth grows to
be a man,-he obtains public consideration,-he sits
in Parliament,-he becomes a peer of the realm,he possesses a mansion and pleasure grounds,-he
collects a library and paintings finer than he had
dreamed in his most sanguine hour. His vision
was realized, his youthful desire was satisfied.
From an incident like this we learn a principle of
human nature. The life of a single individual is in
some sort an index of a propensity of the race; and
we may derive therefrom.truthful lessons which are
of universal application, and which may save us
much speculation and theorizing, and tedious experiment. It is not our first purpose to impose tasks,
and to insist upon a rigid and exact verbal performance of them, as we would teach a brute governed by
instinct; but it is our primary object to create a desire, so that the youth may approach the task with
a true idea of its utility, with a manly resolution,
and
"-not like the quarry-slave at night
scourged to his dungeon."




POP ULAR  EDUCATION.                 241
Irresolution.                Friends of the French officer.
If this desire for improvement be united with a resolute purpose that will not be daunted or repressed,
it will necessarily result in progress, in noble attainments.  Without this latter element, the richest powers of mind are useless. Many a youth has
formed the desire, and has looked with a wishful eye
towards that eminence where stand the good and
great of all ages and climes, but has not possessed
resolution enough to take the first step toward reaching it. There have probably been many good poems
planned, and a few lines of the first cantos written.
Visions as grand and lofty as ever filled the poet's
eye have flitted in the fancy, but the poet's pen has
never turned them to shapes, and he dies, leaving
Milton still in the clear upper sky. The plea of the
eloquent advocate, in a cause that cries for justice,
has perhaps awakened in him a desire and a resolutely formed purpose to promote its ends with transcendant abilities. But he has formed a thousand
purposes with equal resolution, and not one of them
has ever been carried to its completion, and this one
likewise shares their fate. Many have desired to
be like Moses, leaders of the people. They think
very favorably of their own fitness for such a position, and of their own superior skill to manage and
direct, but they neglect to do any deed which will
manifest their ability.  The friends of a certain
11




242   P'OPULAR  EDU CATI I ON.
Reply of Napoleon.               "Makes no sign."
French officer besought Napoleon to confer on him
the marshal's baton. Napoleon asked them what he
had ever done. They replied that he had never yet
done any thing, but that he had great ability, and
they thought that he would one day do some noble
deed. "Well," said Napoleon, "wait till he does."
The mind of youth is not easily brought under control. It has a disposition to wander. Until strict
habits are formed, he finds a feeling of indolence
preying upon all his plans for improvement. Having the desire to press forward and having given his
time to the work, he feels ashamed to squander it,
even if he-is held accountable to no one. But how
ready he is to abandon his tasks on the slightest
pretext, and for the most trivial excuse that will acquit him before the tribunal of self. Thus he fritters
away the precious hours. He is very exact about
the performance of minor duties. He is kind and
obsequious to friends, but he leaves undone the great
duties of life, and he dies and " makes no sign."
We have thus far considered the temper of mind
which must exist in thelearner, in order that what
has been taught him may become permanent knowledge. We come now to treat the second division of
our subject, which embraces the various methods
of presenting knowledge to the pupil. The means
which have been adopted in this country, for the




POPULAR  EDUCATION.               243
Pilgrim Fathers.
general diffusion of knowledge, whether from public
provision, or from private munificence, have in general been crowned with flattering success. We have
the advantage of the experience of all other nations.
WTe are trying the latest experiment in civilization,
with a new model of government. To those ideas
which we gain from abroad, we add our own reflections and digest our systems. To some of those
means of communicating knowledge which have
been adopted among us, I shall now allude.
Of the first importance are our common schools.
To these, the populace as well as the higher classes,
are deeply indebted for whatever of education they
possess. When the Pilgrim Fathers landed on Plymouth Rock, they raised their voices in thanksgiving
to God for their deliverance from persecution and the
dangers of the ocean, and erected a church in which
they might worship Him. But, hard by the village
church they built the school-house and established
the village school. Their primary devotion was- to
the worship of God, their secondary to the education
of their children. To our Pilgrim Fathers belongs
the honor of first having established by the laws of
the State these two principles,-that each man should
worship how, when, and whom he pleased, without
compulsion or restraint, and pay no taxes to support
a ministry except such -as he should impose. upon




244      POPULAR  EDUCATION.
Roger Williams.                  Scholars of antiquity.
himself; and, second, that all the children of the
State should be educated at the public expense. lFor
the former of these we are indebted to Roger Williams and the State of Rhode Island; for the latter to
the early settlers of Massachusetts. Never before
had these two principles been promulgated by any
nation upon earth.
There were indeed schools and systems of education in the States of antiquity.  There were men in
those times, who possessed as much mental culture,
and as great scope of thought and political sagacity,
as any in our own time. Pericles was as fine an
orator and consummate a statesman as was Burke or
the younger Pitt. Cicero was as able a lawyer and
as accomplished a rhetorician as our own Webster.
But while there were a few who possessed the means
of prosecuting their studies in the celebrated schools
of those days, of becoming finished scholars, and who
uttered thoughts that have withstood the shock of
upwards of twenty centuries, and that are now studied and admired as the choicest productions of the
human mind, there was a vast populace who lived
and died in ignorance, fit instruments of universal.
slavery and vassalage. The pupils of Socrates anti
Plato could loiter in the groves of the Academy, and
about the porches of the temples; but a great major2ity of the nation must sweat and labor on during thei




POPULAR   EDUCATION.                     245
Value of every human soul.
long day, blessing the night which relieved them of
toil; and little cared the philosopher and statesman
how helots lived, or how helots died.
But when the Pilgrim Fathers came to these shores,
they brought with them  an overwhelming sense of
religious obligation.  They took the Bible as their
counsel and guide, and in accordance with that gospel which Jesus Christ came upon earth to promulgate, they looked upon every human being as of inestimable worth.  Actuated by those principles and
motives which are there displayed, they held fellowslhip with every human soul* as an image of the divine being, freighted with immortal hopes, and destined to endless existence like themselves.  The idea
that the child of the rich man was better than that of
the poor found no place in their code. Hence they
enacted, among their first laws, that every child
should be educated at the public expense, in a common school, where the rich and the poor, the high
and the low, should share in common privileges, and
where the only insignia of rank should be worn by
" "Therefore respect humanity in all its members, for in all its
members is the divine ray of intelligence, and there is an essential
confraternity in the unity of the fundamental ideas which the most
immediate development of reason produces."-I-istory of Modern Philosophy, Cousin, vol. i., page 1:34.




246       POPULAR  EDUCATION.
Eqality in the common school.      Success of merit.
him who, by devotion to learning, should aspire to
the noble qualities of the scholar.
It is the glory of that system that it draws all
classes together and, places them upon a common
level. It brings the whole collection of minds into
collision, and says to them, he alone shall conquer
who most nobly strives.  There have been objections raised to the system of common schools by
those who by wealth ~or birth feel something of the
aristocratic notion. Their children will be contaminated by contact, and will imbibe the notions of the
ignoble throng. It would be equally reasonable to
shut a boy up in a tight, warm room, for f6ar that the
damp and cold of the out-door weather would injure
his constitution, when everybody knows that if you
wish him to be healthy and robust you must let him
take the rough and tumble of life, and inhale copious
draughts of the fresh, free air, damp and cold though
it may be. If children are allowed to imbibe into
their mental constitutions the idea that they are better than other children, if they are taught to draw
lines and marks of distinction based upon wealth or
birth, they may, in mature years, be convinced by
some luckless urchin whom they were encouraged to
despise, that they have missed their calculations;
that he is the nobleman, and they are the base and
ignoble slaves, the slaves to pride and arrogance.




'P O PULAR  EDUCATION.                 247
Paruntal restraint.   Common school acquaints us with human nature.
The youth may be kept for a while from  mingling
with those of his own age, and be educated in the
family. But a time will come when parental restraint must fail. He will go forth and find associates, and he then will be at that age when imagination is strongest and the passions most impetuous,
and when he will have the least power to withstand
temptation. He will then be a fit subject for the
tempter. Flattered by the attentions of the genteel
but wily villain, he falls an easy prey to his deceitful
charms. Having been taught to hold in contempt
those beneath him in rank, and never having engaged in tussles of physical and intellectual strength,
he has no experience for estimating his powers, and
is by no means so -well prepared to act manfully his
part in life as one, who, from infancy has joined in
friendly strife with those with whom he will necessarily mingle in after years, either as his equals in ability and influence, or as the objects of his regard and
charity.
The common school acquaints us with human nature. He who has passed through the several grades
knows something of what he is to expect of man —
kind when he enters upon the active duties of life.
In general, the motives which actuate boys will actuate men, and he shapes his course in his dealings
with the latter, according to his experience with the




248'         OPUL'AR  EDUCATION.
Its success.                                France and Spain.
former.  It has a tendency also to break  up those
artificial lines and distinctions* in society which are
its bane; lines and\ distinctions which may exist in
other countries, and be permanent when upheld by
despotic power and the force of custom, but whicb,
in our country, can last only for a generation or
two at most, and which have no value founded upon
right.
The common school is the offspring of this nation
and of our fathers. The wisdom of the institution may
be seen in the general diffusion of knowledge among
us, in the success which has attended our elective
form of government, and the progress which is seen
in every branch of art and industry.  Why do we
so often hear it remarked that France and Spain,
and those other nations of Europe, are not prepared
* "One invaluable merit of out-door sports is to be found in this,
that they afford the best cement for childish friendship. Their associations outlive all others. There is many a man, now perchance
hard and worldly, whom we love to pass in the street simply because
in meeting him we meet spring flowers and autumn chestnuts, skates
and cricket balls, cherry-birds and pickerel. There is an indescriba.
ble fascination in the gradual transference of these childish companionships into maturer relations. We love to encounter, in the contests
of manhood, those whom we first met at football, and to follow the
profound thoughts of those who always dived deeper, even in the
river, than our efforts could attain."-Atlantic Monthly, March, 1858,
page 5689.




POPULAR  EDUCATION.                 249
Foundation of the republic.          Improvements.
for civil liberty? It is because the masses of the
people are not educated. The systems of education
which prevail there, even to the books and newspapers, are under the control of Jriest-craft and
king-craft, and these well know that the best means
of effecting their security is to keep the people in
ignorance, or to instruct them in those dogmas
which are alike false in theory and damning in
practice.  Our security and prosperity as a nation
must depend upon the excellence of our common
schools. If the influence of these is weakened or
destroyed we undermine the very foundation of the
republic.  They are to the body politic what the
arteries are to the human system, which convey
nourishment to every part, and were these cut off,
the heart of the nation would cease to beat.
Within a few years there have been vast improvements made in our common schools. Reports
of the secretaries of the boards of education and
the superintendents of public schools in the several
States have been printed and circulated, in which
are embodied the statistics, the experience and progress of the year, reflections upon the failure or sticcess of the various methods adopted, with recommendations for the guidance of future efforts, plans
for school-houses and cuts of furniture, the best
methods of heating and ventilation — and by means
11*




250':     P OP U LA R  E D U'C ATI ON..
Teachers' institutes.            Well-being of sclools.
of these a vast amount of reliable information has
been circulated among the people. Normal schools
have been established, in which teachers have been
thoroughly instructed in the theory and practice of
teaching, and prepared expressly for their profession.  Teachers' conventions and institutes have
been held, in which the most eminent teachers and
professors have been employed to instruct, and to
impart to their brethren the elements of their own
success, in some instances being paid by the State
for their services, and in others freely giving their
time and energies for the promotion of so noble an
object. As a consequence school-houses have been
vastly improved and furnished for the health and
comfort of the students.  Apparatus and libraries
have been provided, and all the means of advancement have been lavished upon the system.
It is only by a combination of such means, and
by such exertions, that we can derive from it full
and legitimate results.  We can not look after the
interests and well-being of our common  schools
with too much solicitude. Each man should feel
that he has a personal interest in them. His dearest affections should cling about them as being the
nurseries of the thoughts and feelings of his children.  He should look upon the teacher as his
friend, laboring for. his interests, and should incul



POPULAR  EDUCATION-.-             251
lDefend the teacher.            Interest in his work.
cate into the minds of his children confidence and
respect for him. He should never countenance in,
them a spirit of disobedience, and insubordination
to wholesome restraint, but be retdy to stand by the
right, crush out the disposition to rebellion, and
never see the teacher misused by those whom he is
laboring to improve.
The teacher on his part should feel that he can not
be a drone in a common school,  He should not
feel that he has come into a neighborhood where
he is to assemble with the youth and be a master over them for six hours a day, and then receive
a certain sum of money for his authority. But he
ought to realize that the parents of the district are
placing confidence in his capacity and virtue, that
they are entrusting to his care their children, their
dearest and most cherished earthly possessions.
They are expecting that he will be to those children
a father, and will guide them in the ways of knowledge and truth, that he will carefully unfold their
youthful faculties, that he will judiciously train and
conscientiously correct. He ought to feel that he has
a company of human souls from the hand of the
Creator entrusted to his care, whose character he is
to mould and fashion, and that he is not only responsible to those who employ him, but that he will
one day be held to an account by the Judge of all




202      POPULAR  EDUCAT ION.
Mutual interest.             Books and printed matter.
the earth for the good or evil which he may have
done, as well as for the opportunities for doing good
which he has neglected. He ought to feel that the
day is not, long enough for the accomplishment of the
great work entrusted to him, and be willing to make
any sacrifice of ease and comfort for their benefit.
If such feelings could mutually exist between patrons
and scholars, and teachers, we need never despair of
the prosperity and ultimate success of the common
school.
The second means for the diffusion of knowledge
to which I shall allude, is that of books and printed
matter. Since the invention of the art of printing,
this method of communication has been regularly increasing in power. At no period has that power been
so great as at the present, especially in this country.
Previous to the invention of the art, there were few
-books, and those were in the hands of only a few
learned men, their possession being a matter of little
consequence to the great mass of the people, who had
never learned to read. The price of a book'was
very great, as each copy had to be transcribed with
the pen.
It is with difficulty that we can imagine the condition of a great and enlightened nation existing
without newspapers. The people of Athens were
accustomed to meet in the market-ulace, where, if




POPULAR  EDUCATIO  N.             253
"What is the news?"   Speeches in Parliament and Congress.
any thing had happened out of the ordinary course of
events, it flew from mouth to mouth until the whole
city knew of it. Their own historians tell us that the
first question of an Athenian was, " What is the
news?"  It was no doubt from this anxiety to learn
the earliest intelligence of what was passing, and the
scene presented by the populace gathering in crowds
and knots to learn the particulars of some great
event, that Rumor is personified by the Grecian poets, and is represented as a sleepless divinity moving amid crowds of people, arousing and exciting
their minds. There were some advantages in this
method of learning the news over that which we
have. Those interested would be likely to hear from
all sides of the question; all the circumstances would
be brought out and discussed, and the opinions of
leading men would be known.
By our own method we hear in effect but from one
mind, with such coloring and bias as he may see fit
to- give it, unless we take several papers. Knowledge:is however more wisely diffused by ours than
we could hope to have it by any other. When a
speech is made in Parliament at night, the mails of
the morning scatter it over the whole kingdom.
Not unfrequently is the first portion of a speech delivered in Congress being read by the people of New
York and Boston, while the member is making the




25-        O PO P U L AR -E D U C A T I-O N-.
Facilities for diffusing knowledge.  Intellectual vim.
concluding portion of it. Not a circumstance of
note happens, but the newspaper carries intelligence
of it to every part of the world.
The question has been frequently raised, whether
our increased facilities for diffusing knowledge, and
the consequent increase in printed matter, have made
us really more learned than those of ancient nations.
If the question be whether we have as many very
eminent thinkers, it is an open one, for the best original thinkers of our time are men of limited general
information. Many a boarding -school miss has read
more volumes than the best intellectual philosopher
in the country. Of course much new knowledge has
been added from generation to generation, to our accumulating store, and hence our educated men have
a broader and truer basis upon which to found their
reasonings and investigations, and may consequently
arrive at a greater amount of positive knowledge.
Whether this increase of printed matter has augmented the mental energy-the intellectual vimmay be a matter of doubt. But if we consider the
aggregate of knowledge, we must decide vastly in
favor of our time. Many a school-boy might have
instructed Plato or even Locke.
It is almost needless to observe in this connection,
that there is much printed that ought never to meet
the eye of youth. To, say nothing of that class of




P OP U L A R  E D U C A TI  ON      2055
Remark of Carlyle.  Provision of books.  Taste developed.
books which is positively evil in its tendency, which
is debasing and'demoralizing to the heart, the taste,
and the intellect; many a man would have died better satisfied with himself, and his heirs infinitely better pleased, had he committed his manuscripts to the
flames instead of the hands of the printer.
It has been wisely said by Mr. Carlyle, that "the
true university of these days is a library of good
books." The responsibility which rests upon paIents
of furnishing suitable books *for the family is not
generally realized. Many men think the purchase
of a book a needless expenditure of money; believing either that it will not be read, or if it is,
that it is thenceforth good for nothing, nay worse
than nothing, for it occupies space which might be
devoted to some other purpose.
The history of many a youth, if carefully traced,
would teach parents a duty they owe to their children in providing intellectual food suited to the
several stages of mental development.  There is
manifested in every youth, at some period, an inclination to read. If the right kind of matter is not furnished when this disposition is developed, that kind
may be procured which will act as a poison or a
loathsome drug. How many a culprit and degraded
villain has dated the beginning of his evil days to the
reading of some obscene book, borrowed from  a




256       POPULAR  EDUOATION.
Biography and history.               The newspaper.
companion and read stealthily.  From its degrading
thoughts and pictures, his fancy, full of the impetuous vigor of youth, has been fired with lust and
passion that has only ceased to burn with his ruin.
Every parent, every farmer, every mechanic and
laboring man, ought to provide a few choicely selected books, that shall be accessible to the members
of his family. If they are not read at one time,
they may be at another. If he does not feel capable
of selecting them himself, let him apply to some judiciouis friend for aid. Do not buy a book for its fine
binding, or because it is recommended by some itinerant peddler.  Better have no books than those
which are bad, or even indifferent. The biographies
of good and noble men, and histories of interesting
periods in human affairs, are the species which will
be most attractive and most useful to the young.
The first book that I ever read in course was the life
of Benjamin Franklin. I read it and re-read it, until
I knew it by heart; and the reading of that one book
created within me a thirst for knowledge which I
hope will never be quenched.
It is also necessary that there be provided in every
family the means of acquiring accurate knowledge of
current events. For this purpose a newspaper, -which
keeps a faithful record of what is passing in this and
foreign countries, should be obtained. If the news



POPULAIt EDUCATION.                257
Love story.                          Public lectures.
papers of the county fail to furnish such record, if
they pander to a depraved taste-if, instead of supplying matter which shall encourage a desire for
elevated literature and morality, they contain tales
of passion improbable as untrue, throw them aside
and send to the city for one that shall meet your
wants.  No journal or periodical is worthy of
patronage, that does not commend itself to reason
and sober thought, to candid and virtuous intelligence. We can never have a high-toned morality
and a purified intellectual taste, until the common
people, the laboring classes, better understand their
duties, and have the inclination, yea, the resolution to
perform them.
I come now to consider the third means for the
diffusion of knowledge-that of public lectures. This
method of imparting instruction has, within a few
years past, grown to importance with surpassing rapidity. There is scarcely a city or a village of any
spirit in the land, that has not during the winter one
or more courses of public lectures from eminent men.
Lecturing has become a profession. There are many
men who make it their business to prepare in the
summer a number of well-digested lectures, which
they are employed to deliver during the winter.
There is one advantage in this manner of instruction not possessed by any other. The thinker him



258      POPULAR- ED U CATION.
Effects of lectures.              Error of lecturers.
self comes into the immediate presence of those whom
he would instruct. To the thoughts themselves are
added the effects of the tones of the voice, and the
accompanying look and gesture which constitute a
natural language of emotion. The influence which
one carefully-prepared lecture, pronounced by a bold,
fearless orator may produce, is incalculable. It may
set in motion a train of thoughts which will modify
or change the tone of life, not only of a single individual, but of a whole audience. An accomplished
public speaker has the power of taking captive the
minds of his auditory, and swaying them at will by
the force of his inspiration.
There is one error of lecturers to which I must
refer; it is that of framing the speech so that it may
create sensation, to the sacrifice of some leading
thought.  Pleased with the applause which one
stroke of wit has called forth, he determines on the
next occasion to out-Richard Richard. He therefore
prepares a plum-pudding, and puts nothing in but
plurns. He reasons like the Irishman, who took a
pill on retiring at night for some indisposition,
and in the morning, finding himself better, concluded that if one pill had helped him, a whole bog
would make him well, and died-under the operation.
The experiment is a dangerous one, and he who
makes it is liable to share the fate of poor Pat. It




POPULAR  EDUCATION.                259
sther objects of education.      Spirit of Washington.
should be the object of the lecturer to instruct as well
as to please. He should endeavor to create a sound
and healthful public taste, rather than stoop to a depraved one which already exists. He should lead in
the right way, rather than be led in the wrong.
I have thus briefly alluded to a few of the means
of education. As you perceive, I have treated only
of those which are employed for training the mental
faculties. I hope it will not be inferred that this is
all that is embraced in the term education. There
are the moral sensibilities, the manners, the habits,
and all those qualities which unite to form the character of a well-bred person, which are of equal im
portance with the training of the intellectual faculties, and which must form a constituent part of every
successful system. But this part of my subject I must
leave undisturbed.
These systems of education which were adopted
by the fathers of the republic, and which have beeni
developed and improved during subsequent time,
have been fruitful of wonders. Under the influence
and stimulus of these institutions, our nation has
prospered beyond any other on the face of the earth.
If the spirit of the sainted Washington could now
descend and visit us, could behold the improvement
and progress which has been made, and could look
through the length and breadth of our land, now




260      P OPULAR  EDUCATION.
Uphold these institutions.          Crime in 1854.
grown to a giant nation stretching from ocean to
ocean, he would hardly believe that this is the development of those thirteen little colonies whose independence he fought to establish, and whose integrity he prayed for and labored to maintain. And
who can say that this prosperity and growth would
ever have been attained without our educational
systems? It isthen the part of wisdom to uphold
these institutions. It is our duty to cherish them,
and build them up as the instruments of our success. Where is it that we find most misery and
degradation, and fewest of the comforts of life? It
is where there is most ignorance. Where, on the
other hand, do we find the greatest prosperity,where do we find those communities that stand in
the very first rank, and take the lead in civilization? It is in those nooks and corners of the earth
where the spirit of education and improvement has
taken up her abode, where she is permitted to dwell
in peace and honor, and where she is cherished and
loved.
During the year 1854, one hundred and sixty five
men were hung in the United States for murder. Of
this number only seven could read and write I What
a lesson! And will you, parents, neglect to educate
your children? Will you allow any opportunities'
to pass unimproved, to draw out and expand their




POPULAR  EDUCATION.                 261
Hard silver.                      Fable of tie miser.
youthful faculties, to lift them  up into a higher
and nobler life, to raise them above the dead level
of the beast that creeps, and enable them to know
something of the godlike and the divine? The
parent sometimes thinks that if he can lay up a little
hard silver, which his sons and daughters can use
after he is gone, he is conferring upon them the
greatest earthly blessing.
There is a fable in a French school-book which
reads thus: —A  miser being dead and decently
buried, arrived upon the borders of the river Styx
in order to pass over with the other spirits, the companions of his voyage. The boatman, Charon, demanded of him the price of the passage, but was
surprised to see that, instead of paying it, he threw
himself into the black river and swam to the shore,
in spite of all the entreaties that could be made.
This action put all hell in a tumult, and each judge
endeavored to find a punishment proportioned to a
crime, the consequences of which would be so disastrous to the revenues of the infernal regions. " Let
us chain him to the rock with Prometheus, where the
birds may perpetually tear his vitals," said one. " Let
us associate him with the torments of Tantalus," said
another.  "Or, what is better, let us send him to aid
Sysiphus in rolling his rock up the hill, which rolls
back as often as he rolls it up.". "No, no," said




262       POPULAR  E'DUCATION.
Intelligence the gnide of the world.
Minos, the supreme judge, "let us invent a punishment more terrible; let us send him back to earth,
to see what use his prodigal heirs make of his
riches."
Ignorance, when put in possession of wealth, is
often the instrument of evil. But knowledge will
make its possessor an honor to his race, and will
enable him to obtain wealth if he desire it. Active
intelligence is a safe investment. It needs no insurance, for it is beyond the reach of fire and flood.
Intelligence guides the business of the world. Who
is it that in your town-meetings takes the lead in
managing business, suggests the best plans, and advocates the soundest policy? Who is it that represents you in Congress, sits upon the judges' bench,
and fills the various offices of honor and trust? It
is the man of intelligence.  Who on the contrary
fill your alms-houses and jails and penitentiaries.?
The men who are debased by ignorance and crime.
Intelligence is the first element of prosperity. Intelligence builds our factories, and invents the machinery with which to fill them. It constructs our
railroads, and places upon them models of beauty
and monuments of the'skill of man. It stretches
the wire of the telegraph and teaches us to talk
with the lightning. It enables the farmer to make
two spears of grass grow where but one grew befo're.




POPULAR  EDUCATION.                 263
Conclusion.
It puts a better plow in his ground, better implements in all his labors, and thereby saves a vast
amount of the wear of muscle and weariness of
nerve of both man and beast. It gives to the possessor that confidence in his abilities, and that respect for self. which raises us in the scale of being.
It makes the earth seem brighter, the foliage richer,
the bird's song sweeter, its plumage more gaudy, the
colors of the flower more brilliant. It is the result
of that improvement of the talents entrusted to us
for which we shall be accountable. It yields us that
satisfaction which prosperity may heighten but which
adversity can never take away. It enables us to interpret the purposes and designs of the Creator, and
to approximate nearer to his character. It soothes
sorrow, tempers the asperities of disposition, mends
the broken threads of life, smoothes the rough places
in the mind and heart, and softens the pathway to
the tomb.




LECTURE VIII..THE EDUCATION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.
DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE NEW SCHOOL EDIFICE AT TITUSVILLE,
1859.
IT is a custom hallowed by long usage, to dedicate
our churches to the purposes of religious service.
On this account we regard the church with different
feelings from those entertained towards any other
place. It is sacred in our minds as the house of God,
the gate to heaven. It is here that the voice of inspiration speaks to us.  Here the father assembles with his family, where they join their voices in
songs of praise, and learn that wisdom which cometh
from above, which will make us wise indeed. There
is a sacred feeling which comes over us when we
enter the place thus consecrated, and we are filled
with better thoughts. Not that the service of dedication has rendered the church more holy than any
other place. But the thoughts we there think, and
the desires and aspirations we there cherish are more
holy. The place is united to us by sacred associations, and the spirit of devotion fills it in proportion




THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES. 265
Dedication of the church.  Dedication of the school-house.
as that spirit fills our own hearts.  The custom of
dedicating our school edifices to the purposes of
education is not so common.  But the propriety
can be established upon the same principles, and
will apply with equal force. The school-house
should be held in veneration, because our minds
are there occupied with the truths of science.  It
is the place devoted to the culture of the mental
faculties, the spiritual nature, that part of us which
is imperishable. Here we discipline those faculties
so noble in power, so expansive in design, which the
Creator has beneficently bestowed upon us. Here
are developed and strengthened those gifts which at
birth are so weak and feeble. Here we become acquainted with all those laws which have been established for the government of the world of matter
and of mind. It is here that we acquaint ourselves
with every species of knowledge which can lift man
above the brute, and advance him towards those perfections which characterize the angels and God himself. If such be the purpose of the school-house, and
such the thoughts which there fill our minds, we
ought to honor the place. It should be linked in our
hearts with sunny memories. Our fondest affections
should linger about it, and it should be set apart by
exercises of learning and wisdom to these noble purposes.
12




266         THE  EDUCATION  OF
Contempt.    Marks of the jack-knife.  The log school-house.
The youth often looks upon the school-house with
feelings of aversion and contempt. He regards it
as public property, and a fit object for the spoiler.
The marks of his ruthless hand prove his utter
disregard of its honor and sanctity.  Its broken
windows attest his disposition to pelt it with stones,
and his skill with charcoal is displayed upon its
weather-beaten sides. The seats and desks set up
for his accommodation, while preparing to fill some
exalted station, as every fond mother hopes, and
to erect
-— "' monumentum tere perennius,
Regalique situ pyramidium altius;"
display evident marks of his jack-knife, where he has
by persevering efforts wrought shapes which do infinite honor to his skill with that' useful instrument,
and rival in artistic merit Grnecian frieze and architrave; but alas I his brain-work is far less imposing,
and the memory of his school-days soon sinks into
oblivion, or is only perpetuated by the stripes on his
back.
The indifference which is manifested towards the
school-house is, in too many instances, founded upon
sufficient reasons. Formerly it was a poor hut, often
built of logs, cold, cheerless and dark, situated upon
the verge of a road trodden into a quagmire during




THE  M ORAL SENSIBILITIES.  267
Cheerless aspect.                     The school.
a greater portion of the year, with no grounds, or
shade-trees, or out-buildings, destitute of every kind
of convenient furniture or apparatus within, and presenting a dare-devil and repulsive air without. It
would be difficult to attach any reverence to the
place, even if the disposition existed.  The very
thought of it makes one shake the dust from his feet.
The picture of the long rough board slanting from
the wall, and the slab seat supported by four uglylooking legs, sets the pains and agonies capering up
the spinal cord; and the remembrance of the cold
frosty mornings spent there, puts the teeth chattering
on a summer day.
The school was often very much after the pattern
of the house. It was thought economy to employ
the services of a man who was cheap, rather than one
who was competent. His capacity was measured by
his ability to twist the locks and wring the ears of
his pupils, rather than by his power to twist difficult
problems into intelligible shapes and ring the changes
upon the truths of science. His authority in preserving order was estimated more by the thickness of the
soles of his boots, than by the sensibilities of the
soul that filled his bosom. Tasks were imposed and
forced upon unwilling minds. In place of that interest which the skillful teacher imparts to every
study, came the harsh complaint of the pupil that the




268        THE  EDUCATION  OF
Teacher's lack of interest.  Change.  Consoling reflection.
lessons were hard and dry. There was no throbbing
of the heart at a triumph achieved over doubt and
difficulty, for the pupil was not encouraged to master a difficulty, and never knew when he had
triumphed.  There was no beaming of the eye
which follows when those sublime truths are presented that make the breast of him who appreciates
them to throb with enkindling emotions, for the
teacher himself had little such knowledge to impart, and with such emotions his own bosom never
heaved.
It is a consoling reflection to the patriot and the
Christian, that a great change has taken place in the
spirit of the people, and in the intelligence and zeal
of the teachers. The latter now spends freely his
time and his substance in preparing himself to discharge with fidelity the arduous, the responsible, and
the perplexing duties which are to devolve upon
him. He seeks a thorough acquaintance with the
branches of a liberal course of training. He searches
out the most ingenious methods of explaining the
difficult questions that arise, and plans the most
attractive style of presenting his knowledge to pupils
who have never known what it is to be interested in
study. He devises expedients for bringing the wayward to a sense of shame, and wins him by gentle
and persuasive means to a course of rectitude and




TUHE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES.  269
Corresponding change of feeling in the scholar.
honor.  He is fired with a noble enthusiasm  in his
labor, which he regards as a most delightful employment of his faculties, rather than a task and a drudgery. He loves most of all to be surrounded by his
pupils, to see them interested in his instructions, and
be satisfied that they appreciate as he does their force
and bearing. He enjoys the pleasing work of leading them forth to taste the delights of learning, and
to realize that he is enstamping his own character
upon theirs, that he is fixing in their young and
tender minds his thoughts and opinions, his tastes
and habits, and that he is creating in them an influence and a motive power that shall outlive himthat shall widen and deepen to the end of time.
As a result of this improvement in spirit and capacity on the part of the teacher, there is a corresponding change in the feelings and desires of the scholar.
He finds his tasks easy because they interest him,
and he is eager to. feel all that satisfaction in his studies which he sees beaming in the countenance of his
teacher, as often as he explains or touches upon them.
He loves to encounter the difficulties of science, for
there is the field of his triumphs, from which he
bears away proud trophies. Instead of being hard
and dry, he finds his labors most pleasing and delightful, and his path strewn with flowers instead of
thorns.




270         THE  EDUCATION  OF
The new school-house.    This edifice.    Its spire greets the eye.
The people are not behind in the spirit of improvement. They have learned to honor the school-house
themselves, that they may with propriety impose it
as a duty upon their children. In the recent structures a commendable taste has been exercised. A
pleasant site has been selected, elevated, commodious
and attractive.  They have secured a generous piece
of ground, in most cases not less than an acre. They
have planted it with shade-trees, and, nicely grading,
have sown it with a carpet of green.  The structure
itself, a model of taste and beauty, light and airy,
graceful in proportion, and of approved architecture,
stands as a monument of the liberality and public
spirit of the neighborhood. Maps adorn its walls,
and books and charts and apparatus are furnished the
teacher with which to render his work successful.
Thus they provide, that the sacrifices they are making may return in blessings upon the heads of their
children.
As a proof of the spirit which prevails, we can point
with pride and satisfaction to this edifice which we
have now met to dedicate to the pursuits of learning.
Central in location, convenient in arrangement and
division, simple but attractive in architecture, substantially built and tastefully finished, it commands
the respect alike of citizen and stranger.  Its taper
spire, pointing heavenward, first greets the eye of the




THE  M ORAL  SENSIB ILITIES.  271
The lawn.    The shades.    Education in its higher sense.
traveler as he approaches this beautiful valley, and is
the last object that lingers in the vision as he leaves it.
The lawn, which you have provided, will be the scene
of artless and playful sport, and generations of children will be happy because of it.- The trees which you
have planted may not grow to shelter you, but your
children and your children's children shall sport beneath their shade, and when grown venerable with age
" Will mind them of departed joys,
Departed never to return."
You plant and build for the future. There is a pleasure and a satisfaction in the thought. You furnish
for posterity a better chance for education than you
had yourselves. You labor to leave the world better than you found it. The time will come when
your work shall perish, and this noble edifice shall
moulder into dust; but the record of your efforts
will be secure. It will be chronicled upon immortal
spirits which shall here be educated, upon a material
that knows no decay.
Education, in the common acceptation of the term,
has reference to that knowledge and discipline which
is acquired by pursuing certain branches of study in a
text-book at school. And when we speak of a common school education we usually intend the expression to comprehend a course of instruction in those




e72        THE  EDUCATION  OF
The Pedagogue.             Bard of the Deserted Village.
branches which the law provides shall be taught.
Although this is a correct signification of the term in
the restricted sense, it is far from embracing all that
we ought to expect from a course of training that is
to prepare one for that higher life, which, in manhood and in a future state of existence, we should
be prepared to live. The boy may be very good at
arithmetic, but as he grows up he may make a very
bad citizen and an unprofitable member of society.
He may be an elegant grammarian, and still become a wretched husband and father. He may be
an accomplished scholar in the Greek and Latin,
and yet be dead to every noble sentiment that
should fire the bosom of the patriot and the Christian.
That will prove a very unprofitable school for fitting children to be men and women, in which there
is nothing learned but what is provided for by legal
enactments. The teacher who can give no other instruction than this, is unworthy of a place in a profession whose office is to develop and train our
spiritual natures with all their complication of desires and energies. Under the soubriquet of Pedagogue such an one is everywhere the butt for merriment and ridicule, and the sweet bard of the
Deserted Village has made him  the object of his
playful satire:




THE  MORAL  SEN SIBILITIES.   273Book knowledge.                        Practical thinking.
"The village all declared how much he knew:'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
Lands he could measure, times and tides presage,
And e'en the story ran that he could guage.
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew."
Education, in its more liberal sense, or if you
choose to call it school-day culture, embraces a
wider scope. It includes in the means employed,
all those influences which can be brought to bear
upon the mental and moral improvement of the
pupil. Its excellence must depend upon its adaptation to accomplish this result. In our haste to
make our children wise, we are often blind to their
real interests. We give them a great deal of book
knowledge to a very little plain common sense. A
routine of tasks monopolizes the time for practical
thinking. The mind is jaded with words and rules
and problems, in place of being energized and
warmed by those thoughts and feelings which have
inspired the benevolent and good in all times. It is
quite as much a matter of education to learn a nice
sense of honor in keeping one's word, as the most
elaborate and complete explanation for extracting
the cube root that has ever been discovered.  That
piece of knowledge which prompts us to forgive him who has done us an injury, is not less
valuable than the precise wherabouts of Kamt —
12*'




274        THE EDUCATION  OF
Moral nature needs culture.           Often in use.
schatka or the South Sea. The spirit of brotherly
love and generosity, that, spurning all mean and
selfish motives, will sacrifice its own advantage for
the happiness of another, or will dare even to peril
life for the general weal, will be quite as servicable
to a man as the ability to dispose of some knotty
point in grammar.  To love God and to keep his
commandments is a lesson that we need thoroughly
to learn and constantly to practice, more than all
the sciences which human ingenuity has reduced to
form.
Leaving therefore those studies that are commonly
taught at school, I purpose during the remainder of
the passing hour to speak of THE EDUCATION OF
THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. We are possessed of
a moral nature as well as mental powers, and the
former need care and culture equally  with the
latter. In the exercise of the common duties of
life, the moral powers are far more frequently
brought into action than the mental. As often as
man comes in contact with his fellow-man, he has
occasion to display some of the motives by which
he is governed. There are no text-books especially
adapted to giving instruction in this department
of culture, though the workls of Mrs. Willard, and
of Messrs. Cowdry and Hall, have of late supplied teachers with what has been felt to be a great




THE EM ORAL SENSIBILITIES.  275
Books on morals. Something constantly going wrong. Teacher will be heard.
want, and may with much propriety and profit be
used. But, though the teacher has no text-books to
guide him  in his instructions, there are abundant
opportunities for impressing upon the young a sense
of their duties and responsibilities, and of making
virtue and honor respectable, yea, lovely in their
eyes. In the affairs of a school there is something
that is constantly going wrong and needs to be
righted. A company of youth whose habits are all
unfixed, vacillating in purpose, and weak in judgment, many of whom have had little or no correct
training at home, and some even destitute of civil
breeding, may be considered of all others the most
fruitful of improprieties and errors, demanding the
most frequent counsel and correction, and the most
severely testing the virtue and faithfulness of him
who is its leading spirit.
There is no person from whom a word of advice,
a caution against the violation of a moral duty, an
appeal to the sensibilities, will be received and be
impressed upon the pupil with such force, as from
the lips of the faithful, conscientious, virtuous schoolteacher. He will get his ears and reach his heart
when no other man can. There is no other person
who stands in a position in which the opportunities
of giving such instruction are so abundant; and
which must be considered by the teacher not merely




276        THE  EDUCATION  OF
Teacher's responsibilities.  Love to God.  Profanity.
as opportunities which he may improve or neglect,
but as occasions imperatively demanding his guiding
hand.  When I think of the vast and responsible
duties which properly devolve upon the teacher, and
which so much need to be performed in addition to
the regular routine of lessons, and remember'the
indifference and unconcern with which they are
viewed by many who eagerly and unhesitatingly
assume them, I tremble for the interests of the rising
generation, and for the reckoning those teachers will
finally make with the Judge of all the earth. For
no man can assume a position of trust, without becoming amenable to justice for a neglect of its most
important duties.
The first and highest of the moral ideas which
should be instilled into the minds of children is that
of love to God. The propriety of this is so obvious
that it does not need to be urged. And yet there
are many teachers who never utter a word of counsel or entreaty to enforce the duty. His pupils may
violate the Sabbath and hear no word of disapproval
from him, and perchance he is guilty of the same
offence himself. They may show a disregard, and
positive contempt for their Maker by cursing his
name, and he has not moral courage, or moral sensibility enough to admonish them of their open defiance and blasphemy, and perchance, in moments of




THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES.  277
Alive to sensibility.               The Scriptures.
passion, or of folly, such language is not an unknown
tongue to him. It may not be expedient for him to
make a law that his pupils should not violate the
Sabbath, or that they should not use profane language. I believe that it is not wise for him to make
many arbitrary laws. But he can, by an appeal to
their better feelings, make those vices appear mean
and despicable, and particularly odious in the character of the youth. He can, if his heart is alive to
sensibility and these moral virtues, carry them along
with the zeal and enthusiasm by which he is actuated, and make them think and feel with him.
A portion of Scripture, without note or comment,
should be daily read in school. The Bible is the
great source of spiritual life and light. It contains
every thing respecting our moral relations that we
need to know.  There is in many parts of our
country, a strong opposition to the use of this book
in the common school. But there can be no valid
objection to its continuance, unless some considerable
portion of the scholars would be excluded on account of it. No man can be injured by reading its
truths; and if he is disposed to receive he may realize from it inestimable treasures. If God has made
a revelation of his will to us, he undoubtly intended
that we should read it. How can we make our lives
conform to the teaching of his word, if we do not




278        THE  EDUCAT.ION  OF
Objections considered.
read it? Is not the opening of school a proper place
and time for attending to it? It is objected that we
have not a true translation, but this does not affect
the principle that God's word ought to be read in
school. If we have not the triue translation, then let
us have one that is. He has given us his word in an
exact and definite language, and there is no doubt
but that it can be made truly into our language. If
those in present use are wrong, then let the errors be
pointed out and righted. It is God's word, not this
bible or that bible, that we claim should be read to
the young. We are not yet too wise to do without
it, and the youthful mind has need of its purifying
influences. It is objected that we can not understand it. "Do unto others as ye would that they
should do unto you."  Who can not understand
that?  The bible is full of truths just as plain.
There is enough truth on almost any page, that can
be understood by the child even in tender years, to
give us correct moral principles in all the relations
of life. Every child in the State has the opportunity
of becoming sufficiently well educated to read and
understand for himself the spirit and meaning of the
great moral lessons which the bible contains. I
would unhesitatingly condemn any disposition on
the part of the teacher to inculcate narrow or sectarian dogmas. But against the simple reading o'




THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES.  279
The Bible as a literary production.  Its moral precepts.
the Scriptures, either by the teacher or by his pupils,
there can be no reason assigned that can have weight
in a rational mind.
If we regard the Bible merely as a literary production, where shall we seek one among the works of
the greatest masters, that for elaborate finish, for
figures of speech, for majesty and sublimity of
thought can be compared to it. Where in the whole
range of literature, ancient or modern, can we find
such a description of spring as that portrayed by
Solomon.  "For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is
over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the
time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice
of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell; arise, my love, my
fair, and come away." It is but a few words that the
inspired penman employs. But in those few words
is brought to mind a combination of the most delightful and pleasing objects that nature, prodigal of
beauty, presents. The senses each in turn are regaled
with an object appropriate to please.
Where- among the books of the sages do we find
such sentiments as these: "Love your enemies; do
good to them which hate you; bless them that curse
you; and unto him that smiteth on the one cheek
offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy




280        THE EDUC.ATION  OF
Antidote needed.           Love of country or patriotism.
cloak, forbid not to take thy coat also; and as ye
would that men should do to you do ye even so to
them." What mind is not made better by the contemplation of such truths as these?  Are not these
the sentiments which, of all others, need most to be
impressed upon the mind of the child? Is it niot by
nature selfish and revengeful, and envious and grasping? Does it not need an antidote to all these evil
desires and passions?  When our Lord was hanging
upon the cross, and his enemies were spitting upon
him, and in his agony giving him vinegar to drink,
and thrusting their spears into his side, those divine
sentiments which had marked all his teachings did
not forsake him, and he prayed, "Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do."
The second of the moral sensibilities which the
scholar should sedulously cultivate is love of country
or patriotism. After the allegiance due to our Maker,
we owe our warmest devotion to the country in which
we live. It is from civil government that we derive
the right and privilege of enjoying every other blessing. The state is the kind mother who dispenses the
means for using, unmolested and untrammeled, every
social and virtuous principle; or, if she fails to do
this, it is because her children have not been instructed in the lessons of patriotism.  For, if the
rising generation as they grow up to assume the




THE  M OlRAL  SENSIBILITIES.  281
Occasions for instruction.  History.     Geography.
rank of citizenship, are fully imbued with the love
of civil liberty and civil rights, they will never permit any other form of government to dictate to them,
inasmuch as they are in their sovereign capacity the
primal source of all civil power. The pupil at school
should be reminded of these truths, and be taught to
feel and fully appreciate the spirit of independent
thought and action, subject only to the law of love and
virtue. The study of history, which should be one of
the branches taught in every school, will furnish abundant opportunity for practically carrying into operation the spirit of the principle which has been stated.
But even if history is not a study in school, and
there is no text-book in civil science used, there are
numerous occasions constantly presented, in the occurrences of the school-room, in the allusions of reading lessons, and in the facts connected with geographical science, which may naturally form the basis
for such instruction. The sensibilities of youth are
usually alive to feelings of patriotism, and to deeds
of noble daring. The interest is easily enlisted in
allusions to those adventures which characterized the
opening scenes of our revolution.  Where is the
scholar whose heart does not kindle with emotion at
a recital of the heaven-inspired patriotism of Washington? Where is the scholar whose heart does not
beat quick in contemplating the self-sacrificing spirit




282          THE  EDUCATION   O-F
Revolution for Independence.                 Washington.
of the hero who, in the flower of manhood, left home
and the wife of his bosom, subjected himself to the
varying chances of war, and freely devoted life and
energy to the future good of his country? What
youth is not elevated in spirit as he beholds, in all
its breadth and loveliness, the sublime virtue which
was displayed in every event in the life of the Father
of his Country? But the feelings which inspired the
chief were shared by every rank, and grade of the
army to the lowest subaltern in the camp. There is
something marvelous and sublime in the spectacle of
a poor people, just established' in their homes in the
wilderness, with no hope of profit or reward beyond
the inestimable treasures of civil liberty, embarking
in a cause so arduous, seeing in prospect their property pillaged, their homes burned, submitting to a
sacrifice of all they held dear, periling even life itself,
and, in a spirit of unexampled patriotism, gathering
about their trusty leader and pledging — " their lives,
their fortunes and their sacred honor."
" Patriots have toiled and in their country's cause
Bled nobly, and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse,
Proud of her treasure, marches with it down
To latest times, and sculpture in her turn
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass,
To guard them and immortalize her trust."




THE  MORAL SENSIBILITIES.  283
Trophies of Miltiades.   Sleepless nights.    Patriots and martyrs.
I have always been struck with the spirit of that
Athenian yohth, who declared that the trophies of
Miltiades would not let him sleep. So thoroughly
imbued was he with the spirit of patriotism and the
love for glorious action, that his young heart yearned
for labors fitting to the hero. The sight of the enemies of his country, bearing down upon and ready
to crush her, enkindled within him the desire to
drive back the impending foe, and vindicate her
honor and her glory. He envied the renown of that
skillful leader who was achieving those honors in the
field which he longed to win. And those sleepless
nights gave presage of that future brilliant career of
glory that lay open before him.
It should be the care of the teacher to impress
upon his pupils on all suitable occasions, the necessity of virtuous principle in the conduct of affairs.
He should strive to implant in their youthful minds a
love for honesty and integrity of purpose, that may
serve as their guide in transacting all the duti;esz
which are incident to citizenship. They should be
made acquainted with the examples of those sainted
patriots and martyrs in all ages of the world, who
have sacrificed their lives to the living principles of
liberty and truth, and whose names, surviving the
wreck of thrones and dynasties, will be remembered
to the end of time. The struggles between privilege




284        THE  EDUCATION  OF
Privilege and despotism.             Love to man.
and despotism from which they have been made to
suffer should be recounted, that the pupil may understand the full value of their virtue and at how
dear a price the present condition of society has been
purchased.'He should be taught by a comparison
of the most striking lessons to appreciate the difference between good and bad government, and to love
those institutions which we, as Americans, prize so
much. In a word, the youth of our common schools
should treasure up the principles of the most en-'ightened patriotism.
The third of the moral virtues which should
receive attention, is love to man. It is comprehended in that golden rule, " Do unto others as ye
would that they should do unto you," and embraces
the principles of reciprocity and philanthropy. The
school is eminently the place where the evil passions.
and propensities are most signally developed. Here
they are brought plainly to view. Families of children are thrown together.  Perhaps the parents
of those children have had difficulties and cause
for quarrel, and cherish bitter feelings of enmity
which are shared by them. Pride of family and
of birth is brought into collision with the born
plebeian. The aristocracy of wealth brushes against
the tattered garments of poverty. It is the task of
the teacher to reconcile all these conflicting elements,




THE  MORAL SENSIBILITIES.  285
Conflicting elements.                 Spartan youth.
to bring peace out of contention, and form  and
beauty out of chaos. The law of love and kindness is to be established, and the universal brotherhood of man to be vindicated in the face of pride
and the dubious claims to ancestral honors. He is
to tax his ingenuity to see how mean, and cowardly,
and sinful he can make every species of vice appear,
"And virtue in her shape how lovely."
It was a part of the education of the Spartan
youth to learn to steal, and he who could take that
which did not belong to him, and avoid detection,
carried off the palm. We sometimes see a similar
disposition manifested in our time. There are those
who look upon a man who can, by misrepresentation
and deceit, overreach another in a bargain, as shrewd
and smart. That species of vice which, in common
parlance, passes under the name of cheating, is, in
some circles of society, considered as a fundamental element of success in business, and the boy who
manifests acuteness in the practice of it as possessing
flattering prospects ahead. It is evident that every
such propensity is directly antagonistic to the divine
precept, and that if one be right, the other must
be wrong. The teacher ought to labor assiduously
to eradicate from the mind any such impression, for
it is not only dishonest and sinful in itself, but it




286        THE  E-DUCATION  OF
" Honesty the best policy" a sublime truth.
may be the fruitful source of other crimes of a darker
dye. That "honesty is the best policy" is not only
a trite maxim that is glibly spoken, but it is a sublime truth that every man would do well to profit
by. Duplicity may succeed for a time, but ill-gotten
gains yield little satisfaction to the possessor, and
they leave a stain upon the soul which neither time
nor circumstance can remove. There is no feeling
that so warms a man's heart as a consciousness of
rectitude. Firm in his reliance upon his innocence,
he does not fear the face of any man.
"What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?"
Hence honesty, in its broadest sense, becomes not
merely a moral duty, but a duty which he owes most
of all to himself, to his success and his happiness.
The- minds of children are, in general, keenly
sensitive to wrong and insult, and the disposition
to retaliation and revenge is quick.  Buoyant and
ingenuous in spirit, they have not yet learned to
brook delay and disappointment in the righting of
wrongs, and the impulse is to take justice in their
own hands. When cuffed and abused, the propriety
of turning the other cheek is not quite so apparent.
The North American Indians believed that revenge
was a duty and a virtue. Revenge was sweet to
them. If a dispute arose between two, and an en



THE  1MORAL  SEiNSIBILITIES. 287
Teachings of our Saviour.         Spirit of the precept.
counter ensued in which one was killed, it was the
duty of the nearest relative to take up the quarrel,
and thus eventually whole tribes and nations would
become involved from a personal altercation, trifling
and unimportant. As a consequence, they were
kept constantly in warfare, and whole countries were
thereby depopulated. How contrary to this were
the mild and gentle teachings of our Saviour. Love
your enemies. Forgive as ye hope to be forgiven.
The teacher will often be under the necessity of
reproving and correcting the spirit of revenge in his
pupils, and if he would make his corrections effectual
and vital, he must labor earnestly to incorporate
into their mental constitutions the principles of a
perfect morality.
It is vain to attempt to point out all the varied
forms which a transgression of this golden rule may
assume. Nor is it necessary always to take notice
of all the violations of it that may come to his
knowledge, or to warn his pupils of all the sins
which they are liable to commit. It is sufficient if
he imbue them with the spirit of the precept, and,
by frequently reminding them, seek to establish it
as a ruling principle in their character. The great
design should be to make it appear lovely in their
eyes, for a youth will never be induced voluntarily
to adopt a principle and to enter upon a course of




288          THE EDUCATION OF
Mask of Comus.              Character of youth easily moulded.
conduct which has not first been made to appear
desirable. Virtuous action ever carries with it its
own great reward, and he who in youth becomes
enamored of it, is likely to enter upon that bright
shining way that shines more and more unto the
perfect day, and is surely fortified against the allurements to vice and folly. The invitation of the attendant spirit in the Mask of Comus is seasonable,
and happy is he who accepts it:
" Mortals that would follow me,
Love virtue; she alone is free.
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her."
The moral sensibilities comprehended in love to
God, love to country, and love to man, are the leading ones that pertain to our conduct in the affairs of
life. From the manner in which these are trained
and developed results that character which we are
to sustain. During our school days, our thoughts
and dispositions are pliant and peculiarly susceptible.
The character is then easily moulded. It is especially
desirable that wholesome instruction should then be
given. A neglect of proper training or a wrong
impression may be the source of incalculable evils.
Scratch the rind of a sapling, and the crooked and




THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES.  289
Requisites for a teacher,              Correct habits.
disfigured tree will bear testimony for ages to the
work of your ruthless hand. It is important that the
teacher should have a thorough acquaintance with
the branches he is to teach, be able to explain what
is difficult in an interesting and intelligible manner,
and have the desire and the ability to excite in his
pupils a zealous ardor in the preparation and recitation of their lessons; -but it is even more important
that he should be capable and intent upon giving the
highest and best instruction to thle moral sensibilities.
To this end it is absolutely essential that he be a
man of irreproachable character, nay, that his life be
a noble exemplification of the moral virtues. He
should be a pattern after which his pupils may profitably copy. The child is naturally imitative, and the
teacher is placed in a position in which he is constantly the noticed and the observed, and if his character be not exemplary, evil consequences may result
to his precious charge. It is desirable that the pupil
should be instructed and encouraged in the adoption
of correct habits. Neatness, cleanliness, proper care
of property, order, respect to superiors and to the
aged, politeness in personal intercourse, kind and respectful salutations and adieus, courtesy to strangers,
a becoming modesty and reserve at all times —to inculcate and enforce these upon his pupils should be
the object of his constant care.  But alas I for the
13




290          THE  EDUCATION  OF
A cracked bell.         Aaron Burr.           Byron.
pupils and the best interests of the school, if the
teacher be not himself instructed in these habits.
We hear much said about the importance of an
education, and we talk about the inestimable treas,ures of knowledge; but learning and knowledge, and
all the fruits of study and discipline, are of little
worth if not under the guidance of correct moral
principles.
_ " Talents angel-bright,
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In false ambition's hand to finish faults
Illustrious, and give infamy renown."
A cracked bell gives forth discordant sounds, and
the more it clatters the more we are disgusted.
Knowledge without virtue gives to its possessor the
ability to perpetrate untold evil upon society and
upon himself, and is immeasurably a worse condition
than ignorance. Aaron Burr was a scholar of eminence and one of the most accomplished lawyers of his
age, but he used his great abilities and his fine learning for the overthrow of the most cherished institutions of his country, and died despised and abhorred
as a traitor and a villain.  Byron, with all his talents
and fine poetic sentiment, was a shameless rake, and
with the might and power of his genius, which every
one of judgment and taste must admire, he inflicted
a wound upon society that ages of pious teaching




THE  MORAL SENSIBILITIES.  291
Records of crime.                    The passions.
and example will not cure.  That education may
be important, and possess the value of inestimable
treasures, it must be under the control of goodness.
The records of vice and crime which every week's
paper brings to us, and the disgusting- and heartsickening details of the execution of miserable
wretches even in boyhood, declare with commanding emphasis that our systems of education are deficient in the culture of the moral sensibilities.
Every person who has been eminent in a career
of crime, has, upon reflection, been constrained to
attribute his unfortunate course to the guidance of
his own evil fassions.. Indeed, the passions when
fired with sinful purposes make a man a very devil.
But there are no passions of which we are possessed
that are in themselves evil or unholy. They are
merely the instruments which we may use for a good
or a bad purpose. Our Saviour was possessed of all
the passions which fire the bosom of the most weak
and sinful, but under the control of fervent piety they
served to make his life sublime. The passions are
necessary to the highest attainment of virtue. Without them to inspire us with fervor, our mental faculties would be powerless. There would be no high
purpose and firm resolve, no heroic valor and noble
daring, no martyrdom for truth, no self-sacrificing
philanthropy. Our passions are our best having




292        THE  EDUCATION  OF
Responsibility of the teacher's position.    Needs.    Weakness to falter.
when under proper control, and are the means of
that high life which commands respect and love.
The teacher occupies a position of great responsibility. The importance of the trust must be apparent
to every reflecting mind. It is a profession requiring
qualifications the most varied, demanding a combination of rare talents and elaborate culture. The
demands which an enlightened discharge of his duty
will make upon him, require that he should go forth
to his labor fully panoplied with knowledge and virtue. He needs liberal mental culture, but he needs
most of all a double portion of God's Holy Spirit to
enlighten his understanding and warm his heart, to
support and strengthen him in times of trouble, to
make him firm and resolute in the correction of the
wrong and the vindication of the right, to guard him
in the hour of temptation, and to refine and purify
every holy enjoyment. The teacher, in view of the
responsibleness of his position and the qualifications
needed, may despond, and say, these requirements are
too great for a station commanding so small remuneration and so little esteem and honor. BuA you are
the one to make the profession honorable, to inspire
people with respect for it and you, and thus merit
better remuneration. It is weakness for you to falter
in this cause and fall back in presence of such weak
foes. He who would win victories in a field like




THE EMfORAL  SENSIBILITIES.  293
Sacrifice, labor, instructior..  Intelligence an element of prosperity.
this, must not shrink from the arduous tasks it
imposes, or be daunted by the apparent difficulties
that he may fancy he sees staring him in the way.
"Then stand ye up,
Shielded, and helmed, and weaponed with the truth,
And drive before you into uttermost shame
Those recroant caitiffs."
The inhabitants of this village have sacrificed
their means, and weary hands have builded this
house, and teachers will be employed to give the best.
of instruction, but vain will be sacrifice, and labor,
and instruction, if the knowledge acquired is not
sanctified by the spirit of truth. It is better that this
noble edifice should at once crumble into ruins, than
that these pupils should be taught the truths of science without a corresponding cultivation of the moral
sensibilities. But we will not despond. A noble
work has been begun. The erection of this house
is an era in the history of this town. It is a mark
of the intelligence and public spirit which prevails.
The first means of prosperity to auy community is
an educated and enlightened people. That nation,
or city, or hamlet has been prospered most that has
possessed the most intelligence. The erection of this
house will give a new impetus to the desire for obtaining it.  You now have in your midst a building
suitable for a school of a high grade. You can now




294      THE  EDUCATION, ETC.
Conclusion.
command the means for the most liberal culture.
May children and parents and teachers and schoolofficers be faithful to their trusts, and by their united
efforts make this the place where the rising generation may come up as to a fountain of living waters,
and take copious draughts of the pure limpid stream.
And when the people of other towns shall boast of
their public halls, and magnificent blocks, you may
point with pride and satisfaction to this place, and
say, the best public building of our village is devoted to the education of our children.




LECTURE IX.
EDUCATION AND DEMOCRLACY THE TRUE BASIS OY
LIBERTY.
DELIVERED AT TOWNVILLE, JULY 4TH, 1857.
ELLOW-CITIZENS:-It is a mark of enlightened policy that we have a national holiday,
and I know no time in the year more appropriate for;he purpose than the fourth of July. The dreary
winter- has given way to the jocund spring. The
husbandman has drained the damp earth of the
liquid frosts. The weary ox, bearing meekly the
yoke, has mellowed up the cold heavy acres. The
seeds have been scattered, and the vines planted in
deep trenches. The pruning knife and the implements of labor have been applied with tireless hand.
And now, as the dusty garb of husbandry is to give
place to the clean habiliments of summer, and the
grain and fruits are beginning to mature for the
sickle, what time can be more appropriate for a day
of national recreation than this point of transition
between seed time and harvest.
The time is appropriate. But were this all, it




296       TR        UE  BASIS
Happy memories.           This day brings joy to every class.
might become dull and meaningless. There would
be no living motive for its observance. It would
become a day of debauchery for the immoral, and,
consequently dreaded and hated by the intelligent
and virtuous. But it comes to us with happy memories and endearing associations, because it marks the
day of the nation's birth. The youth, the man of
affairs and hoary age annually look forward to this
day with buoyant and exhilarated feelings. Those
who are bending beneath the weight of years are
carried back to the time
"When their hearts were stout and brave."
The celebrations of other days are brought back
vividly to mind, and they are again aroused by that
soul-stirring eloquence hurled from the lips of orators
and poets now mute in death. The man who is in
the prime of life, whose heart is eaten with care, and
whose head begins to blossom, is glad to turn aside
from the toilsome and dusty walks of life and breathe
the inspiring breath of patriotism, review the origin
and workings of civil liberty, tremble for its perils,
weep for its persecutions and rejoice over its'triumphs. And the child leaps for joy, he knows not
why, for his heart is lit up with hope and anticipation,
and his affections have not yet been chilled by the
disappointments with which life's journey is thronged,




OF LIBERTY.                 297
Young America's celebration.    Words of the patriot.
The grave and the gay, the matron and the maid,
all reckon its approach in eager anticipation, and on
the morning of this day a nation wakes like the child
to the enjoyment of a new toy. Cannon herald its
approach, and bells ring out their merriest peals.
Music lends her spirit-stirring tones. The blast of
the trumpet, and the mellow strains from the bugle
and the horn of the well-regulated band which leads
on the gay procession, the chorus chanted by hundreds of living voices, down to the tin whistle and
jews-harp of the boy who is obliged to stay at home,
and who gets up a celebration on his own account,
decorated with, wooden sword and a paper hat surmounted with cockade and feather, and who delivers
his own oration by crawling up into a tree or the
back end of a hay cart-all unite to swell the fountains of enthusiasm. The old patriot uttered truth
when he looked forth with prophetic eye and said,
"We shall make this a glorious and immortal day.
When we are in our graves our children will honor
it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with
festivity, with bonfires and illuminations. On its
annual return they will shed tears-copious, gushing
tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony
and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude and joy."
The celebration of this day is not to excite the
feelings of hatred and exultation over those who
13*




298              TRUE  BASIS
The goodly inheritance.             Spirited Philippics.
formerly believed that they could with propriety
pursue a line of policy which was degrading to us;
but of joy and gratitude that the fruits of its labors
have proved so glorious, that the era which this
day has heralded in, has been so fortunate and happy
to our youthful nation, that the fondest hopes and
anticipations of those who took part in its deliberations have been more than realized, that a combination of such fortunate circumstances has centered in
this, the latest: experiment in civilization, and that
we can this day rejoice together in the goodly inheritance- bequeathed to us by the fathers of the republic. Indeed, we scarcely remember that England
ever attempted to force us to subjection at the point
of the bayonet, and hardly realize but that, in the
intimacy of her relations with us, she has her fourth
of July, and celebrates with us the triumphs of liberty.  That feeling of animosity which originally
existed between the generations which were parties
to the contest, and that was kept alive and annually
fed by spirited Philippics on our boasted greatness
and the defeat of the British arms, was buried in
the graves of the actors in the scene.
As the birthday of our nation, we celebrate it. On
its annual return, our thoughts are naturally directed
to the history of civil liberty, to its progress among
the nations, and the struggles it has met.  We are




OF LIBERTY.                  299
Uses of the day.                       Foreigners.
reminded that we have a country whose welfare and
safety should be near our hearts. On this day the
rising generation may learn something of the history
of the past. They may imbibe the spirit of that
incorruptible virtue which animated the bosoms of
our fathers, may understand the dangers they encountered, the hardships with which they struggled,
the sufferings they meekly endured in establishing a
form of government which has secured the blessings
of liberty and prosperity through the successive generations, and, as we may fondly hope, to the end of
time. That portion of our fellow-citizens who come
among us from foreign countries, and who have
received their earliest impressions of civil rights
from experience under government exercised by
arbitrary power and a system of police, may learn
the basis upon which our government is established
and the essence and true spirit of our national origin
by listening to that Declaration of Independence
which has just been read, and which is so dear to us
all. The foreigner who comes here ignorant of our
laws and customs may, from the song that is sung
and the words that are spoken, catch a truer notion, a more genuine inspiration of American liberty
and American law than from the reading- of all the
)v lumes of her legal codes.
But the question which most concerns us, and




300             TRUE  BASIS
Need of watchfulness.     Enemies of popular government.
which should on this day be the object of inquiry, is
how we may preserve the institutions which have
been bequeathed to us. If the government under
which we live is a good one, and has made us prosperous and happy beyond that of any other nation
whose history has been recorded, we ought to labor
to preserve it in its purity. If the liberty we enjoy
is precious to us, and we are privileged to move and
act in its sunshine and genial warmth, we should
guard it as a precious treasure, a priceless gem.
There is need of watchfulness. The casket that contains the jewel is always in danger of being rifled.
Secure in the enjoyment of our boasted favors, and
flattered by the prosperity which they secure to us,
we may, in some unguarded moment, be deprived of
them; our national temple may be rifled, and we be
despoiled of our dearest inheritance. The enemies of
popular government will ever be ready to lend a
helping hand to compass its ruin. Heartless villains
in our midst would sell its liberties for the gratification of their own ambition and reckless lust for
power. To study the means for preventing so lamentable a result, should be the care of every good
citizen, and shall form the topic of the remainder of
this discourse.
To preserve a system intact we should first understand the principles upon which it is based. What




OF  LIBERTY.                  301
Basis of civil liberty.  Nations of antiquity,  Plato.  Tully.
is the basis of civil liberty?  The answer to this
question will point out the interests which we are
to foster and protect in order to preserve it in health
and vigor.
EDUCATION unrestricted is the first element of
national liberty. The history of every civilized nation has shown that the rights of the citizen, his
property, his person, are insecure in the midst of an
ignorant and brutish populace. The nations of antiquity invariably built strong walls of defense around
their great cities, in which the intelligent and educated could assemble with their treasures, where they
could outnumber and manage the servile class in
their midst, whose labor they needed, and, from its
ramparts, could govern and tyrannize over the ignorant and barbarous who dwelt beyond its limits.
During the best period of the most polished nations
of antiquity the great body of the people were never
enlightened. The cities in which letters triumphed
and art most signally excelled, in which Plato discoursed upon the principles of his philosophy, and
where Tully plead, were surrounded by an uneducated populace.  Civil liberty was never enjoyed.in
any of the boasted republics of antiquity by any except the inhabitants of the cities; and even the rights
and privileges of these were only possessed so long
as protected by the strong arm of a great central




302              TRUE  BASIS
Republicanism in France.  Number who can not read and write.
power. Their governments were never secure, because not founded on the true basis of that liberty
which they professed.
Attempts have often been made to establish liberty
for a people uneducated, and the efforts have always
failed.  The wis.e and virtuous, with clear vision,
who have distinctly seen that liberty was best for a
nation, and have realized in fancy the blessings which
ought to flow from it, have labored and sacrificed to
give it to the masses; but the ignorant and besotted
have only trodden it under their feet and turned to
rend their benefactors.  Republican principles have
again and again been established in France, but they
have never lasted a score of years. The efforts of
her patriots have been unreservedly given to the
cause, and it has been sealed with the blood of her
best citizens; but even at this price it has not been
secured. And why is it? Why may not one of the
most polished and gallant nations of the earth enjoy
liberty? Why may not the nation which reckons
among its sons the first scholars of the age, in every
walk of learning, enjoy this inestimable gift? Figures
will tell. The report of the chief of the statistical
bureau shows that twelve millions  (12,000,000) of
her population can neither read nor write. When
we read these figures we no longer wonder why this
unhappy country has so often failed in establishing a




OF  LIB-ERTY.                         303
Requisites of freedom.              Remarlks of M. Montalembert.
republican government, nor why it is so often rent by
turbulent and treacherous factions.  Until France*
shall learn to educate her masses she may never reasonably hope for the full enjoyment of civil liberty.
A people to be free must have intelligence. The
walls with which ancient nations surrounded their
cities would not have been needed if the common
people had been educated. If the money which is
* An eloquent writer in a late French journal says, "Twelve mil-.
lions of our fellow-citizens, entitled to vote and to decide the common
destiny, are still ignorant of the first rudiments of reading and wiiting." No wonder that he follows this astounding statement with the
inquiry, "How can France be free so long as you have to drag this
dead weight, to apprehend the explosion of these embittered and discontented classes?" Never, of course. A free State including "' twelve
millions" of citizens who can't read or write I The thing is impossible.
Freedom. requires thought, knowledge, scrutiny into the claims and
measures of magistrates and law makers. The man who is " ignorant
of the first rudiments of reading and writing" is destitute of the first
elements and incapable of the first duties of freemen..   M.
Montalembert says, that, though hoe is not an old man he has lived to
see ten revolutions in his native country. No wonder: he may live
to see ten more, if he reaches a good old age, with " twelve millions
of voters in France who can neither read nor write."
Yet we may shed a tear over the unhappy condition of one of the
bravest, most generous and highly gifted of races. It is not their
fault that they can not read or write. No man learns quicker or is
more anxious to learn than a Frenchman. Ages of despotism have
made them incapable of freedom. It is to no purpose that the same
journalist affirms, " Our superior culture, our special schools, are the
admiration of Europe." It is not superior schools nor special culture
that can make a free poople. —-ew York Ledger, 1859.




304             TRUE  BASIS
Education an element of public safety.   Remark of President Wayland.
expended in building lofty walls of defense, and
maintaining a large standing army; with scarcely a
less body of police for enforcing laws upon an unwilling people, were used in supporting a system of
common school instruction in which every child of
the State could be educated,
" Thick wall or moated gate"
would be a useless appendage, and battalions of soldiers, with a detective at every corner and by-way,
would be a needless exhaustion of its life.
The man who can neither read nor write is not a
fit person to exercise the elective franchise. Some
of the States of our confederacy have enacted that
he who can not read or write shall not vote at an
election.  "A man," says President Wayland, " who
can not read, is a being not contemplated by the
genius of our Constitution. When the right of suffrage is extended to all, he is certainly a dangerous
member of the community, who has not qualified
himself to exercise it." Knowledge is the first means
of safety and security to a nation. A body of uneducated citizens, each with as loud a voice at the
ballot box as he who is educated, are fit tools for
the artful and designing.  It has always been the
province of knowledge to dictate to ignorance, and
so long as there are those who will take advantage



OF LIBERTY.                    805
Knowledge.   Vital questions.    Declaration of Independence.
of the latter whenever the opportunity presents, there
can be no safety for civil rights till the people, the
f67tzo, are able to understand opinions and the tendencies of measures which they are urged to support,
and can judge for themselves of their truth or falsity.
The first element of security to civil liberty is education. If then we would erect a bulwark which shall
be a substantial means of safety, if we would guard
against the assaults of open foes, and the more dangerous attacks of the false-hearted and intriguing, we
should labor for the efficiency of our common schools.
That -form of government which is most favorable
to the success of civil liberty is that in which the
decisions upon its great vital questions are kept
nearest to the voice of the people, so that abuses
may be speedily corrected when felt. This form is
a DEMOCRACY. The fundamental principles of this
are embraced in our Declaration of Independence.
Its simple statements are founded in truth —truth
which has been developed by the struggles of civilization during many ages. It is the natural expression of the rights and relations of humanity, drawn
from the experience of every nation that has played
any important part upon the earth. No man who is
thoroughly imbued with the principles of Christianity can deny its truthfulness or justly resist its binding force.




306              TRUE BASIS
Prerogative and power.         The republics of Greece.
There has always existed a struggle between prerogative and power, between the class governed and
that exercising dominion. This struggle originated
either from the ignorance of the people in not being
content to submit to wholesome restraint, or from
an attempt on the part of those who hold the power
to assume to themselves arbitrary authority. An
equality in rights and privileges of every member
must exist, or the class deprived will contend with
those who withhold from them what they can justly
claim. Hence, whenever in any nation there is a
class under the authority of law which is deprived
of its political rights and can not have a voice in the
government, then the institutions of that nation are
not stable. Submission to power without a voice in
managing it, among a civilized people, will never be
endured, and, sooner or later, the contest will come.
We have already referred to the States of antiquity. Many of these possessed forms of government applicable to the noble families of a single city,
commendable for the extent of political freedom
which they insured. The democratic republics of
Greece have long been celebrated as models. The
philosopher has dwelt upon the excellence of those
systems till, in his heated imagination, he has formed
his conception of the model republic. The historian
has portrayed in his brightest colors their splendid




OF LIBERTY.                  307
The model republic.
triumphs in cabinet and field. He has presented to
the dazzled eye the tramp of armies clad in buckler
and helmet and vizored in steel. He has pictured
the brazen-beaked galleys and fleets covering the
ocean and meeting hostile fleets-the triumphs of a
handful of republican forces over myriads of barbarian soldiery. He has preserved with care the
speeches of their orators, powerful and persuasive
like the words of Jove, and the policy of her statesmen planned from the profoundest views of political
philosophy, and fruitful of wonders. The poet has
sung in his loftiest strains of their triumphs in arms,
in athletic sports, in letters, in art.
But while we gaze delighted at this picture of
renown secured under the protection of democratic
forms of government, we are filled with far different
feelings as we look beneath this semblance of liberty
and see that while the inhabitants of a single city,
who are enrolled as citizens, enjoy the.privileges of
freemen, and have an equal voice in making the
laws, the great majority of the people,'who cultivate the earth, who bear the heavy armor in war,
and help fight the stern battles, are in a condition
of abject slavery and vassalage; who live trampled in the dust, forsaken and despised, and die
unwept, unhonored and unsung. Sparta may boast
in pompous terms of the freedom of her city, of her




308             TRUE  BASIS
Boast of Sparta.   A nearer view.     The helots.
heraldry in arms, of the vastness of her power, and
her glory in literature and art. But the tears, and
groans and blood of her serfs are unnumbered and
forgotten.
When we are admitted to a nearer view of this
boasted free republic, and see the real condition of
that portion of her State on which she must of necessity depend for her daily bread, we must conclude,
according to the proposition which we have already
advanced, that her institutions are not stable, and
can not long endure. From the facts in the organization of her society we may truly figure her concluding scenes. Those who were enrolled as citizens,
and who alone had power in the government, were
soldiers and gentlemen. They bought and sold,
heard the news, discussed politics, made laws in the
assembly, managed the affairs of state, and lived at
their ease, while the helots performed the drudgery.
The clear-sighted of the Spartan statesmen plainly
perceived that so long as these relations subsisted
between the two classes the ruling party would
never be secure. They knew that idleness and luxury! would waste the energies of the one, while fresh
struggles and hardships would fill the other with
new vigor. Knowing that danger was lurking in
the future, and anxious to perpetuate institutions
under which the helots had to do the work while




OF  LIBERTY.                  309
The Cryptia.               Two thousand helots murdered.
they enjoyed leisure and the fruits of this labor, they
placed the helots under the surveillance of the most
vigilant police, and atrocious violence was used to
reduce their strength and break their spirit.  In
addition to this, a law was enacted called the Cryptia, according to the provisions of which* " a commission was given every year to a select number
of young Spartans to range the country secretly,
armed with daggers, for the purpose of assassinating
those helots, wherever they might be found, who, by
eminent qualities of body or mind, had excited the
fear or jealousy of the government.  *  *  *  On
one occasion, when the weakness of Sparta gave reason to dread an insurrection of the helots, all those
whose past services seemed to entitle them to claim
their emancipation were publicly invited to come
forward and receive their reward.  The bravest and
most deserving presented themselves, and two thousand were selected as the worthiest. They joyfully
crowned themselves, and went around the temples to
offer their thanks to the gods; they were then secretly dispatched, so that the historian could not
learn the exact manner in which the horrible crime
was committed."
No government can  long be upheld  by such
* Schmitz's History of Greeoe, pages 95, 96.




310              TRUE  BASIS
No class stationary.
revolting means as these, and it is a mockery to
call such a State a free republic. We can as surely
predict its downfall from its early history as the rising of the sun. A  halo of glory may surround its
rise and progress, and its meridian splendor msa
dazzle with its brightness far away in the mitdst of
those barbarous ages, but the damp shades of night
must ere long envelop it, and we hear
~ -    "its tuneful echoes languish
Mute but to the voice of anguish."
No class of people in an enlightened nation can
long remain stationary. If there is an order which
is rich and powerful, and which has exalted itself in
influence above the rank which they leave beneath
them, and hold the government in their hands,
they may perhaps be successful for a few generationls- to rule and domineer.  But there will be
members of that class who will become degraded by
folly and crime, and will deserve to fall beneath
their companions. No despotic system can keep
them in their place. No law or force of family renown can exalt a man and make him respected or
hold a rank which his ancestors held before him.
He who has pursued a deliberate course of evil, has
brought dishonor on himself and forfeited the confidence of his fellow-men, deserves no longer their




OF LIBE'RTY.                 811
Two classes.
friendship. On the other hand, however much a class
may be ground down and oppressed, or however
menial its labor, it will not be long before the spark
of true manhood which has been implanted in the
bosom of us all will show itself. There will be a
desire to rise higher and know more, to imitate deeds
of heroism, to labor meekly in a true philanthropy,
and work out a higher destiny., If government has
drawn arbitrarily the lines between them, and will
allow none of the former to fall to their true level,
and none of the latter to rise, then that government
is not firm, and will soon become the subject of contention, and will eventually be overwhelmed amidst
the ruins of the temple in which it seeks to enshrine
itself.
There must always be two classes among every
people. There are those who, by weakness of temper or inactivity of body will be imbecile to think
or act; and there will be those who, with imperious
disposition and constitutional strength, will push on
to eminence, whether in the field, the cabinet, in
trade, in philanthropy, or in letters. But because
the father was weak it is no sign that the son will
be so, and the son of the wise may be a simpleton.
Hence the sons may not be fit to assume the places
and join the ranks which their fathers filled. If in
society there is not a free passage between the two




31~2            TRUE  BASIS
Business mlen of New York.       A nation truly free.
extremes, the progress of civilization is cramped, and
the safety of the government is endangered. For
the man who is held in a position above his talents
or morals, because he has gentle blood in his veins,
becomes an object of disgust, and impairs our confidence in the law which keeps him there. And he
who is prevented from rising to that position for
which he is eminently fitted, and which he would fill
with honor and ability, nurtures a hatred of the oppression that keeps him down, which, like a smouldering fire, is fed by that which is heaped up to
extinguish it. A large proportion of the active meritorious business men of the city of New York were
once poor boys, the sons of farmers and mechanics
scattered over New England and the adjoining States,
who annually visit the old homestead in the country.
While a majority of the sons of those who were most
successful in business in a former generation, are the
bloated inmates of brothel and groggery, or figure
as dandies on Broadway, and mankind are none the
wiser or better for their living.
It is only when there is a free pass from one
extreme of society to the other, with no restraints
except virtue and her eloquent persuadings that a
nation can be said to be truly free-when merit is
crowned with its deserts. It is then that the mechanic
arts best flourish. Then nature is most encouraged




OF LIBERTY.                  313
The Roman republic.            Patrician and Plebeian.
to perfect her work. Then literature accomplishes
its greatest results, and rises to its highest perfection,
because all have the assurance of a fair opportunity.
The contentions which have been 3onstantly going
on between prerogative and power, and which have
occupied almost exclusively the pen of the historian
in every nation of any note, have originated in a
departure from the principle just enunciated. The
Roman republic was founded upon the principle
that the governing was a distinct order from the governed, that an aristocracy and menials were the foundation of power. But that haughty spirit which is
the characteristic of human nature everywhere when
placed in a position to domineer, and which was so
marked a characteristic of the old Roman, soon began
to manifest itself. The relations which originally
subsisted between the Patricians and the Plebeians
were such that the two classes were mutually dependent upon each other, and were of consequence
naturally drawn together. But at the basis of this
organization there was established this barrier which
effectually prevented the worthy Plebeian from rising
to the rank of a Patrician, and that retained among
the Patricians, all whether good or bad.
The opportunity of being unjust begot recklessness in power. The Plebeian became the object of
tyranny and insupportable bondage. He was dragged
14




314             TRU-E  BASIS
Incident of the old Plebeian.
to the field and compelled to fight the battles of the
nation. When he returned to his home and found
it pillaged or burned, and his stock driven away, and
to replace it was forced to borrow money from the
Patricians at so exorbitant a rate of interest that he
could never pay it, he was then sold, thrown into
durance vile, and compelled to submit to stripes and
torture. Such is the tendency of power unrestrained.
It runs into the wildest excesses when not amenable
to any higher authority. But there was a point beyond which it could not advance.
An old man who had been despoiled of his property and had fallen into the power of his debtors,
appeared among his associates covered with blood
and wounds which were still fresh, and told his sad
story. This was a signal for universal rising.  The
Plebeians stepped forward in their might, seceded
from the city, and demanded a restitution of their
rights which they could claim by virtue of their manhood. Their power was too great to be resisted, and
their wills too stubborn to be tamed. New political
rights were granted to them, their debts were abolished, tribunes,who should defend and represent them,
were allowed, and that political standing was established which enabled them to cope successfully with
the Patricians, and to maintain those celebrated strug



OF  LIBERTY.                 315
Struggles in England.    Algernon Sydney.    Remark of Smyth.
gles which lend to Roman history and to Roman character their peculiar charms.
We have witnessed the same struggles from time
to time in England. Encroachments upon the rights
of the people have aroused the indignation of the
masses. Sanguinary contests have ensued, and although at times the friends of constitutional liberty
have seemed to be stricken down, yet it has finally
appeared that the cause of humanity has steadily improved; that in every contention its course has been
onward. The happy fruits of a constitutional monarchy, one of the most fortunate forms of government, which the English people now enjoy, has been
secured at a costly sacrifice. The lovers of liberty
have poured out their life's blood like water in its
defense. The world does not recognize its benefactors till it has crucified them. Algernon Sydney, on
the night before his execution, said that for himself
he did not care a chip; but the law which condemned him to the block would condemn every one
of his associates. "He marched," says Smyth, "to
the scaffold as to a victory, displaying at his execution as at his trial, all the bold and sublime traits of
the republican character; the untroubled pulse, the
unabated resolve, the unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame; the memory that still lingered
wMith delight on the good old cause, as he termed it,




316              TRUE  BASIS
Republican character.      No blessing without tribulation.
for which he was to shed his blood; the imagination
that even in death, disdainful alike, of the government, its judges, its indictments, and its executioners
soared away to some loftier code of justice and of
right, and hung enamored on its own more splendid
visions of equality and freedom."
The struggles of the champions of liberty during
eighteen centuries could not secure to our fathers the
inestimable boon without a long and fearful contest.
The colonists brought with them to these shores the
experience of all the past. The infant nation was
far removed from the jealousy and intrigues of the
old continental powers. But the spirit of arbitrary
rule followed them even here, in the wilderness, and
placed its yoke upon their necks. The freedom which
they sought and for which they had periled the dan
gers of the ocean, had endured privation, and would
meet even death itself, was crushed to earth.
It seems that Providence has so ordered that no
signal blessing shall be enjoyed without passing
through tribulation to attain it. Power commenced
his encroachments, and prerogative must again to
tbhe onset. It was fortunate in our Revolution that
men were found equal to the emergency, determined to embark in the enterprise and pursue it to
the last. With firm hearts, and unwavering purpose, in the spirit of unexampled patriotism, they




OF LIBERTY.                317
Ethan Allen.                      Samuel Adams.
stood around each other and pledged "their lives,
their fortunes and their sacred honor." In deed and
in word they stood faithfully together, and mocked
alike at promises or threats. The fortitude of those
has been rarely equaled, who, amidst the greatest
indignities and bodily sufferings, spurned with contempt the offers of reconciliation. Colonel Ethan
Allen was taken prisoner and carried in irons to
England. The emissaries of the king offered him a
township in the new world when the war should be
closed if he would lend his aid to the royal cause.
The answer of the bold colonel was characteristic:
"Gentlemen, your proposition reminds me of the
devil's when he took'jesus up into an exceeding
high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of
the earth, and promised that they should be his if he
would fall down and worship him, when the poor
devil had not a foot of land on earth."  When an
unlimited'price was offered Samuel Adams by an
agent of the king, he replied, in a determined manner, "~I have long since made my peace with the
King of kings. No consideration would induce me
to abandon the righteous cause of my country. Tell
Governor Gage it is the advice of Samuel Adams to
him, to insult no longer the feelings of an exasperated
people." It was such men as these, that filled the




318                  TRUE BASIS
Conception of a perfect State.
vision of Alcxus when he fashioned in poetic fancy
the ideal of a perfect State:
" What constitutes a State?
Not high-raised battlements or labored mounds,
Thick walls or moated gate;
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride.
Not starred and spangled courts,
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No!I Men-high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued,
In forest, brake or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude.
Men who their duties know,
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain;
Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain.
These constitute a State;
And sovereign law, that State's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate
Sits empress, crowning good-repressing ill."
To education and democracy must be ascribed all
the triumphs of civil liberty, and to the want of
these must we ascribe its failures.  Wherever the
people are enlightened and educated, there a democratic form of government is possible, and the fullest
enjoyment of rights is secured. It is the duty of
every lover of his country to labor assiduously for
the permanence of these two principles, for' they are
the basis of liberty.  Where liberty is, there is pros



OF  LIB E ITY.                 319
Gifts of civil and religious liberty.
perity and life.  Civil and religious liberty are the
chief of our blessings. For these have martyrs laid
down their lives upon the scaffold and at the stake,
and myriads of men fought to establish or defend
them. Take away these, and we are degraded to
the rank of slaves, of brutes, and life becomes not
worth the living. Give these, and every faculty is
exalted, the work of our hands is blessed, the gifts
of nature smile upon us, and brighter hopes beam
upon us from- the future.








METHOD
OF
TEACHERS' INSTITUTES,
AND THE
THIEORY  OF EDUCATION,
BY
SAMUEL P. BATES, A.M.,
DEPUTY SUPERINTENDENT OF COMMON SCHOOLS OF PENNSYLVANIA, AND
AUTHOR OF "INSTITUTE LECTURES.'"
g too am a rraceiu
A. S. BARNES & COMPANY,
NEW YORK AND CHICAGO.




Eitered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862,
BY A. S. BARNES a BURR,
IA the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for tX
Southern District of New York.




PREFATORY NOTE TO THE SECOND'EDITION.
THE following brief Treatise on Institutes, intended as
an introduction to the Lectures, was prepared nearly a year
ago; but, on account of the troubled times, has been withheld from publication till the present. The author takes
this occasion to acknowledge his obligations to numerous
educators throughout the country, who favored him with
valuable suggestions, and to return them his sincere thanks.
It is hoped that the work he now presents will meet their
approbation.
SaHooL DEPaaTJrNT, Harrisburg, Dec. 6, 1861.








PREFACE.
TuaE numerous inquiries which the author has received
since the publication of his " INSTITUTE LECTURES," respecting the best method of conducting an Institute, suggested
the idea that a detailed account of the object, organization,
plan of instruction, and the true theory of education upon
which that instruction should be based, would do good.
Availing himself of all the information on the subject at
command, and guided by the light of his own somewhat
extended. experience, he has wrought the materials into a
form that will, as he trusts, be found a tolerably complete
treatise.
The Institute, which is capable of being made the
instrument to impart the highest order of professional
training, was in many cases, for want of proper organization and management, degenerating from that high
vantage-ground. Its novelty having worn away, and the
difficulty of securing the services of competent educators
to conduct it being seriously felt, it was exposed to the
dangers of feeble support and popular distrust.




4                     PREFACE.
To guard it, therefore, against the dangers of failure,
to impress upon teachers the value of professional training
and professional skill, to direct attention to those scientific.
principles upon which education is based, and to make the
organization and instruction of the Institute of that high
grade which shall render it ever attractive and secure of
confidence-this work was undertaken. Bearing directly
upon the vital questions of Education, it is presented for
the candid consideration of the members of the profession.
The author takes this occasion to acknowledge his
obligation to numerous educators throughout the country,
who favored him with valuable suggestions, and to return
them his sincere thanks. It is hoped the work he now
presents will meet their approbation.
SCHOOL DEPARTNT, Harrisburg, Jan. 6, 1862.




CONTENTS.
VALUE OF INSTITUTE INSTRUCTION....................
OBJEOT OF AN INSTITUTE..........1.............. 11
ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE......................22
TOWNSHIP OR DISTRICT INSTITUTES.....................     35
METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES............. 38
FORM OF A CONSTITUTION........................... 50
SUBJECTS FOR DISOUSSION AT AN INSTITUTE....... 5...3
THE THEORY OF INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION..............       56








VALUE OF INSTITUTE INSTRUCTION.
"TEACHERS' INSTITUTES" have inaugurated a new
era in the science of teaching.  The impetus whiclh
they have given to inquiry and earnest thought is
very generally felt in the sphere of public instruction. They occupy a place which can not be supplied by ally other agency; and though they do not
furnish the solid nutriment, yet they supply the
teacher the vital air which is equally indispensable
to him.  Wherever they have been most regularly
and systematically supported, there have the abundant fruits demonstrated their necessity.
Previous to their establishment, the methods of
instruction were in many respects arbitrary and unphilosophic, and were very much allied to those
which-prevailed in the dark ages.* A reason fit to
* The scholars of Abelard, as he himself tells us in his Introduction to Theology, requested him to give them "some philosophical
arguments such as were fit to satisfy their minds; begged that he
would instruct them, not merely to repeat what he taught them,
but to understand it; for no one can believe what he can not comrnp %hend, and, it is absurd to set out to preach to others concerning




8        VALUE OF INSTITUTE INSTRUCTION.
satisfy a rational mind was rarely required. 1pse
dixit was an ample explanation for that which was
intricate. The Teachers' Institute has provoked inquiry.  It has taken  methods of instruction  and
examined them by the light of philosophy, and, rejecting the worthless, has shown the practical value
of the good. It has discovered new methods of proof
and illustration, and entirely revolutionized the practice of primary teaching.
The plan of instruction adopted in the Institute is
suited to the wants of every grade of schools. The
superiority of the training which it has inaugurated
is beginning to be realized, and the professors in our
colleges must adopt the methods and the spirit which
it imparts, or the defects of their systems of instruction will detract materially from their usefulness and
their prestige; for already a comparison is beginning
to be instituted in the public mind, between the
value of Normal and Collegiate culture.
The professor who sits at his desk and hears class.
things which neither those who teach nor those who learn can understand."-Guizot's History of Civilization, vol. i., p. 147.
When Pestalozzi first propounded his principles, the education of
the poorer classes, everywhere, was essentially defective. In methoa
it was purely mechanical, without any basis of sound science. The
head was but little improved, and the heart remained wholly untouched. Among the higher classes, the only aim was the acquisition of knowledge. The faculties of simple apprehension and verbal
memory, especially the latter, were called into action. Other
faculties were neglected.-A-.. M,. Jones, of the School of the BHon
and Cblona  Socity, London.




VALUE OF INSTITUTE INSTRUCTION.         9
es, keeping tally the while with his pencil, and preserves the same indifference toward the dunce and
the brilliant scholar, is contrasted with him who
studies the mental peculiarities of his pupils, who
classifies them according to the power of thought
which they have attained, and who puts his instruction in such a light that it can not fail to elicit reflection, and induce a healthy and vigorous development. The difference between the two systems is
very marked; it is that between mechanically hearing pupils recite the words of a text-book, and that
of intelligently instructing them in correct processes
of thought. The advantage to the pupil of normal
instruction over the stereotyped methods pursued in
many of our colleges is worthy of note. Even if a
person is never intending to teach, but simply desires
to obtain a thorough education, he can not fail to
perceive the superiority of the former. He learns
every thing from a new stand-point, more elevated
and independent. He not only learns a lesson so as
to be accountable for it in the class-room, but he
must have it so digested and matured as to be able
to teach it to others. This additional culture gives
permanence and definiteness to his conceptions, and
ripens his judgment.
The importance which Institutes have assumed
within a few years past, has rendered it necessary
that the most efficient and well-digested plans for
conducting them should be studied. The objections




10     VALUE OF INSTITUTE INSTRUCTION
which have been urged against them, and the prejudice which exists in some minds, has commonly resulted from mismanagement. The time during which
an Institute usually remains in session is very limited, and in order that the best results be attained and
the time be employed to the best advantage, it is
necessary that the exercises be reduced to strict system. There must be a plan, and the proceedings
mnst be made to conform to it. Before we can know
what plan is best, it is necessary to know what the
ends are that it is to subserve.




OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.          11
OBJECT OF A TEACHERS' INSTITU[E.
TIHERE are two main purposes designed to be accomplished by the Institute. The first consists in
imparting to the teacher a knowledge of the Philosophy of his Profession. The second is the establishment of a common sympathy between teacher and
people. There are several minor results connected
with these which the Institute properly contributes;
but they should ever be held subordinate to these.
A system of instruction will meet with success in
proportion to its conformity to the laws of psychological development. To be fruitful in good results,
it must be founded upon principles which govern
our spiritual natures. If a teacher proceeds upon a
theory contrary to this, he either gives an erroneous
development, or he endeavors to force upon the
minds of his pupils instruction which they do not
appreciate, and which can never be of any practical
value.  To discover the philosophical principles
which underlie every department of instruction, and
to properly apply these to the natural order of mental development, should be the first and leading object of attention.




12          OBJECT OF AN IN-STITUTE.
Teachers are too apt in practice to follow on in the
beaten track, and adopt the plans pursued by those
who taught them. If these plans were erroneous,
the teacher is to be convinced of their falsity, and
that others are preferable, because, when tried by
reason, they are found to be in harmony with the
constitution and growth of the mental faculties.
Teaching is not an imitative art, but a science based
upon immutable principles. If we make it an imitative process, and devote the time of the Institute to
a detail of the plan for teaching each branch, we may
present a plan which one man can imitate but another can not. But if we develop the elements of the
science, we put into the hands of every one the means
for independent action, and each can develop his
methods in accordance with his own subjectivity.
Unfortunately, many of our text-books are written
not by teachers who understand the true theory of
teaching, and are fully imbued with its spirit, but
they are " made" by men who have facilities for publishing and forcing themn into use, and are desirous of
having a full " series."  The teacher, therefore, needs
to be so familiar with the fundamental principles of
the branches he is to teach, that he shall be above
text-books,-that he shall himself be the text-book in
every branch; and where books are at fault, by proper
instruction to set them right. The day is past when
the teacher is to be pinned down to a superstitious
adherence to authority, and go hobbling upon crutches




OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.          13
into such a noble work. The general principles upon
which every branch rests should be thoroughly discussed and understood, so that his views shall be
correct and clear; and he who intends to keep up
with the times and be a reliable practitioner in the
profession, must come up to the Institute, once or
twice a year, at least, to get his opinions adjusted,
as the navigator comes to have his chronometer corrected before departing on his perilous voyage over
restless seas.
The Institute is not the place to give instruction
in the elements of the sciences. These are to be
learned in the schools, where there is opportunity for
thorough drill. It is useless to waste the time of an
Institute in this kind of labor, since, in the limited
period for which it is convened, every moment is
needed for higher purposes. If a person is not
versed in the rudiments, he is not fit to be admitted
as a member, much less a member of the profession.
Whllat could be accomplished for a person in an Institute of a week's continuance in such a branch as
geometry, for instance, if he had not previously famniliarized himself with that science a
Musical conventions, conducted by able composers,
have a similar purpose to that of the Institute. No
one ever proposes to become a member of a convention for the purpose of learning the rudiments of
music, but to acquire power of expression, to be applised of the effect which different styles of execu



14          OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.
tion have upon the sensibilities, and, in short, to learn
the philosophy of the art. A week's drill under a
skillful master will bring out powers which had
never been reached by the ordinary course of instruction, and give the pupil new views of music that will
be of more ivalue to him than all he ever knew before. Yet it is necessary that he should have all his
previous instruction, in order to be prepared to appreciate and be profited by that kind which is now imparted.
In the township or district Institute, class-drills in
forms of solution and methods of explanation are in
place. It is the purpose there to have teachers instructed upon those subjects which are demanding
their immediate attention.  If difficulties are met
with in their daily class-room duties, it is proper to
present them here for solution. The number is not
so large, nor the time so limited, but that instruction
in their class-studies is practicable and proper. But
in the County or State Institute, where instructors
are usually present who are capable of developing
those principles which will enable the teacher to
understand the true relations of his elementary knowledge, it is a waste of time and rare opportunity to
engage in that kind of labor which legitimately belongs to the preparatory schools.
The second purpose of the Institute is to create
and maintain a sympathy, a common bond of interest
between teachers and people. In order that the in



OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.                 15
struction which the teacher imparts in his school may
produce the best results, it is highly important that
he have the confidence of the parents.  A  teacher
who fails to command the respect of the people is
robbed of much of that power for good which he
could otherwise exercise, however skillful and efficient
he may be.
It is, therefore, the sphere of the Institute to demonstrate that the teacher is alive to the interests of
his calling; that he is making sacrifices to be the better
fitted to discharge his duty; that he is worthy of the
confidence of his patrons; that his knowledge is
superior to that possessed by the teachers of a by-gone
age, from which their judgment of teaching capacity was formed; that his ability is such as to challenge their respect; that he is really mastering the
theory of his profession, and by a thorough knowledge of the discoveries which have been made, is
able to practice with skill, in one of the most delicate
and arduous positions in which the members of any
profession are called upon to act.*
* It is a fact which can not be denied, that comparatively few
school-officers really know what sort of an education they are providing; whether it is well or ill adapted to the purpose intended;
whether it is founded upon the unchanging principles of mental
progress, or upon crude theories, half-digested schemes, and superficial views of the philosophy of mind. Few, comparatively, are
aware that there are any well-settled maxims upon which, as an
immutable basis, the whole superstructure of all round culture must
rest.  And hence, men who can "keep the children still," six
hours a day, and hear them " say their lessons," are deemed fit to




16           OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.
It is a hopeful feature in the history of popular
education, that the people generally are accustomed
to attend these gatherings, and are thus enabled to
see and judge for themselves of the spirit which prevails, and of the practical utility-which must result
from them. It is one of the most effectual means of
disarming prejudice, of awakening among parents
an interest in their schools, of enabling them to sympathize with the teacher in the success of his plans;
for they are thus enabled to understand what those
plans are upon which he is depending for success in
instructing their children, and in nourishing their
spiritual natures. There is no interest so dear to a
man as that which pertains to the welfare of his
children. If there is no other way of reaching his
pride, it is sure to be enkindled when he is conscious
that his children display aptness for learning. When
parents are made to realize that the teacher is acting
upon enlightened views, and that he is imparting the
most valuable kind of instruction, they are encouraged, and incited to pursue a liberal policy in the
maintenance of their schools, and their warm-hearted co-operation is secured. The teacher's task is half
accomplished, when the hearts that guide the home
circles of his pupils, are throbbing for his success.
There are some minor purposes to be subserved
be teachers. At the Institute the fallacy of these views is exposed,
and their mischievous results pointed out. —Hlon. Newton Bateman's
Report, for Illinois, 1860.




OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.          17
by the Institute which may properly be men.
tioned.
The teacher is brought into direct intercourse with
his professional brethren, and is enabled to measure
himself intellectually and professionally with others.
Were he to remain isolated, knowing little of any
one beyond his own neighborhood, he would naturally contract narrow and selfish views, and be filled
with his own sufficiency. He has, perhaps, regarded
himself as possessing superior attainments, and his
own methods of teaching as infallible, while they
may at the same time be very unphilosophic and injurious to the mental habits of his pupils. But when
he comes to the Institute, and is brought into contact
with those of equal and of superior ability, he is
enabled to make a more sober estimate of his capacity, and to suspect that there may be
"-  -~  some things in heaven and earth
Not dreamed of in his philosophy."
He is brought into connection and close communion
with earnest-minded, thinking teachers, who are
accustomed to criticise the soundness of every view,
and only satisfied with that which bears the genuine
impress of truth. He catches their spirit, and thus
a new life and new modes of thinking are infused
into the whole mass of teachers.
Nor is this intellectual acquaintance the only advantage of their coming together. They become




18         OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.
acquainted socially. They are enabled to sympathize with each other, and to form intimate and lasting attachments.  Refinement and culture exert
their elevating influence upon the rough and the
uncouth, the different classes of society are brought
nearer to each other, the barriers which separated
them are thrown down, and, while none are degraded
by contact, all are elevated in feelings, in manners,
in sentiments.
Growing out of the relations which we have named
above, is one which the French term esprit de corps,
a professional pride, a feeling which is an element of
success in every calling. The eyes of the teacher
are opened to the real nobility of his work, and he
is relieved from that embarrassment which causes
him to go about withk head bowed down because he
is only an humble schoolmaster. In thus opening to
his view the true position he occupies, he is enabled
to realize the responsibilities that rest upon him, and
is nerved to more earnest exertions in the performance of his whole duty.
The Institute is an excellent school for young
teachers to learn to express their thoughts in public.
It is the fault of many of them that they can not
" think upon their legs," and hence can not be successful in teaching what they know well enough,
because they have not the power of talking it into
their pupils, and making the thought appear to
others as it is felt by themselves. The extempora



OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.           19
neous debates, which call out the opinions of the
members at the close of each lesson, form a good
preparatory exercise for the practical business of
teaching.
The habit, which should be insisted on, of taking.notes of every important fact or opinion that is expressed, and of reserving for future consideration
what can not be duly pondered at the time, is one of
vast importance to the young teacher, and, if persevered in, will in a few years be fruitful of surprising
results. It will serve to establish the principle of
Srever passing upon any thing hastily, and of noting
for future reflection and use, whatever may be met
with in a course of reading or observation that is
worthy of preservation. No lesson can be learned
that will more conduce to accuracy of scholarship,
or more effectually contribute to richness of thought.
Another prominent object subserved by Institutes
is the opportunity they furnish of readily introducing
into the practice of the profession such new improvements as are made in the science and art of teaching.
Were it not for these general gatherings, it would
require a long time for a new method to work its
way into use among the isolated members of a profession so numerous as this. But through the agency
of the Institute, a happy invention in proof, in illustration, or a discovery of a new application of education, quickly spreads from  rank to rank, and
scarcely has it assumed form in the inventor's brain




20          OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.
before it is heralded from Maine to Minnesota, and
is being practiced in the little log school-house upon
the frontier of civilization. In this respect it is a
means of improvement more thoroughly organized
and more practically effective than is possessed by
the members of any other profession.
The whole body of teachers are brought into contact, at the Institute, with distinguished scholars,
and can learn something of their manners and course
of thinking. Teachers thus become imbued with
their spirit, and absorb the cast of scholarship which
they display. There is an opportunity afforded for
not only the teachers, but also the citizens of the vicinity, to hear a course of lectures on literary and
scientific subjects, aosd in addition to the information
which is imparte4 and the enthusiasm which they
inspire, teacherz are enabled to learn something of
the manners and modes of delivery of the Lecturers.
The talents of superior teachers are made public,
and their services are thus brought into requisition
in parts of the country where they are needed, and
where they will accomplish the greatest good. No
teacher need remain buried in neglect and obscurity
whose abilities fit him for a higher sphere. The Institute thus becomes a means of bringing forward
the meritorious, and rewarding them with deserved
promotion.
A familiarity is acquired with the usages of a deliberative assembly, and the rules that should prevail




OBJECT OF AN INSTITUTE.          21
in it. The officers should take a pride in having all
their proceedings in conformity with parliamentary
rules. These rules have been deduced from the experience of deliberative bodies for ages, and of course
embody the most systematic plan for transacting
business.  To have the business of an Institute
promptly and systematically done, is not only instructive to those members who are ignorant of the
usages of such bodies, but it is a great saving of
time, and produces a favorable impression upon those
who witness it.
Having thus set forth in a general manner the
purposes which the Institute is designed to accomplish, we now propose to detail the best methods of
conducting it to secure these results.




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
TIME FOR HOLDING THE INSTITUTE.-The most ap
propriate time for an Institute is that immediately
preceding the opening of the schools for the season,
or in the early part of the school-term. The teachers,
at this time, will display greater anxiety to learn)
and will be enabled immediately to make a practical
use of what they have gained. In cities and villages,
where the schools are kept open during a greater
portion of the year, the time of holding it is immaterial, provided it is convenient for the people, and
will be favorable for a general attendance. Election
and holidays should be avoided. It is the teacher's
week of jubilee in itself, and should not be interfered
with by festivals or public days. in sections where
the traveling is bad, a time should be preferred
when the roads will be settled, and that time in the
month when there are moonlight evenings.
NOTICE OF MEETING. —NOtice should be given of
the time and place of meeting through the newspapers, and, so far as practicable, should include a
schedule of the exercises, and the names of Instructors and Lecturers. It ought to be inserted in the




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.       23
papers as an editorial, where it will attract attention;
and there are few publishers in the country who will
refuse to give it such a position. When notice can
not be efficiently given through the newspapers, it
should be done by hand-bills and circulars. A fill
notice should be secured at all hazards, and every
facility for a full attendance should be extended.
The precise hour in the day at which the Institute
will be organized, and the exercises will commence,
should be distinctly stated, so that the members may
be punctually present, and not, as is too often the
case, be a day or two in getting together. Not a
moment of time or a single remark should be lost.
How  LONG CoNTINUE.-An Institute should not
convene for a less time than one week, when suitable
Instructors can be secured for conducting it; nor is
it advisable to have it continue longer than a week
or ten days. Experience has taught, that an Institute of a week's continuance has met with far better
success than those of either longer or shorter duration. It is hardly worth while for a general assembling of teachers, from all parts of a county, for a
less time than a week; and it is often not convenient
for them to stay longer, and in some instances might
become burdensome for the people to furnish entertain nent longer, especially in places where hotel
accommodations are limited. Besides, the exercises
sometimes become dull and monotonous, when continued; and Instructors may, if the matter of their




24       ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
discourses is properly digested, present it with more
vigor and effect in one, than in two weeks, and may
succeed in creating more enthusiasm, and do greater
good, than if more extended and diffuse. WaThen it
is kept in session two, four, or six weeks, the nature
of the instruction must necessarily be similar to that
adopted in normal classes, and is hence changed to a
normal school, and should be known by that name.
PLACE OF ZMEETING.-Thlis should not always be
where it is sure of the most cordial reception, and
the largest and most enthusiastic audiences. The
Institute should sometimes perform the offices of a
missionary. A section where there is indifference,
will never fail to be aroused and warmed by the presence of a good Institute in its midst. It is not judicious, however, to select such a place, unless there is
some good active teacher or citizen in it who desires
it held there, will labor for it, and will form a connecting link between people and Institute.  Some
enterprising village will often do more than the large
towns and cities. It ought not to be confined to any
one locality. JIts influence should be given to each
section in turn, always selecting that place where the
best prospect of success and the greatest need seem
to be most strongly united. A joint Institute be,
tween two counties, at some convenient point, is attended with many good results. The teachers in the
outskirts of the counties are thus accommodated.
The sympathies of a portion of people are enlisted,




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.         25
who would not otherwise be reached, and the leading
teachers of the two counties, with their Superintendents, can thus render each other mutual assistance.
COMMITTEE OF ARRANGE1MENTS. -When the time
and place of holding the Institute have been fixed,
it is desirable that citizens or school-officers of the
locality chosen, should designate some persons to act
as a committee of arrangements. It is proper for
this committee to secure a place for meeting, and to
extend an invitation to such citizens as are disposed
to entertain teachers coming from a distance. They
should make a list of such families, and the number
each can accommodate, for use at the opening of the
session. It may seem like a burden, at first, for families to furnish such entertainment-; but if the deportment of teachers is judicious, the hearts of such are
always opened, and a feeling of satisfaction and pride
is felt in the end. Aside fiom the aid and encouragement which is thus afforded teachers, the interest
which is thereby excited in the feelings of the people, and the personal responsibility and co-operation
which is engendered, furnishes the strongest motive
for encouraging it. It should not be forgotten, that
one of the objects of the Institute is the formation of
such a bond of sympathy, and this is one of the means
to be employed for establishing it.
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE.-The executive commi'1 Ae
are charged with making provision, some time previous to the meeting, for all the literary exercises.
2




26       ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
The chairman of this committee should be the County
Superintendent, or some person who is well acquainted with the teachers of the county, and who
will make it his business, in conjunction with his associates, to secure the Lecturers,* make arrangements
for their coming and going, fix the time on whichl
each is to speak, and attend to their reception —engage Instructors who shall give daily lessons in each
of the branches to be taught-correspond with teachers to have essays written and ready to be delivered
-and to have vocal and instrumental music prepared.  All these arrangements should be made a
sufficient time previous to the meeting to allow of
all necessary preparations.
ORGANIZATION.-Too much time is firequently squandered in organizing. If the Institute has had a previous existence, and is provided with a constitution,
the only detention from  the regular order is the
choice of officers. But if an original organization is
to be made, it is best to choose a temporary chairman, and appoint a committee on permanent organization, and another on the formation of a constitution. Then let the instructors commence immediate.
ly upon their regular business, and the constitution
and list of permanent officers can be reported and
* The term Lecturer, when used in these pages, is employed to
designate the man who delivers the formal lecture for the evening
session; the term Instructor, to indicate the person who gives the regular daily lessons in one of the school branches; and Teacher, to refer
to the members of the Institute.




ORGANIZATiON OF AN INSTITUTE.         27
adopted as soon as the committees have had time to
complete their labors. Constitutions and regulations
should always be thoroughly discussed in committee,
and so perfected that their adoption need take but
little time. Institutes where the relations of all concerned have been most pleasant and satisfactory,
have been presided over by some prominent citizen
of the place where held.
REGULAR OFFICERS.-The regular officers of an Institute are similar in name to those of other public
bodies; yet the manner of discharging their duties
is in many respects peculiar, and corresponds to the
special objects which they are constituted to subserve. It is different in its objects and in its operations from any other deliberative body, and its management and regulations must consequently be sp'~cial.
PRESIDENT. —The duties of the President in the
maintenance of due decorum, in the decision of points
of order, in putting motions, in allowing or stopping
debate, are similar to those of presiding officers of
other deliberative assemblies. But in managing the
exercises, and guiding the Instructors, he has new
and delicate duties to perform. He should, in the
first place, have placed in his hands an exact programme of exercises, detailing the time which each
is to occupy, and a limitation upon that which is
allowed to each person in debate. When the time
has arrived for an exercise to close, it is his duty to




28      ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
give prompt notice of the fact, and announce and be
ready to enter immediately upon that which is to
fillow.  Miuch of the interest' "and profit depend
ipon the promptness and dispatch with which the
presiding officer brings on and closes the exercises
as marlked down in the programme. If the imembers are disposed to interrupt the Instructor with
questions designed to perplex him, or consume his
allotted time with trivial or irrelevant debate, it is
the duty of the presiding officer to interfere, and request that he have the exclusive management of his
subject, and that all questions for information or
statement of differences of opinion be deferred till
the proper time for debate, which should follow each
lecture or essay. Promptness and decision in the
presiding officer are of the utmost importance to the
success of an Institute, and can not be too highly
prized.
BUSINESS COMMITTEE. — This committee consults
with the lecturers, instructors, and leaders of singing,
and makes out for each session the programme which
is to govern it, stating what subjects are to be attended to, how much time is devoted to each, and
the persons who are to conduct them. The chairman of this committee should be the same as the
chairman of the executive committee, and is very
properly the County Superintendent, when there is
one, and if not, the chairman of the board of examiners, or some leading member of the association.




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.               29
It is also the business of this committee to furnish
blackboards, maps, charts, and apparatus, so far as
they are able, and see that somle person is engaged
to attend to fires and lights, and to sweeping and
dusting  the  room.   The following  form  of programme will answer as an illustration for an Institute composed of teachers of our common districtschools, and as it embraces quite a full range of
topics, need not be essentially varied during the
week. If, however, the body of teachers demand it,
a higher range of topics may be. substituted, so that
any grade of teachers can be suited, even to the professors in colleges.
Programme for ilonday, Jan. 13, 1862.
MORNING.
MINUTES.
Calling roll of members...........................  5
Devotional Exercises, conducted by Rev. Mr. A-.. 15
Reading and correcting minutes of preceding day....  10
Instruction in Arithmetic, by Mr. B —............     20
Discussion on    do........................    20
Instruction in Physical Training.................. 20
RECESS.
Instrumental or Vocal Music....................... 5
Mathematical Geography, by Mr. C —............   20
Discussion on    do........................... 20
Discussion.  Question —Resolved, that punishment
should not be inflicted in presence of the school nor
in school-hours............................... 25
Report of critics................................. 5
M usic...........................................   5




30         ORGANIZATION  OF AN  INSTITUTE.
AFTERNOON.
MINUTES
Singing........................................  5
Primary Instruction and Elocution, by Mr. D.... 20
Discussion on        do................... 20
Exercise in Penmanship, by Mr. E-.............20
Instruction upon Moral Training.............. 20
RECESS.
How to Teach the Elements of Music, by Mr. F-.. 10
Language, by Mr. G —.........................  20
Discussion on      do........................ 20
Sub-lecture on Object Lessons, by Mr. H-........10
Essay, by Miss I............................ 10
Report of critics.........................  5
Music...........................................5
EVENING.
Busic..........................................   b
Select reading, by Miss J..................... 10
Discussion. Question -Should females be excluded
from our colleges?............................. 30
Music...........................................   5
Essay, by AMr. K...........................10
Lecture, by Mr. L............................ 50
Music..........................................  5
The business committee should also prepare and
present, at the opening of the Institute, resolutions
of the following purport:
Resolved, that the  sessions of this Institute  be
from  9 to 12 o'clock in the morning; from  11 to 4i
o'clock in the afternoon; and from  7 to 9 o'clock in
the evening; and that the presiding officer call to
order and adjourn this body, according to the provisions of this resolution.




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.        31
Resolved, that in all discussions no person be
allowed to speak longer than 10 minutes, except by
permission from the Institute; nor to speak a second
time, till all who desire have had an opportunity.
SECRETARIES.-The Secretary's book should present
a faithful daguerreotype of what is done and said.
The substance of the lectures, instructions, debates,
and business should be briefly and succinctly reported, so that from it can be made out a summary
of interesting matter for publication, and a true record
be preserved for future reference.  In order that
the records may be thus fully kept, there should be,
in addition to the regular Secretary, one or two
assistants; so that as the exercises change, each
can take his turn, and while one is reporting, the
others can be correcting their notes and copying them
into the record-book. Much care should be taken to
report faithfully what is said; but no opinion of the
Secretary, respecting the merit or demerit of the performance, should be given.  By having the labor
thus divided, excessive fatigue is avoided, and opportunity for revision and careful copying is given.
Besides, the minutes should be written out imlmediately, while the whole subject is fresh in the memory,
and any unavoidable omissions in the notes can be
easily supplied in the engrossed minutes. The records should be read and revised each morning, so
that if the Secretaries have misapprehended or omitted any thing they may be corrected.




32       ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
TREASURER.-It is the business of the Treasurer to
keep an itemized account with the Institute, in a
book provided for the purpose, of all moneys received
and paid out; to pay from whatever moneys are deposited with him all orders on the Treasurer properly
authenticated; and to settle his accounts with the
Auditor at the expiration of his term of office.  Htis
accounts should be neatly and systematically kept;
and his book should present that business-like ap
pearance which is expected to characterize the work
of a teacher of a common-school, —that institution in
which the majority of our people receive all the education they ever get in preparation for the business
of life.
FINANCIAL COMMRITTEE.-In case the State furnishes
means for the support of County Institutes, there
would be little business for this committee to transact, unless such committee is designated by law to
superintend its expenditure. But if money is needed
for meeting the ordinary expenses, it is the business
of this committee to devise the ways and means for
raising it. In some cases the regulations require a:t
initiation fee, or an annual tax on all its members.
In others, to encourage a larger membership, no fee
or tax is imposed, and all necessary expenses are met
by voluntary contributions of its members, or by an
assessment about equal to the expense. When this
latter policy is pursued, the committee should ascertain, as early in the session as possible, the probable




ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.       33
expense, and have the collection made in time for
the Treasurer to pay all bills before the final adjournment. It is, however, the best policy, as there is
always considerable expense attending the operations
of an Institute, to have an annual tax on all alike,
whether old or new members. The committee should
attend to the collection of this tax, and should issue
certificates which will constitute a receipt for its payment, and will be evidence to school-officers of membership and attendance. A neat phraseology, with
an appropriate device printed upon, card-paper, is a
very convenient form. Each certificate should be
signed by the President, and countersigned by the
Secretary. This certificate will also be convenient
in case railroad companies grant reduction of fare
to members, as a means of identifying them.
AUDITOR.-The Auditor has to examine and decide
upon the accounts of the Financial Committee and
the Treasurer, and make his report to the Institute.
When this report has been accepted and passed, it
should be entered upon the Secretary's book.
COMMITTEE ON REsOLuTIONS.- It is usual for an
Institute to pass, before adjournment, a series of resolutions expressive of its feelings and sentiments.
As these resolutions are usually published, it becomes
a very convenient means of directing public attention to any needed improvements, and of leading the
sentiment of the community in the right direction.
These resolutions should be thoroughly meditated
24




34      ORGANIZATION OF AN INSTITUTE.
and carefully drawn, avoiding all matters calculated
to excite odium, unless needed to correct existing
abuses, or to inaugurate needed reforms. This comInittee should hold a meeting early in the session,
and take the proper steps to have the resolutions perfected and adopted in committee, without being compelled to resort to unusual haste.
COMMITTEE OF RECEPTION.-The members of this
committee should attend to the arrangement and
seating of members of the Institute and spectators,
should give all information desired to new melnbers,
and look after the general interests. It is also the
business of this committee to furnish the Secretary
with lists of the names and residences of the teachers,
and should keep them revised from day to day as new
members arrive.




TOWNSHIP OR DISTRICT INSTITUTES.
ToWNsnIP OR DISTRICT INSTITUTES. - These are
formed by the teachers -of a single township, or t. y a
union of the teachers of two or three contiguous
townships. They are held weekly or semi-weekly,
and are designed for the mutual improvement of the
members in the studies which they are teaching, for
comparing their methods of instruction and government, and for their advancement in general information.
The place of meeting is in some cases permanent,
at some central point; in others it is changed from
week to week, so as to visit all parts of the section
embraced. It is doubtless the better policy to have
a regular place of meeting. The time of meeting is
either in the evening or on Saturday. A plan which
is sometimes adopted, and which, if judiciously conducted, will result in much good, is for all the schools
to be closed on Saturday except tlie one where the
Institute is to meet, and that is kept open during the
forenoon of that day. The teachlers all assemble
there in the morning and witness the operations of
that school for a half day,. and in the afternoon at



86      TOWNSHIP OR DISTRICT INSTITUTES.
tend to the business of the Institute.  By circulating
in this way through the different schools, opportunity
is afforded for observing the practical ability displayed by each teacher, and much valuable information is thereby gained.
For cities and villages a permanent organization
can be made, similar to that adopted in the County
Institutes; but for the rural districts, where the
school-term is short and there is frequent change of
teachers, a temporary organization from one meeting
to another may be adopted, selecting some one of the
citizens to act as chairman. Care should always be
exercised, however, to have the order of exercises
reported before adjournment for the next succeeding
meeting, so that those who are appointed for special
duty may have opportunity to prepare themselves
upon the subjects assigned.  The following order of
exercises will suggest the course to be pursued:
Programme for Friday evening, Jan. 31, 1862.
MINUTES.
1. Calling roll of members, and responding by sentiments.........................    5
2. Singing....................                  5
3. Class-drill, conducted by Mir. A-............. 30
4. Select reading by Miss B-................  10
5. Singing................................... 5
6. Sub-lecture on Map-drawing by Mr. C-....... 10
7. Essay by Miss E...........................10
8. Singing......................................  5
9. Lecture or Discussion.......................... 35
10. Answering questions from the " Query-box"....  20




TOWNSHIP OR DISTRICT INSTITUTES.       37
It is expected that the older scholars of the several
schools and the parents will attend these Institutes.
The exercises will not only afford entertainment and
instruction to spectators, but will demonstrate the
utility of such associations, and show the progress
which is being made in the science of teaching.
Care should be exercised by every member to cultivate a friendly feeling, and to foster the spirit of forbearance and courtesy. He should aim to be prompt
and regular in attendance, and always be prepared
to perform the part assigned him. As it is a purely
voluntary association, it must have the hearty sup
port of all, to be eminently prospered.




gMETHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
CALLING RoLL. —The first business, after coming
together in the morning, should be calling the roll of
the members. This should be done as a means of
securing punctuality; and the Secretary, after finishing it, and checking the names of those present,
should read off the names of absentees, —a practice
that may be imitated to advantage in school. The
regulation of requiring each member at the morning
roll-call to respond by rising and repeating a clause
or verse of Scripture, is advisable. This need not be
made obligatory, as those who do not choose to do
so can simply respond, " present." To have the mind
fixed upon some passage of divine truth, serves to
bring it into a proper frame, preparatory to the devotional exercises; and the rising to repeat it, gives
each one some degree of confidence, engenders a feeling
of personal interest, and makes him realize that he is
truly a member. Every effort shonld be made at
the outset to impress upon the teachers the necessity
of being punctual and regular in attendance. The
exercises should be conducted with as much order
and discipline as in a school, and the idea never be




METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.  39
allowed to gain credence, that an Institute is a sort
of holiday that may be turned to amusement or recreation.
DEVOTIONAL ExERCISES.- These should be conducted by the clergymen of the place, who usually
take sufficient interest in public education to be
present without special invitation. But lest they may
fail to understand the nature of an Institute, or may
not feel that they are personally identified with it,
an invitation should be sent at the opening of the
session to each one to be present. Every cause prospers best when it has the moral force of the representatives of religion on its side. Besides, the interests
of Education and Religion are identical. These exercises should consist of reading a portion of Scripture, singing a hymn or psalm, and prayer. No
undertaking can be successful without the Divine
blessing. It is to be feared that, in our schemes of
education, we have labored to divorce it too much
from religion.  One of the objections urged against
our free-schools is, that they are godless schools; and
if there is any one thing from which we should pray
to be delivered, it is from being a godless nation.
It is fitting, therefore, that thle teachers should be reminded of the claims of religion, and that each session
should be opened by solemn devotions.
INSTRUCTION.-AS indicated by the order of exercises given above, it is intended that each of the
several branches shall be in charge of an Instructor,




40  METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
who shall give a connected series of discourses upon
that branch. - The Instructor should be apprised of
the part he is to perform in time for him to malke
careful preparation, and be able to present welldigested views. In order to discharge his duty profitably, he ought to be able to answer in a clear manner the following questions: For what purpose do
scholars pursue this branch?  Are the-methods of
instruction, which have heretofore been practiced,
such as are calculated to secure the best and the
largest results? If not, what changes can be made to
improve theme  Can I develop and elaborate the
plan which I would adopt in teaching this branch,
so as to secure the results for which the study is pursued, and at the samne time secure the interest and
enthusiasm of my pupils.? Until an Instructor can
answer these questions intelligently, he is not prepared
to stand up before a company of teachers and demand
their attention. The person assigned to a particular
branch ought to continue his instructions in that
branch through the whole Institute, so that lie can
have a fair chance to develop his plan; but there is
no objection to his giving instruction in several
branches, if he is capable of carrying them  along
satisfactorily.
The Instructor should be provided with a black-.oard, and all needed apparatus for illustrating and
presenting his ideas in the neatest and clearest manner; for his teaching is intended as a kind of pattern




METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCTSES.  41
for the members to follow. Ie should aim to avoid
all display in manner and language, and simply
strive to do the most possible to inspire his hearers
with his idea, to imbue them with his spirit, and to
enable them, when they go to their school-rooms, to
achieve success. He should not be interrupted during
the time which has been allowed him, but when that
time has expired he should promptly close; for if he
has not completed the treatment of the topic under
consideration, he can resume at the point where he
leaves it in his next lesson. Then the matter thus
treated should be thrown open for a general discussion. It may be that some one has a better plan
than the Instructor, or that during his remarks a
question has been suggested upon which information is desired. This is the proper time for answering questions, solving doubts, and offering suggestions.
LECTURERs.-It is usually expected, that at the
evening session, which the citizens commonly attend, a lecture will be delivered, in which the speaker
will, in a measure, ignore the specialties of the teacher,
and will treat such a subject, and in such a manner,
as will be interesting and attractive to all who may
hear. Such a topic should, however, be considered as
will contribute to the progress of popular education, and will edify thinking men.  It is not necessary that the lecture be written. Indeed, one who is
accustomed to extemporaneous discourse will gen



42   METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
erally make a better use of the same material in
extempore speech than if written, and produce a
more marked effect upon his hearers. But it is
necessary that the subject be well digested, and
every position carefully considered; as one is liable,
if he trusts too much to the inspiration of the moment, to say things that his calmer judgment would
condemn.
If the subject is one that is susceptible of being
illustrated by diagrams, or by the use of apparatus,
no pains should be spared to procure them, as it adds
much to the interest, and also to the permanence of
the conceptions, if they are conveyed to the mind of
the hearer through two of the senses. Objection is
sometimes made to employing men from other professions, as the Law and Divinity, to deliver these lectures, because, as is alleged, teaching as a profession
is thereby degraded. In answer it may be said, that
the best talent at command should be secured; and
if the profession of teaching can not furnish so good
material as the other professions, it will necessarily
be put in a subordinate position, and no propping can
prevent it. But as these are promiscuous assemblies,
it seems not only proper, but advisable, that men
frcm other professions should be called for these occasions, when the services of such are needed. It is
at least a means of enlisting their sympathies and
their mental energies in the success of the Institute.
DISCUssIoNs.-It is customary to discuss one or two




METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.  43
questions each day. These discussions should be
managed with a. view solely to elicit truth. In this
respect they differ very widely from debates in a
village lyceum, where the leaders take sides, and
choose their positions like military chieftains, marshaling their hosts for the conflict, —judges being
chosen to decide upon the result, and the only object
being to win. This is not the spirit in which a question before a Teachers' Institute should be discussed.
Indeed, it is not necessary that the matter to be considered should be presented in the form of a question.
Some of the most interesting and valuable discussions are often based upon points informally presented. The object is simply to have some topic
that is suggestive, and fruitful in its applications to
the practical business of the educator. One which
relates to the responsibilities of citizens, or which
involves the mutual interest of teachers and parents,
and which can be appropriately discussed by all,
should be preferred, especially for the evening sessions.
Subjects calculated to excite the prejudices of the
people, and to set them against the teachers, should
be avoided, as there is an abundance of topics of
vital importance which will command the devotion
of all. It should be the aim in these discussions to
pursue a high-minded course, and endeavor to develop the most valuable thoughts in the strongest
light and most attractive style,-thoughts which will




44   METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
lead public sentiment, and will tell most favorably
upon the progress of broad and liberal views. A
number of questions are proposed at the close of this
chapter, as specimens of those which may properly
be discussed.
CLAss-DRILLs.- These exercises are intended to
draw out the methods pursued by teachers in con.
ducting classes and in governing their schools. It
is the custom, where the number of teachers is very
large, to divide them into two or three classes. This
plan is advisable when rooms can be secured, or accommodations afforded for the classes, without interrupting each other; but in ordinary-sized Institutes
there is no necessity for any division. The method
of conducting a class-drill is to have some one appointed to lead, who states the subject for consideration, as for example the methods of teaching spelling, and then calls upon each one in turn, or first
upon a lady and then upon a gentleman, to state the
methods practiced, and the success attending the
employment of each. In this way the experience of
a large number of teachers, and the comparative
success of different methods, is obtained in a little
time. A similar purpose is subserved by what are
called informal meetings, where the teachers meet
an hour before the regular time of opening the daily
session, and the exercise is conducted as detailed
above.
EssA-Fs.-It adds much to the life and literary ele



METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.  45
vation of an Institute to have some good essays read
every day. These should be previously prepared,
and should consist of clear, well-arranged views upon
some subject with which the writer is thorouglly
conversant. The success of new methods of teaching,
the beauties and poetic relations of each study, or
any of the reforms in education that are being agitated, are very proper subjects. It should not be
longer than can be read in ten minutes. Essayists
should remember that the value of their pieces is to
be estimated by the number of good thoughts they
contain, more than by high-sounding phraseology;
and that ideas drawn from one's experience will be
more likely to attract attention than an imitation of
the style and opinions of another.
SUB-LECTURES.-This is a practical and very useful
species of instruction. It consists of a short extemporaneons exposition of some school-room topic, and
is given by some one of the most experienced teachers.
It should not exceed ten minutes in length, and
should be as practical and pointed as possible. The
teacher selected to give it should have a day's notice
for preparation, and may be chosen by the Institute,
or selected by the business committee.
]Musrc.-It is expected that music will be regarded
as a regular school-braneh, and that it will be treated
by an Instructor just as thoroyLlghly and systematically as any other branch. But aside from that, it is
customary to have instrumental or vocal music be



46   METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
tween the other exercises, for rest and entertainment.
Sometimes the services of a string-band, with the addition of some wind-instruments, can be secured,
which will add much to the pleasure of the occasion.
It is not unusual that members of the Institute can
organize and furnish this music. Martial music is
not desirable. A quartette of voices, with all the
parts represented, forms very agreeable entertainment. Several such clubs can be organized by the
teachers, and can practice some pieces in preparation
for the occasion, and each club can furnish the entertainment for the day. The music of a piano or melodeon is also desirable, where it can be had.
The best music, however, for an Institute, where
all will cordially unite in it, is for the whole assembly to arise and unite in singing some familiar air
every half-hour, or at the end of each general exercise. The school song-book in common use in the
county can be used, and the teachers will thereby
be acquiring facility of execution, and cultivating a
habit which will be of great service to them in leading their schools in this exercise. The airs usually
set down in this class of books are simple, are easily
mastered, and, if sung with a hearty good-will by
the whole assembly, will cause an exhilaration of
feeling and a satisfaction that no other kind of music
can afford. It is recoimmended that the teachers
adopt some good school song-book for uniform use
in the schools of the county, and that this book be




METHOD OF CONDUCTING  THE EXERCISES.   47
regularly used at the meeting of the Institute.  WVhen
this plan can be carried out successfully, no other
music is desired.
RE:ce:ss. — Every opportunity for improvement
should be embraced at an Institute, and the recess
may  be  made  to  contribute  largely to  this  end.
Teachers, of all other persons, need to cultivate their
social habits.*   The recess is a favorable opportunity
to form acquaintances and improve the conversational
powers.  Those who  are well acquainted with the
members, should be attentive in introducing those
who are not. Each one should endeavor to guard
* Extract qf a letter from Alexander Clark, Editor of " School Visitor."
— One thing, however, does occur to me as a point much neglected,
and it is of great value in the management and utility of Teachers'
Institutes-viz., Sociality.
I attended an Institute not long since, where about one hundred
teachers were assembled. Very few had ever met before in the same
relations. The several lectures were able, and somewhat practical.
The teachers seemed to be interested. Yet, when the hour for adjournment came, at noon or night, each one would course his lonely
way silently to his room. The lectures were long, and the faces
were long. There was no genial spirit abroad to happify and to
bless. Theories and technicalities took the place of smiles and
song. And the time began to grow weary, until a teacher with a
heart proposed to substitute a half-hour in social intercourse instead
of a lecture. He struck the right key. The idea was new, but it
was reasonable and right, and it was agreed to unanimously. Such
another shaking of hands and general acquaintance-making I nevel
saw.  It was the most profitable half-hour of the whole week.
There seemed to be more life and love and earnestness in every
sllbsequent exercise. I think, sir, if you should suggest the pro.
pr'iety of such an exercise, as the cultivation of our social faculties
at Teachers' Institutes, yow would be faithfully remembered.
Yours,            ALEx. CLARK.




48  METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.
against a stiff and awkward reserve on the one hand,
or being too loud and familiar on the other. The
movements should be graceful, the tones of the voice
pleasant, the countenance open, and the heart full of
the desire to make everybody agreeable and happy.
MIsCELLANEous.- It is sometimes the practice to
hlave the roll called at the close of the evening session, and to have each member respond by rising
and offering a sentiment. This usually creates considerable interest, and if all would seek good and
noble sentiments, or even true wit, it might be advisable. But the tendency to give those which will
create merriment is so great, that it frequently descends to buffoonery, and its propriety is questionable, unless under very skillful guidance.
The query-box is another means of exciting interest.
A. box is provided, into which queries upon some
useful and interesting topics are dropped, and at a
stated time each day it is opened, and a half-hour
devoted to reading and answering them. It should
always be under the charge of the executive committee, who should exercise a strict censorship over its
contents, and allow no irrelevant or improper queries
to be read.
The "old and new school" is another means of
entertainment combined with instruction.  Sonme
teacher who understands human nature pretty well,
calls out a class of scholars, and proceeds to hear
their lessons on the old stereotype method, and main.



METHOD OF CONDUCTING THE EXERCISES.  49
tains order on the autocratic plan. Then he is followed by one who teaches a class by the "better
way," maintaining authority without seeming to do
so. Reading and spelling are very good subjects to
treat in this way. It is a means of exciting much
merriment, and of impressing a useful lesson upon
the minds of those who are ignorant of the improvements being made in methods of instruction. A halfhour in the early part of the evening may be thus
employed very profitably.




FORM OF CONSTITUTION.
THEE following brief form of Constitution is presented as a guide in organizing an Institute. Several pro.
visions have been omitted, which might very properly find a place in such an instrument, but which
are not absolutely necessary to the efficient working
of such an organization. The greater the simplicity
in laws and ceremonies, in an Institute as in a school,
the better.
Art. I. This Institute shall be known as the
Teachers' Institute.
Art. II. The object of this Institute shall be, the
improvement of its members in the science.of teaching, and in the most approved practice; the diffusing
of information upon the system of Common School
Education among the people, and promoting harmony
of feeling; and the greatest possible advancement in
scientific and general information.
Art. III. Any teacher or friend of education may
become a member of this Institute by subscribing to
the Constitution, and paying an annual fee of —.
Art. IVT. The regular meetings of this Institute




FORM OF CONSTITUTION.             51
shall be held       in each year, at such times and
places as shall be fixed by the Executive Committee.
Art. V. The regular officers of this Institute shall
be a President, three Vice-Presidents, a Secretary
and Assistant Secretary, a Treasurer, an Auditor,
and an Executive Committee, and shall be elected
annually, on the first day of the first session in each
year.
Art. VI. It shall be the duty of the President, and
in his absence, a Vice-President, to preside at all
meetings of the Institute, decide points of order, preserve due decorum, and regulate the exercises according to a programme furnished him by the Institute.
Art. VII. It shall be the duty of the Secretaries
to keep a faithful record of the proceedings of the
Institute, take down an abstract of the instruction.
debates, essays, and lectures, record the report of the
Auditor, and prepare certificates of membership.
Art. VIII. It shall be the duty of the Treasurer
to keep an account with the Institute of all moneys
received and paid out, and to settle his accounts with
the Auditor at the expiration of his term of office.
Art. IX. It shall be the duty of the Auditor to
examine the accounts of the Treasurer, and report to
the Institute the condition of the treasury on the last
day of the last session of the year.
Art. X. It shall be the duty of the Executive




5 2         FORM OF CONSTITUTION.
Committee to fix the time and place for holding the
Institute,-give at least three weeks' previous notice
of the same through the county papers or by handbill,-and secure the services of competent lecturers,
instructors, essayists, and singers for conducting the
exercises.
Art. XI. All regular officers shall be elected by
ballot, and a majority shall elect.
Art. XII. Any of the provisions of this Constitution may be amended, and new articles added thereto, at any regular meeting, by giving two days' previous notice of the proposed amendment or addition,
provided two-thirds of the members present vote in
favor of such amendment or addition.




SUBJECTS FOR DISCUSSION AT AN INSTITUTE.
Is it necessary that the laboring class in a nation
should be educated? 
Should a military spirit be encouraged among the
pupils of our common-schools?
In what way can a teacher most successfully impart moral instruction in school?
Should moral instruction be a stated exercise, or
be only incidentally introduced?
Should physical culture be made one of the regu
lar branches of instruction in our common-schools?
How can pupils best be taught good manners a
Should singing be one of the regular branches
taught in school?
Are our courses of study and methods of teaching
sufficiently practical?
What disposition should a teacher make of his
time out of school-hours?
What is the true philosophy of school-government?
WThat motives and incentives to study ought to be
appealed to?
Are public school examinations and exhibitions
ad visable?




54         SUBJECTS FOR DISCUSSION.
What is the true philosophy of illustration?
What methods of instruction will most successfully
lead pupils to original investigation?
AWhat are the proper spheres of the inductive and
the deductive methods of instruction?
AX hat is the best method of teaching by the use of
object lessons?
Should a text-book be prepared in the form of
question and answer?
By what plan can a teacher best succeed in keeping his pupils employed?
Should prizes and rewards be offered for superiority of scholarship?
What rules ought a teacher to make at the opening of his school?
What are the prominent causes of failure in teaching0,.
What kind of physical education is best adapted
for introduction in the school-room?
What are the causes of the declining health of
pupils, and the remedies?
Can music be combined to advantage with physical education in our common-schools?
How can the cordial co-operation of parents be
best secured?
What are the prominent defects of text-books?
What is the best order of time for arranging the
classes for recitation?
What is the natural order of mental development?




SUBJECTS FOR DISCUSSION.        55
Can teaching be reduced to a science?
What are the comparative merits of mixed and
graded schools?
Does the pecuniary prosperity of a nation depend
upon its intelligence?
Does the stability of a nation depend upon the
universal diffusion of intelligence?
Do the good morals of a community depend upon
its intelligence?




TIlE THEORY OF INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION.
HAVING sketched the object of a Teachers' Institute, the method of conducting it, and the plan of
instruction, it seems proper in concluding to present,
as a base of operations, some views upon the Theory
of Education.
Much has been said of late about "Object Lessons," the " Pestalozzian System," the " True Order
of Studies," the " Hierarchy of Knowledge," and the
" Science of Pedagogy." The minds of scholars seem
to be deeply agitated upon these subjects,-the inquiry is being earnestly made whether teaching is
really a science, —and from this movement in the
educational forces, we may confidently anticipate
some substantial progress.
The plan of making Object Lessons a part of the
course of instruction for primary schools, is a great
improvement over former methods. It consists ill
presenting to a class of children some object, as a
book, and suggesting an inquiry into its constituents
— paper, leather, thread, paste, ink-how each of
these is made-how printing is done-how the pictures are made-the art of engraving. Get tile chilren.




THEORY OF EDUCATION.             7
themselves to search in dictionaries, encyclopedias,
inquire of parents, visit printing-offices, book-binderies; and induce them to find out and tell every
thing that it is possible for them to know upon the subject. The next lesson may be a knife, involving the
raw materials of which it is made, and the method
of transmuting them into the finished implement.
Object Lessons are an off-shoot of the plan of Pestalozzi, the chief merit of whose system consisted in
seeking out the most ingenious method of presenting
a subject so as to catch and rivet the attention of the
pupil, so as to enable him to think about it for himself, and induce him to present inquiries of his own.
It was the system of feeding the mind sparingly, with
only such material as it was capable of digesting,
and for which a healthy and regular appetite was
thus created. Hence, the pupils of Pestalozzi were
noted for their vivacity, the clearness of their conceptions, for their animation and interest in all their
duties.
Disquisitions upon the True Order of Studies, are
based upon an inquiry into the order in which the
several faculties of the mind are developed, and an
arrangement of the studies which each faculty is
capable of investigating in a corresponding order.
And by the Hierarchy of Knowledge is meant an
exhaustive analysis of the whole field of spiritual inquiry, embracing in their broadest signification,
Mathematics, Physics, History, Psychology,. and




58          THEORY OF EDUCATION.
Theology. Each branch in the domain of science,
by this theory, is assigned to that period in the mental life of the pupil, when that faculty is supposed to
be developed which is fitted for its investigation.
The Science of Pedagogy, though not systematized, is supposed to rest upon a thorough knowledge
of the human faculties, and of adapting the training
of each to its needs and capabilities. It is maintained, that, as the mathematician can calculate with
unerring certainty on the results of his reasoning, and
the chemist can combine his elements with an unfailing confidence in the product which will come from
them, so the teacher, when lie has examined and
knows the mental condition of a pupil, can, without
difficulty, prescribe the course necessary to be pursued with him to secure the wished-for results.
Such is in brief a statement of the progress which
speculative inquiry has thus far made upon the
Theory of Education.
It is indeed gratifying to know that the minds of
the present generation of educators are aroused, and
that the whole subject is undergoing investigation.
But in making our generalizations, and in establishing our theories, we should be careful to proceed
upon correct principles, and not push the application
of a system beyond its legitimate bounds. It is one
thing to set up an arbitrary theory, and bend all the
facts and reasonings to the support of that theory:
but it is quite a different process to begin in the op



THEORY OF EDUCATION.            59
posite direction, and, from a diligent search of the
facts and their relations, accept such a theory as an
unbiased mind would naturally draw from  them.
In our attempts at theory we must not forget those
rules of investigation bequeathed to us by Bacon and
Descartes.
The first inquiry to be made in prosecuting our
researches should be, What is the character of this
human soul that we propose to educate, and what
results is it desirable to attain as the end of our labors?  Whether the mind of the child is a kind of
vacant receptacle, that it is the business of education
to fill, or whether it is really an independent living
intelligence, susceptible of growth and capable of
originating thought, does not seem to be definitely
settled in the minds of our educational theorists:
nor do they seem clearly to understand how much
the pupil ought to have done for him, and how much
lie ought to be made to do for himself.
If we rely too much upon the system of object
lessons, we may succeed in accumulating vast stores
of knowledge, all very useful, but we may fail in
strengthening the mental fiber, in securing acuteness
of conception, and the power of original thought.
By this course the senses may be nicely developed,
and the objective powers receive thorough culture,
while the faculties of reflection and generalization
are dwarfed, and the subjective elements are submerged beneath miscellaneous accumulations.




60           THEORY OF EDUCATION.
Any attempt to arrange the order in which the
faculties are developed, and to draw up a corresponding order of studies, is attended with much perplexity. The study of geometry, for instance, which
calls into exercise the perceptive faculties, the earliest of the mental powers developed, requires for
many of its most elementar~y'demonstrations a nicety
of conception, and a power of combination, which is
rarely attained till the period of maturity. The study
of language, on the other hand, which involves in its
investigation the exercise of powers among the last
developed, is among the earliest gifts brought into
requisition, is retained in most constant use through
life, and should be cultivated with the greatest care
from infancy. Imagination and taste, too, those faculties which are the last to be philosophically developed, are seen in active operation in earliest childhood. Observe the little girl, all alone in her rude
play-house, and listen to her as she entertains corn,
pany, and waits on her table, or " keeps school" and
chastises her refractory pupils.  Observe, too, how
readily she recognizes taste in dress, and designates
this as ugly, and that as beautiful.
From these considerations, it would seem that we
can not safely follow any arbitrary analysis in making
a true order of studies; though such analysis may
be of use to us in pursuing our investigations.
Let us come then directly to the inquiry, WVhat is
the true Theory of Intellectual Education?




THEORY OF EDUCATION.            61
There seem to be two periods in the development
of the mind which are sufficiently distinct to be
marked, but which are not capable of being entirely
separated from each other. The first and the earliest
period is that during which the objective elements
are in the ascendency, and the knowledge acquired
is, in the main, of the concrete. The second and
later period is that during which the subjective elements are in the ascendency, and the knowledge acquired is, in much the larger proportion, of the abstract.
The perceptive faculties and consciousness first set
the mind into operation, and by them we acquire a
knowledge of the qualities of matter and the energies
of mind, the only kinds of knowledge which these
two faculties reveal. But intimately associated with
these, and apparently stimulated into action by them,
are suggested ideas of space, time, cause and effect,
and the results of reason, reflection, and generalization. But every one who is acquainted with the
minds of children, knows that these latter knowledges are not grappled with, and mastered, till the
mind has attained a considerable degree of maturity,
and that it must acquire extended experience of the
world around, and the realm within, preparatory to
entering upon the investigation of these ideas.
During the first period of development, the perceptive faculties and consciousness are much more
active and acute than at a sulbsequent stage, indicat



62           THEORY OF EDUCATION.
ing that nature designed this to be the period during
which these faculties should be most carefully educated. It is doubtless true that during the first five
or six years of life, by far the greater proportion of
the ideas attained by these faculties are acquired.
At a later period the reflective faculties become
more active, and the susceptibility for percept'ens
more sluggish.  I-Hence the old man can depict the
events of early life much more vividly than he can
what has transpired in later years. During the first
period the knowledge we acquire consists principally
of facts, at a later period of principles, facts being
retained only as they are referred to principles.*
By the first set of faculties we are gathering the
material which the second will at a later period use.
During the first we sow the seed, —during the second
we reap the harvest, and we naturally conclude that
the fruits of the harvest will be in proportion to the
care and culture bestowed at seed-time.
It would seem, then, that in forming our theory of
a true education, we must not lose sight of this twofold nature of the mind itself, and must perceive
that -the same theory can not apply to both periods.
The notion that the mind is a kind of vacant receptacle, which needs to be filled, as applicable to the
first period, is not very far from true, but very erroneous when applied to the second. The mind during
* For.the development of these ideas in their application to the
study of language, see page 178 of INSTITUTE LECTUtRESo




THEORY OF EDUCATION,            63
this first period is like the fallow earth, mellow, and
ready for the grain.
That the mind consists of a set of active growing
faculties, which must be trained and stimulated to
action, which need to have correct habits engrafted
upon them, and taught to become skilled in curious
workmanship, is true when applied to the second
period. If education during the first period corresponds to the fallow earth receiving the seed grain,
during the second it corresponds to the careful cultivation bestowed upon it by the husbandman, wherein the soil is shaped and opened to the sun, and
stimulated to produce from its own latent resources
the abundant fruit.
If, then, these views be correct, the business of
education during this first period of development
should be to furnish the mind with the material of
thought; and to this end the perceptive faculties
and consciousness should receive careful culture, and
be stimulated to vigorous healthy action. Upon the
activity of these faculties, and the accumulations
thus early made, depends in a great measure richness
of thought in after years. Many a one is born,
walks through the world with his eyes open, and
makes his exit, without ever seeing what is constantly above, around, and beneath him. Beauty is in
the landscape, incense upon the gale, glory in the
heavens, but he knows it not!
Object lessons, then, which shall quicken the per



64             THEORY OF EDUCATION.
ceptions of the child, which shall wake up his drowsy
senses and attract his attention,-which shall fix the
habit of minutely attending to the deliverances of
consciousness, is a kind of training that is peculiarly
adapted to this, the earliest period of development.
And it is with the utmost pleasure that we hail every
attempt to introduce and popularize this species of
instruction.* The dumb and senseless methods of
primary teaching which formerly prevailed, have too
long disgraced our systems of popular education.
The fossils embedded in the rocks of Scotland, and
scattered along the chalky shores of England, were
more intelligent and inspiring teachers to the soul
of IIugh Miller, than were the schoolmasters who
crammed his mind with dry formulae, and, to him,
senseless jargon. Let children be taught the concrete during  the first years of school life.  Let
them have some mental aliment that they can
relish, some material for thought that they can
comprehend.  Give them  the kind of knowledge
that they naturally crave, and which they will receive with exceeding joy.
Ad Since preparing the manuscript of these pages, we have been
informed that Prof. Welch, of the Michigan State Normal School,
has a work on "Object Lessons" in course of publication, especially designed for use in the school-room. The eminent ability
and philosophical turn of mind of Prof. Welch, together with his
experience as a teacher, combine to create the expectation of a
work from his pen of rare merit. A good practical work on this
subject would be received with delight by every earnest-minded
teacher.




THEORY OF EDUCATION.               65
But there is another fact, in connection with this
system of primary instruction, which must not be
lost sight of. Although the perceptive faculties are
in the ascendency during this first period, still they
are not in exclusive control of the mental energy.
All the higher faculties are beginning to operate
froln earliest childhood, and are used with remarkable quickness and readiness, though with comparatively feeble power.  This early period is but the preparatory state for their vigorous and controlling
action.  Hence the early instruction, while it is
primarily devoted to these first faculties developed,
should also be devoted to a preparation for the successful action of the higher faculties.
Care, then, should be taken that the early instruction be duly classified, and so arranged that it shall
be retained in the memory upon the principle of
philosophical association; and that each successive
accumulation of knowledge shall take its place in the
memory in its appropriate class. Every opportunity
must be seized of bringing into judicious exercise
the higher faculties, and a beginning must be made
of their training. In making this beginning, is required the skill of a master hand. It will not answer
for a teacher to talk generalizations to a class of
children;  for although it is plain to him, a fill is
* What became familiar to him [the teacher] only by severe and
protracted effort, seems capable of being learned by his pupil in




66              THEORY OF EDUCATION.
over their eyes. It is a difficult task, in giving instruction, to pass from the concrete to the abstract,
from the real to the ideal. The most ingenious devices and delicate tests are here in constant requisition.
We must, during this first period, commence the
education of the will.  For a man's success in life
depends, after all, upon the efficiency of this power.
It is the regal faculty, the monarch of the mind.
The power to command our faculties, to put them
upon the consideration of a subject, and to keep
them employed, is really the great end of education.
The power of independent thinking depends upon
this.  Hence, the habit must be imparted, during the
early training, of bringing the mind to act at stated
periods, and of patiently and persistently performing
tasks. The child must not be suffered to believe that
he can have his education done for him, or that there
is any royal road to learning.  The earth sown with
good seed, and most carefully cultivated, will only
much shorter time than is actually possible. In these respects, it
becomes a teacher to be on his guard. He should consider, not
what he can now do, but what he could have done when under the
circumstances of his pupils. He should, therefore, be careful to assure himself that what he teaches is understood. He who will bear
these things in mind, will not often have to complain of the stn
pidity of his pupils. When an instructor finds all his pupils block
heads, the indication is certainly ambiguous; there is a blockhead
somewhere, but whether it belong to the teacher or the pupil, becomes a proper subject of inquiry.- Wayland's Intellectufal Ptilosophy,
p. 276.




THEORY OF EDUCATION.            67
produce such a crop as the elements in its own
bosom are capable of nurturing.
The education of the will leads us very naturally
from the first to the second period of development.
The will must be educated, not only to enable the
pupil to observe constantly, and to engrave upon the
tablets of the soul every result of consciousness, but
it must also be subservient to making him a patient
and independent thinker.  Wh/at we learn is of importance, but it is only important according to the
use we make of it by the higher faculties. We may,
by careful training, give the mind great acuteness
of perception and vividness of idea, but unless the
pupil acquires the power of analysis and generalization, unless he can compare and combine his acquisitions, so as to deduce therefrom new and original
knowledge, and is able to test the opinions of others
by the powers of his own understanding, then his
preparatory training has been comparatively useless.
The pupil may be taught the profound mysteries of
creation, and led by the poet's numbers to the
highest heaven of invention; but unless he has a
soul capable of appreciating these, vain are the
searches of the philosopher and the brilliant fancy
of the poet.
During this second period of development, we must
attentively consider how much it is proper for the
teacher to do for his pupils, and in what way it shall
be done. If the pupil is to be made to do all for




68             THEORY OF EDUCATION.
himself, there would be little need of a teacher, be.
yond directing and keeping him to his tasks. The
wonderful success that has attended the efforts of our
self-educated men, and we have many in our midst,
would seem to indicate that we may be guilty of too
much crowding instruction upon our pupils. Or
rather it may indicate, that our efforts should more
especially be directed to such methods of instruction
as shall successfully exercise and strengthen the will.
The ultimate object, then, of education being to
minister to the growth and independent action of a
living, acting  intelligence, and  this  growth  and
action being dependent upon the efforts which itself
puts forth in its own behalf, the only method of deciding upon what course a pupil shall be put, is by
an inquiry into his mental status.*
And here is needed the greatest skill of the teacher,
to know how to classify his scholars, and prescribe
for their intellectual wants. They are not to be arranged according to age, or courses of studies they
* What, indeed, are almost all the processes of our schools but
the tame retravel of beaten paths, or the rank empiricism of unphil
osophical experiment? How uncertain, in any given case, is the ro
sult which shall flow from the schooling of our children! Where i'
the school that is not in some part, and to some extent still, a
Procrustean bed; the pupil that is too short must stretch or be
stretched; the pupil that is, unfortunately, of too tall a growth fo2
the ordinary course of puerilities must lose his head, or take to his
heels. How many ruined intellects, spoiled in the training, lie
scattered through the land, telling of the fatal mistakes made in the
school-rooms!-Address of Hon. J.. G'eyory, Superintendent of Publdi
listruction, Michigan.




THEORY OF EDUCMTION.            69
claim to have pursued, but according to mentality.
For, of all things, we are to avoid putting a scholar
to learn what he can not understand. Like a person
attempting to ford a river beyond his depth, he will
be submerged. In no particular have our teachers
more signally failed, and in none do they need more
careful training, than in the ability to classify. The
study to be pursued must be suited to the capacity.
It is vain to put a scholar to work upon a branch requiring the vigorous exercise of the reflective faculties, if he has not come to that period when these
faculties are in the ascendency; and hence he must
be kept at his primary or preparatory courses till
that condition has been developed. To a large portion of the human race this period never comes,
though, probably, iearly all could be educated up to
that point, were their primary instruction properly
conducted.
When the studies have been assigned after due
classification, the main purpose should be to lead the
pupil to independent thought, and to original investigation. The danger is, that he will merely learn
what is found in the book, without fathoming its
bearings and the extent of its purport. It is impossible for the writer of a text-book to fully develop
and enlarge upon the various parts of his treatise.
lie can do little more than set forth, in the briefest
possible manner, the elements of the science. It is
but a skeleton of the subject, whereas volumes might




'0o          THEORY OF EDUCATION.
perhaps be written upon a single branch of what he
has treated. The teacher, then, must be able to take
this skeleton and inspire it with life, and lead his
pupil not only to think the thoughts of the text-book,
but to branch out, and understand fully all its relations, and be independent of and far beyond it.
The true theory of instruction is to pass from the
application of principles in a particular case, to the
generalization for all cases of that class —or to the
rule. All sciences proceed from the simple to the
more intricate. From a few definitions or axioms,
we develop, by degrees, all the abstruse principles
of the science. It should be the aim to accustom the
scholar, at every step in his progress, to use what he
has already mastered, in developing and discovering
for himself the principles which must follow. By
cultivating and fostering these habits of mind,
scholars. have been enabled to make plain that which
is intricate, to discover new truth, and to greatly enlarge the boundaries of knowledge.
To establish a course of instruction which shall
secure these results, it is proper that the teacher
should know what plan of conducting a class recitation will prove most effectual.  Of the manner in
which class recitations are conducted during the second period of development, an analysis may be made
into three classes, each of which has some advantages
and defects.
The leading feature in the first method consists in




THEORY OF EDUCATION.             71
requiring the pupil to so prepare himself for recitation, that he can, without any aid or hint from book
or teacher, state the topics and develop the principles of the whole or any part of the lesson,-can give
a complete resumze of the author,-while it is the
study of the instructor, if he asks any questions, to
be sure that the pupil shall gather from it no clue to
the answer. In pursuing this method the teacher
exercises a stern censorship, and holds his pupil to a
strict account for the preparation and proper understanding of his lessons. By this course the scholar
learns to depend upon himself,-a habit invaluable
in the subsequent pursuit of learning, in the practice
of any of the learned professions, and in fact in any
of the duties of life. But this system possesses many
radical defects, and its virtues are only of the negative character. It is the old stereotype method of
hearing classes say their lessons, which a wooden
man might do nearly as well. " We can easily conceive," says Dr. Huntington, " of all the bare mate*rial of instruction being conveyed into a school-room
through a mechanism of pipes in the wall, or maps
let down by pulleys, and its discipline administered
by a veiled executioner, no heart-relations being suffered to grow up between teacher and taught."
A teacher of the second class pursues a course entirely different from this. His system of instruction
consists in pouring out a profusion of knowledge
upon every subject broached in the class-room.




7z2       -THEORY OF EDUCATION.
Filled with enthusiasm himself, he is impatient to
inspire his pupils with his own conceptions. Without waiting for the pupil to tell in an indifferent
manner what he can dilate upon so well, and unable
to command the impartiality of a judge and the patience of a listener, he tells every thing, he explains
every thing, and rising with the feelings which his
subject excites, he glows with an eloquence which
reaches the coldest heart, and awakens the feeblest
mind. If a question be proposed, he does not ask it
so as to elicit the cold naked fact, but in such a
manner that the pupil can not fail to answer it correctly; or he includes the answer in the glowing
statement of the question, and concludes with " Must
it not be so?" or, "Can it be otherwise a." "Does not
that logically follow?"
The advantage of this method consists in the opportunity it affords for every member of a class to
acquire some knowledge of the subject, and to appreciate its spirit. No scholar completely fails. Each
takes in what his capacity and inclination will allow,
and though in a portion of almost every class it will
be very moderate, yet with this grade of students it
will be likely to be something more than would be
acquired by the first method. For, when a pupil
without capacity is compelled to con for recitation
what he can not understand, or the pupil with capacity is compelled to do the same thing without
fully comprehending, or feeling the force of what




THEORY OF EDUCATION.             G
he has prepared to recite, the advantage is very
slight.
There are some evils connected with this second
method of instruction. The pupil is not trained to
habits of accuracy and self-reliance. He fails to
acquire a control over his faculties, and the power
of thinking how and when he pleases; but he must
wait for a favorable moment-for the lucid interval
-and his efforts are desultory and governed by fits
of enthusiasm. The effect upon his habits of stcdy
is even worse. It has a tendency to render the
efforts of the best scholars irregular in the preparation of their lessons, to make the irregular still more
erratic and careless, and to lessen the incentives of
the dull and heedless to improve even the feeble
talents they have.
The third method of instruction is a combination
of the former two. The representative teacher of
this class first rigidly exacts of the pupil a systematic
and lucid statement of the lesson assigned, and critically examines him upon the opinions which he has
acquired from it, and the grounds upon which they
are based. He then opens to him the stores of his
own mind, and dilates with all the fervor of his nature upon the relations, the beauties, and the glories
of the subject. This method combines the excellencies of both the former, without embracing many of
their defects. The pupil is in the first place encouraged to make all the discoveries he can upon the
4




74          THEORY OF EDUCATION.
subject, by the exercise of his own unaided powers
of understanding, and to set them forth to the teacher
as best he can. He thus gets credit for all that he
is able to do, and is encouraged by every day's success to do the best possible. There is at least the
stimulus of fair opportunity, with an attentive instructor able to weigh and duly appreciate every
consideration presented. But the system would be
imperfect were this all. The teacher now takes up
the subject, and is able from his familiarity with it
to elucidate and explain the matter from a different
and a higher stand-point. His information is not
confined to the mere skeleton of the science presented
in the text-book; but he has read extended treatises
upon it, and can pour forth from the treasuries of his
knowledge what will imbue the subject with new
life. He can view the matter as a whole, and at
each step has the advantage of the accumulated
light of that which is to come, as well as that which
has been passed over by the class. He is able to
perceive, too, the poetic relations of the science, and
the relation which this particular branch sustains in
a system of complete development.
As this system of conducting a class recitation is
by far the most complete and philosophic, it is
recommended above all others, and he who adopts
and pursues it with enthusiasm, who feels the moral
dignity of his calling, and the value of his work,
can not fail to win victories in a field where the op



THEORY OF EDUCATION.            5s
portunities are constantly recurring, and where skill
and bravery are sure of success..
We can not close these considerations upon the
Theory of Education, without observing that no system is worthy the name that does not provide for
the physical and moral training, as well as the intellectual. The worst product of our school-system is
that of an educated villain, and the next remove
from it is that of an educated invalid. From the
earliest point in education the moral and the physical
energies should be the subjects of careful systematic
culture, and it is hoped that the day is not far distant
when text-books in each of these sciences will be in
as constant and regular use in all our schools, as
those upon any other branch.
RE N11D.