ESSAYS:
HISTORICAL,
LITERARY,
EDUCATIONAL
BY
WILLIAM CHAUNCEY FOWLER, LL.D.
-rintlf   be
THE CASE, LOCKWOOD & BRAINARD CO.
HARTFORD;
1876.








CONT ENTS.
1. THE ORIGIN OF THE THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL IN YALE COLLEGE,                                           -  1
2. THE APPOINTMENT OF NATHANIEL WILLIAM TAYLOR TO TIHE
CHAIR OF THE DWIGHT PROFESSORSHIP OF DIDACTIC
THEOLOGY IN YALE COLLEGE, -                       27
3. REPORT ON AN ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT, 72
4. ENGLISH UNIVERSITIES, -       -     -      -      - 81
5. OBITUARY NOTICE OF PROFESSOR ALEXANDER METCALF
FISHER,       -     -      -      -      -      - 141
6. MEMOIR OF MR. RUFUS WOODWARD,                     - 151
7. REVIEW OF SILLIMAN'S CHEMISTRY,                   - 175
8. REVIEW OF THOMPSON'S SERMONS,       -      -      - 190
9. THE CULTIVATION OF THE TASTE,       -             - 210
10. READING AS A MEANS OF CULTURE,   -         -      - 234
1 1. EDUCATIONAL INFLUENCE OF LIBRARIES, -     -      - 255
12. ELOQUENCE,    -       -      -      -      -      - 264
13. CLERGY AND COMMON SCHOOLS, -               -      - 281








INTIRODUCTOJRY NOTE.
A considerable number of the following essays have been published in  "The Christian Spectator," or "North American Review,"
or "The Theological and Literary Journal," or "The Knickerbocker," or "The American Journal of Education," and are collected now for the first time.








Theological School
OF YALE COLLEGE.
BY PROF. WILLIAM C. FOWLER, LL.D.
IN the vacation following the Commencement of 1817, I
went to New Haven to make some arrangements for entering
tile Theological Seminary at Andover. This was the same
year that was darkened by the death of Prest. Timothy Dwight.
Accidentally meeting Samuel 1B. Ingersoll, who had just taken
his degree, I was urged by him to give up my purpose of going
to Andover and to study theology under Professor Fitch, if he
would receive us. I entertained his proposals so far as to
consent to an interview with Professor Fitch on the subject.
Accordingly we immediately went to see him.  He appeared
to be very much pleased, and told us he would take the subject into consideration.  O1n our second visit he expressed
great readiness to receive us as students, saying that he
thought it would be a great advantage to himself, inasmuch
as it would necessitate a review of his studies, which would
help to qualify him to prepare a course of sermons on doctrinal
subjects, as Professor of Divinity in Yale College. While the
matter was pending, I was urged to accept the office of rector
of the Hopkins Grammar School, a position which I had oc



2
cupied for a portion of the summer term of my senior year.
I concluded to accept the appointment and also study theology with Professor Fitch, who had impressed me very favorably.
Accordingly Mr. Ingersoll and myself comrmenced our
course in theology with Professor Fitcli, at the commencement of the next college term, visiting his house, the same
which is now occupied by Professor Thacher, two evenings a
week, and confining our attention for the first term to Biblical
criticism. In the course of the term we were joined by Win.
Graham, a graduate of Jefferson College, Pa., of the year
1816; during the same term I received letters from Edward
Bull, my class-mate, writing for himself and David N. Lord,
inquiring about the advantages they would enjoy, in studying
theology in New Haven. I wrote in reply, urging them to
join us at the commencement of the next term: This they
concluded to do.
Thus at the commencement of the second term our class
consisted of five in number.  Soon after Horace Hooker and
Joseph D. Wickham joined us, who were then tutors in Yale
College.  After this our class was increased by Epaphras
Goodman, a graduate of Dartmouth College, of the class of
1816. The next year Edward Hitchcock joined us, who received the degree of A. M. from Yale College in 1818; and
also Lyman Coleman, a tutor in the college, and Levi Smith,
who graduated at Yale College in 1818.  At a later period,
Stephen D. Ward, a graduate of Princeton College, of the
class of 1819, also joined us. The whole number of the class
was twelve.
After the commencement of the second term, the class requested one of the tutors, either Mr. Hooker or Mr. Wickhaml,
to invite Professor Kingsley to instruct us in the Hebrew
language, which he consented to do.  Some months later, I
was requested by the class to invite Professor Goodrich to
instruct us in elocution, and the composition of sermons.
At the commencement of the second term, January, 1818,
I invited the class to hold their recitations in the Hopkins
Grammar School-house, on the corner of Temple and Crofvn




3
streets. Accordingly the recitations were afterwards held
there. In our exercises we pursued much the same course as
the one pursued at Andover.
Professor Fitch, " with the vision and faculty divine," Professor Kingsley with his thorough scholarship and keen
sagacity, Professor Goodrich, with his earnest and discursive
mind, kindling as it ran, united their efforts for our improvement. With these efforts the class were not only entirely
satisfied, but were grateful for them, and the professors appeared to be highly pleased with our progress.
In our exercises with Professor Fitch, we were especially
interested in the science of Biblical criticism, or Exegesis, a
term that was beginning to be current.  The opinion that the
language of the Bible must be interpreted in the same way as
the language of any other book, was readily welcomed. This
opinion seemed to dispel the cloud of mysticism or mystery,
that in some of our minds, had enveloped that sacred book..
Several of us imported and read German books, one of which,
Ernesti, three of us united to translate into the English language; certain portions being assigned to each. We carried
our design into execution so far, that each of the three read
portions of the book to the tutors' club, which met weekly.
While thus engaged, Professor Stuart's translation of the
book was announced, and this relieved us from our labors.
In our investigations in theology proper, we pushed our
discussions on some points to the utmost limits of orthodoxy.
Professor Fitch himself was a seeker after truth, and thus was
in the same attitude of mind that we were. He was not
polemic; he was not dogmatic; and if he was didactic, he was
so rather in regard to the means of arriving at the truth, than
in regard to the ultimate conclusions. It was pleasant in the
class-room, to hear him state an abstract doctrine to us, as if
he was a pure intelligence addressing pure intelligences; and
then to hear him in the chapel on the Sabbath, exhibiting the
same doctrine in the relations of logic, rhetoric, and poetry,
sometimes in thrilling tones, as if he was a human being addressing human beings. It was no wonder that, on one occasion when he had preached in the chapel, before his ordina



4
tion, Governor John Cotton Smith, who heard him without
knowing his name, exclaimed, as he came out, 1" Who is this
angel from heaven, who has preached to us this morning?"
We enjoyed other advantages. The class, though organized
by'a voluntary association, enjoyed the advantage of being
considered a part and parcel of Yale College-that school of
the prophets.
On the death of President Timothy Dwight, January 11,
1817, great anxiety was felt for the college. Men who still
retained distinct impressions of the energetic intellect and
fervid eloquence of President Stiles, "6 the most learned scholar
in America," and fresher impressions of President Dwight,
imperial in mind, manner, and person, in their opinion the
beau ideal of what a president of Yale College should be, in
their regret and despondency were ready to say, "' These suns
have set, 0 rise some other such!"' In the expected political
change from the charter of Charles II., to a constitution
adopted by the people, they feared that in some way the interests of Yale College would be compromised.
After the appointment of President Day, it became known
generally among the friends of the college, that in him the
elements were so mixed that there was no redundancy and no
deficiency; that " good without pretence," his "' mind of large
discourse was able to look before and after,"' and was thus not
liable to be jostled from its place by the surging impulses of
the present; that he was to be the Palinurus, the pilot who
could weather the storm and with a wary eye and steady hand
could take the ship into port. The public were reassured.
At a festival attended by the citizens of New Haven, a toast
was drank:-"' We want no brighter light than that of Day."
Strangers were strongly impressed in his favor.  When two
from abroad were speaking of him with admiration, one said,' Why, he has the head of Leo."
Five of the class were tutors in the college. At one period
when there were only three tutors, who were members of the
class, the other three tutors were William T. Dwight, Professor Alexander M. Fisher, and Rufus Woodward. Mr.
Dwight was by inheritance a theologian, being a son of Presi



dent Timothy Dwight; and thougn then studying law, afterwards became an eminent divine in Portland, Maine. Professor Alexander Metcalf Fisher, the eminent mathematician,
who was lost in the "Albion," in- the year 1822, had studied,
after his graduation, a year under his pastor, Dr. Emmons,
that Corypheus in theology, and another year at Andover.
Dr. Emmons had discussed with him the many knotty questions connected with this science. He put into his hands the
objections of leading skeptics, as nuts for him to crack. He
put into his hands a small tract by Hume, not published in his
works, in which the author, then a young man, treats the
common arguments in favor of existence of the Deity as fallacious. Professor Fisher's mode of treating subjects may be
seen in the Christian Spectator, Vol. I., monthly series, p. 414.
Mr. Woodward fully equaled these two in breadth of mind
and depth of research even in theological subjects, especially
the Evidences of Christianiity.  Mr. Woodward also contributed a number of able articles to the Christian Spectator. (See
Memoir, Christian Spectator, Vol. VII., p. 113.)
The class, too, had the advantage of witnessing and aiding
a great revival in New Haven. For an account of this revival
see Christian /Spectator, Vol. III., p. 49, signed by Samuel
Merwin, and Nathaniel W. Taylor, in which mention is made
of the theological students. It was during this revival that
the lay preachers of New Haven became distinguished and
called forth the letter of Professor Stuart, to correct or prevent
any evils attendant upon their course. These men believed
in the great power of prayer, united with personal appeals to
the unconverted. They visited other towns and made their
reports Saturday evenings at Mr. Timothy Dwight's.  Several
evenings I was present when the reports were given in. The
persons that I remember among themn were Timothy Dwight,
Dwight Williams, Levi Stillman, Seth Bliss, S. P. Davis,
Sherman Converse, and S. S. Jocelyn. In many cases their
public addresses and their private appeals and prayers appeared to be attended with a divine blessing. This was more
strikingly the case at first than it was after the novelty lhad
passed by. They may some of them -have been over-confident




6
at first, but afterwards were more inclined to sustain a divinity school than to exercise any clerical functions themselves.
Apprehensions were entertained by clergymen and others,
that evils would grow out of this system injurious to the clergy,
and the order of the churches. At one time there seemed to
be some ground for that apprehension.  Embracing the-opinion that prayer and correspondent exertion could at any time
produce a revival of religion, they were inclined to blame those
ministers and those churches where there was no revival.
Said one, in his report: " We visited such a minister and such
a church, we found the sentinel (the minister) sleeping at his
post."  A good woman present, in the warmth of her feelings,
exclaimed, " He ought to be shot." But, this feeling gradually died out and none were more efficient or generous patrons
of the future theological school than were the so-called laypreachers.  Mr. Timothy Dwight gave five thousand dollars
for founding a professorship in it.
At the period we are considering, distinguished preachers
addressed audiences in New Haven. Dr. Asahel Nettleton,
with his strong scriptural doctrines, pungent appeals to the
conscience, and his sepulchral voice coming up from the depths
of his soul, would hold a great audience breathless, as if eternity and heaven were everything, and time and earth nothing.
Then7 too, there was Dr. Lyman Beecher, with so much of
the old and familiar as to furnish a basis of argument in the
minds of his hearers, and so much of the new as to keep their
attention; with so much of the abstract as to require the exercise of their reason, and so much of the concrete as to make
his thoughts intelligible; with so much of graphic power as to
awaken the imagination, and so much of his own will as to
make his subject a personal matter between him and them.
Then there was Dr. Nathaniel Hewitt, fiom  whose lips,
when his soul was charged, would " leap the live thunder" to
the heads and hearts of his congregation.  There was also
Dr. Thomas H. Skinner, whose soul was so fill of life that he
vitalized all the truths' which lie uttered.
Then there was Dr. John Rice, whose large mind and large
heart were so 4" touched to fine issues," that his hearers readily




7
gave themselves up to his guidance. It was of him that President Jefferson said: " If that measure is adopted, John Rice
will set all Virginia in a blaze." Other distinguished preachers might be mentioned. I should not omit to mention Rev.
Samuel Merwin, who was pastor of the North church in New
Haven, saintly ill character, in aspect and manner,-a model
pastor. Dr. Taylor was pastor of the Center church, and was
at the height of his popularity as a pieacher and a man.
Rev. Dr. Emmons, having been called to preach an ordination sermon in North Guilford, was invited to visit New
Haven, and to preach in the North Church.  There was a
general attendance of the intelligent Christians of New Haven
to hear this far-famed theologian.  He preached a sermon
on the relation between the fore-knowledge of God and His
decrees, to an appreciating and admiring audience, which was
a fine specimen of his terse and compact style of writing, and
of his inferential theology.
The religious controversies formerly existing in New Haven had at that time died out, but had left the leading men
there well acquainted with the doctrines at issue in those controversies, and ready to converse intelligently about them.
Some of these men had sat under the pastoral ministration of
the venerable Chauncey Whittlesey, of that profound metaphysician, the younger Jonathan Edwards of the White Haven
church, of James Dana, that man of high culture, and of' his
successor Moses Stuart.
Among them were James Hillhouse, the statesman, the
strong prop of Yale College during the years of its weakness;
Judge Charles Chauncey, often consulted by President Dwight
on theological subjects; Noah Webster; Jtidge David Daggett, an amateur hearer of sermons and a prophetic judge of
young preachers, generous and appreciative; Judge Simeon
Baldwin, ever candid and gracious; Elizur Goodrich, Samuel
Darling, Joseph Darling, Judge Dyer White, Stephen Twimning,
Timothy Dwight, William Leffingwell, and others.  These
men seemed to take great interest in the class, and showed a
readiness to converse with them. Indeed, the religious people of New Haven seemed to view the class with favor, were




8
disposed to hear them preach, and were ready to subscribe to
the endowment of the Dwight Professorship by which the
school could become permanent.
There had been in Connecticut, from the first, a union, or
quasi union between Church and State, sanctioned as was
supposed, by the God of Israel; "' Thou leddest forth thy
people as a flock by the hands of Moses and Aaron." But by
the State constitution of 1818 Aaron was deposed from his
joint leadership with Moses.  The aureola which encircled
his head faded off. The clergy, most of them, had laid aside
their wigs. Some of them had come down from their pristine
elevation "' to become all things to all men." Had they kept
on their wigs, had they not come down from their elevation,
they might, perhaps, according to the remark of Roger Minot
Sherman, have kept back the revolution for a time. After
1818 they could no longer be recognized by the General Assembly as a power in the State. They could no longer take
their annual public dinner at Hartford, furnished at the expense of the State.  The people, by their vote declared in
favor of "toleration," and the clergy had nothing to do but
gracefully submit to the loss of their prestige.
With some feeling of bereavement and degradation they
naturally turned their thoughts to Yale College, which had
always been their pride and their love. It was at first the
child of the clergy, and afterwards the Alma Mater of most
of them. The ministers of the'" standing order " of Connecticut had their attention especially turned to our class of theological students.  Indeed, they seemed to have been taken
almost by surprise.  They had expected nothing of the kind
after the death of President Dwight, who had given occasional
instructions to students in theology; but here was a school
composed of twelve promising young students, regularly taught
at stated times by three accomplished professors, who were de
voted to their work. Nothing equal to it had ever been seen
at Yale before.
There was a good deal of curiosity expressed by the clergy
in regard to this school, both as to the instructions given and
as to the proficiency of the students. At an early period we




9
were given to understand by some of the associations that
they were ready to receive our application for licenses. Somewhere about the year 1860, President Day informed me that
he walked all the way to Woodbridge in order to be present
at the examination of one of tlhe clis.s, before the New Haven
West Association.
After we w ere licensed to preach, we were received with
favor by the ministers and the churches.  Invitations came
in upon us from different quarters to preach as candidates,
even before we were ready to accept them. In one or more
cases the invitation came in advance of the license. After
we were licensed, all the pulpits were opened to us. One of
the class preached his first sermon to the students in the college chapel at the earnest request of Professor Fitch, and
another preached to the students during a summer term in
the absence of Professor Fitch.
Sometime in the year 1822 a Memorial, signed by a portion
or all of the class, was addressed to the corporation of the college, requesting them to establish a Theological Department.
The corporation listened to the " memorial," and appointed
Nathaniel W. Taylor to the chair of Didactic Theology. There
were also certain literary advantages outside of the school and
the college which contributed to the improvement of some or
all of the class. Dr. Benjamin Trumbull, in that period, was
engaged in publishing his;" History of Connecticut," at New
Haven; Dr. Noah Webster was there preparing his great
American Dictionary for the press; Professor Silliman commenced the publication of the American Journal of Science
and Art in the year 1818; the same year the Rev. Thomas
Davies commenced the publication of the Christian Spectator;
in 1820 Cornelius Tuthill began the publication of the Microscope; James A. Hillhouse spent a portion of the time there;
so did James G. Percival, the " walking encyclopedia;" and
Carlos Wilcox, who was sometimes called the " beloved disciple," published there his " Age of Benevolence;" then
there was Nathaniel Chauncey, Henry Dwight, and Mr. Torrey, for a short period afterwards professor at Burlington.
Then there was Eli Whitney, whose invention'introduced a
2




10
new era for the cotton fabrics of the civilized world; and, for
a small portion of the time, Rev. Jedediah Morse and his excellent sons, Samuel Finley Breese, Sidney Edwards, and
Richard.
The medical department of the College was in operation.
Its faculty were Prof. 2Eneas Munson, a man of various acquisitions, and as good a joker as Abraham Lilcoln; Prof.
Nathan Smith, one of nature's gifted sons; Prof. Eli Ives,
learned and high principled; Prof. Knight, whose merit was
equaled only by his modesty.
At the bar there was David Dagget, whose clear and adroit
statements of a case in court sometimes won it before he commenced the argument; Nathan Smith, who successfully addressed the common sense and the common heart of the jury;
Seth P. Staples, learned in the law with his fierce and fiery
logic; Ralph I. Ingersoll, whose "' soul of honor was seated
in a heart of courtesy;" Roger S. Baldwin, endowed with
hereditary talents for the law, a patre et avo, and Dennis Kimberly, who, by his high intellectual and moral qualities, won
all hearts that he approached.
The literary atmosphere of New Haven was genial and invigorating. The educational influence of the community in
which a college is placed, upon the officers and students of
the college, has long been well understood. Thus, in ancient
Oxford, England, there were laws prohibiting any of the students of the university from entering into any house in the
town. It was feared they would be contaminated by contact
with the community. They were expected by their segregation from it, to ascend into a higher plane of learning, religionl, morals, manners, and refinement. It was expected that
the scholars, after they had enjoyed the advantages of a university education, would endeavor to elevate the community.
After a long period, when the people of Oxford had become
elevated by the influence of graduates of the colleges, these
prohibitory laws were abolished, and the undergraduates derived great advantage from all intercourse with families of
cultivation and refinement.
About one hundred years had elapsed since the establishment of the college at New Haven, and one hundred and




11
eighty years since the time that John Davenport, himself an
Oxford student, had led a "' London Company " to settle at
New Haven. Intelligence, courtesy, and refinement of manners, transmitted from the " London Company," had been
increased through the influence of the college, so that the
people of New Haven generally were intelligent, pious, and
refined. There were, moreover, generally in the community,
habits of industry, order, and frugality.
The social atmosphere of New Haven, on the high grounds,
was pure and exhilarating, tempered and made fragrant by
airs from what Bunyan calls "the delectable mountains."
Breathing this atmosphere, with "looks commencing with
the skies," the young theological aspirant could easily send his
thoughts to the region where there is a largior ether, where
there is a higher communion, where there is the city of the
living God, the home of his own soul, and of the souls of all
whom he may in his ministry lead to Jesus.
EDWARD BULL was born in Saybrook, Conn., November 26th,
1791, and died in Cheshire, Conn., April 25th, 1869. He was
fitted for college by his pastor, Rev. Aaron Hovey; graduated
at Yale College in 1816; was teacher in the Grammar School
in New London, Conn. for nearly two years; was tutor in
Yale College five years; was ordained September 29th, 1825,
paster of the Congregational Church in Lebanon, Conn., and
was dismissed in 1837.  The rest of his life was spent in
Cheshire, where he received a few pupils for instructions,
chiefly the children of his friends, who repaid his care by their
proficiency and their friendship. He was an excellent classical and English scholar; was independent in the expression
and formation of his opinions; was constant in his friendships, and much beloved by those who knew him intimately.
Mr. Bull was married about the time of his ordination to Miss
Eliza Ann Hallam, of New Londoin, Conn. She died October,
1872, and left, by her will, $2,000 to found a scholarship for
the Yale Divinity School, to be called the Edward Bull Scholarship.
LYMAN COLEMAN was born in Middlefield, Mass., June 14th,
1796, graduated at Yale College in 1817; was rector of the




12
Grammar School in Hartford, Conn., three years; was tutor
in Yale College four years and a half; was seven years pastor
of the church in Belchertown, Mass.; was Principal of the
Burr Seminary, Vt., five years; subsequently was five years
Principal of the English Department of Phillips Academy in
Andover; studied and traveled a year in Germany; was connected with Amherst College three years; was Professor of
German in the New Jersey College two years; visited Europe
a second time and traveled extensively in Egypt, the Desert
of Sahara, and Palestine; was a Professor of Latin and Greek
in LaFayette College; is still connected with that college.
He is the author of a number of valuable works: " Antiquities of the Christian Church," " The Apostolic and Primitive
Church," 6' Historical Geography of the Bible,"'" Ancient
Christianity," G" Historical Text-Book and Atlas of Biblical
Geography,"" ~ Genealogy of the Lyman family." He has received the degree of D. D.
WILLIAM C. FOWLER was born ini Killingworth (now Clinton), Conn., September 1st, 1793; was fitted for College by
Rev. John Elliot, D. D., of East Guilford (now Madison);
was rector of the Hopkins Grammar School a portion of the
summer term of 1816, also nearly a year in 1817-18; was
tutor in Yale College five years, wanting one term; was ordained pastor of a Congregational Church August 31st, 18255
in Greenfield, Mass.; was eleven years Professor of Chemistry and Natural History in Middlebury College; was five years
Professor of Rhetoric in Amherst College; was a member of
the Massachusetts House of Representatives in 1851, and of
the Senate of Connecticut in 1864; delivered lectures before
the Smithsonian Institute in 1851; traveled in Europe in
1852; was accredited Representative of the United States at
the meeting of the British Scientific Association in Belfast in
1852; is the author of 1" The English Language in its Elements and Forms," and of two abridgements of the same;
"Memorials of the Chaunceys," "1 The Sectional Controversy,"
"' The History of Durham,"'6 Local Law inll Massachusetts
and Connnecticut," Historically considered; Editor "University Edition of Webster's Dictionary," and author of a considerable number of pamphlets, and various articles in period



13
icals, and Sermons. He received the degree of LL. D. Resides in Durham, Conn.
WILLIAM GRAHAM was born in Fayette county, Penn., in
1793; was graduated at Jefferson College in 1816; studied
at Yale College two years, and afterwards at Andover three
years; was settled in the ministry, first at Chillicothe, Ohio,
in 1828; in 1834 or'35 was installed at Oxford, Ohio; in
1847 he was settled over the Presbyterian Church in Woodbury, New Jersey, where he died in 1856; in 1824 he married Miss Jane Ridgely, daughter of Dr. Frederic Ridgely, of
Lexington, Ky., and left a son, Frederic Ridgely Graham, who
graduated at Amherst College in 1847, and who is now a
physician in Chester, Penn.  The following is a copy of the
inscription on his monument, which was erected by his church:
REV. WILLIAM GRAHAM,
who fell asleep in Jesus,
December 18, 1856,
in the 58th year of his age,
the 34th of his ministry,
and the 9th of his pastorate
in the
Presbyterian Church
in Woodbury.
As a preacher
he was earnest and solid:
As a pastor, active and laborious;
judicious in counsel:
of affable manners and warm affections;
faithful to admonish, skilful to console;
an example to his flock.
By their affection,
this stone
is erected to his memory.
"The morning cometh."
EPAPHRAS GOODMAN was born in West Hartford, January
22d, 1790; was graduated at Dartmouth College in 1816;
was ordained pastor in Torringford March 6th, 1822, and was
dismissed January 12th, 1836; was installed over the first
church in Dracut, Mass., June 15th, 1836, and was dismissed
June 7th, 1838; from 1840 to 1850 was editor of the Watchman of the Valley at Cincinnati; in 1851 was editor of the




14
Christian Era for one year, at Chicago; was secretary of the
American Missionary Association. He died at Chicago, June
12th, 1862; aged 72. He appears to have been a very useful
and successful minister.
HoRACE HOOKER was born in Berlin, Connecticut, March,
1793; was graduated at Yale College in 1815; was teacher of
the Hartford Grammar School two years; was tutor at Yale
College five years; was ordained pastor of the Congregational
Church, Watertown, Connecticut in 1822; in 1824 he returned
to Hartford and became editor of the Connecticut Observer, a
religious newspaper, which he conducted with ability for
many years; was secretary of the Connecticut Missionary,
and Home Missionary Societies; was Chaplain of the Retreat
for the Insane; was author of several valuable books; was
appointed by the General Association in Connecticut, together
with Dr. O. E. Daggett, to prepare a psalm book for the
churches of Connecticut, which is still in use. Mr. Hooker
was a clear thinker, and expressed his thoughts in a style
remarkable for its neatness and perspicuity.  He died in
Hartford, December 17th, 1864, aged 71.
SAMUEL B. INGERSOLL was born at Salem, Mass., October
13th, 1785. He became a mariner and commander of a ship
that traded at Archangel, Russia, on the White Sea; was
graduated at Yale College in 1817; was licensed to preach
by the New Haven West Association, May 25th,4'1819; was
married to Susan Whittlesey of New Haven, December, 1819;
was ordained at Shrewsbury Mass., as colleague with the Rev.
Dr. Sumner, June 14th, 1820; and died at Beverly, Mass.,
November 14th, 1820, having preached only one sermon after
his ordination, to the people of his charge. During his last
illness he composed a hymn, breathing a Christian" spirit, of
which this is the first stanza:
" And does affliction press thee down,
And dost thou see thy Father's frown?
Turn not away, but kiss the rod,
Be still and know that I am God."
This hymn can be found in the Christian Spectator, vol. 3,
page 59. He was ulliversally respected as a gentleman and a
christian.  See Memoir.




15
EDWARD HITCHCOCK was born in Deerfield, Mass., May 24th,
1793; died at Amherst, Mass., Feb. 27tli, 1864; received the
degree of A. M. at Yale College in 1818; was Principal of
the Deerfield Academy from 1815-1818; was ordained pastor
of the Congregational Church in Conway, Mass., in 1821; was
professor of Chemistry and Natural History in Amherst College
from 1825-45; was President of Amherst College and professor of Natural Theology and Geology from 1845-54; was
appointed State Geologist of Mass., in 1830, of the first district of New York in 1836, and of Vermont in 1857; in 1850
was commissioned by the State government to examine the
agricultural schools in Europe. His publications are numerous and well known throughout the country. He received the
degree of D. D. and LL. D.
DAVID N. LORD was born in Franklin, Conn.; was graduated at Yale College in 1817; supplied the pulpit in the chapel
at Yale College one summer during the absence of Professor
Fitch; his health failing, he devoted himself to business pursuits in New York city, where he did for several years a large
and successfiul business; was author of "Views in Theology";
for thirteen years conducted a quarterly, entitled The Theological and Literary Journal, New York, a great many of the
articles being written by himself; was author of an able exposition of the "' Revelation of John," and a poetical work
entitled;" Visions of Paradise."  He has in his productions
shown himself a learned, vigorous, and logical writer, earnestly devoted to the defence of Scripture truths. He is now
engaged in the management of a very large estate left him
by his brother, Rufus Lord, the well-known millionaire, of
whose will he is one of the executors.
LEVI SMITH was born in Litchfield County, Conn., in 1790;
was graduated at Yale College in 1818: was ordained as an
evangelist, and labored very successfully as such several years;
he was sometimes called the second Nettleton; was first settled at Wayland, Mass., in the winter of 1828-29, where he
remained four years. Dr. Lyman Beecher having preached
his ordination sermon, was afterwards settled at Kennebunkport, Me., where he remained seven years; subsequently was
settled at South Windsor, Conn., where he remained ten




16
years.  IHe died at South Windsor, Conn., January 15th,
1854. Dr. Bennett Tyler preached his funeral sermon.
STEPHEN D. WARD was born in New Jersey; was nephew
of the Rev. William Dodd, of East Haven; was graduated at
New Jersey College in 1819; was rector of the Hopkins
Grammar School two years 1821-23; completed his theological studies at Andover; his first place of settlement was
Machias, Me., where he was ordained in 1834, and remained
tell years; lie then preached in various places in New Jersey
and Virginia; he was installed over the Congregational
Church at Agawamn, Mass., October 18th, 1853, and died June
11th, 1858, after a pastorate of four years. "He wa's a good
scholar, a sound theologian, and an able preacher."  "He
left a sweet savor among his people, and must have been an
eminently godly man."
JOSEPH D. WICKIIAM was born at Thompson, Coln., April
4th, 1797; in 1800 his parents removed to the city of New
York, where he was brought up; was prepared for college at
a boarding school in Stamford, Conn.; was graduated at
Yale College in 1815; the first year after leaving college lle
was amanuensis for Dr. Dwight; the year following, was rector of the Hopkins Grammar School; then tutor at Yale College for about three years; was licensed to preach by the New
Haven West Association, January 2d, 1821; his first ministerial labors were as a missionary on Long Island; then he
traveled in Western New York in an agency for the Presbyterian branch of the American Education Society; was ordained
at Oxford, Chenango county, N. Y., July 31st, 1823, where
he remained two years; then he removed to Westchester
county, N. Y., where he remained somewhat longer, preaching at New Rochelle and West Farms; in 1828 became a partner in the Washington Institute, and ultimately its sole proprietor and manager; was installed pastor of the Presbyterian
Church at Matteawan in the town of Fishkill, N. Y., November, 1834; was principal of the Burr Seminary, at Manchester, Vt., twenty-five years; he also acted as professor in Middlebury College (of which lie is a trustee) one year during
that period; has received the degree of D. D. His present
residence is Manchester, Vt.




A STATEMENT SUBMITTED TO THE PRUDENTIAL
COMMITTEE, BY THE PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN
YALE COLLEGE.
GENTLEMEN:
Several members of the present Senior Class,
desirous of pursuing their theological studies at this college,
have applied to the professor of divinity to engage in the
business of their instruction, and he begs leave on this occasion, deeply interesting to his feelings, to avail himself of
that provision in the laws of the college, which declares that
he may "receive" from the Prudential Committee "their
advice and direction in all matters relating to the business of
his office."
By the laws, it is made his duty to attend to the instruction
which has been requested- of him in this application. Such
is the construction he has ever given to the clause, which
enacts that " it shall be his duty to give from time to time,
such lectures and private instruction, to the resident graduates
and students, as he shall judge may best preserve and promote the religious interests of the college, and tend most
effectually to form for future usefulness in the work of the
evangelical ministry, such of the students as shall appear
desirous of being prepared for it."  The clause is indeed
worded in accordance with the spirit of the times, in which'theological studies were commenced before the expiration of
the collegiate course, but it contemplates one important design
entertained in calling a professor of divinity to the collegethat of "supplying the churches with a learned, pious, and
orthodox ministry."*
In accordance with this duty of his office, he has given
private lectures, once or twice weekly, ever since his induction
into office, to such theological students as have chosen to
remain here. In doing it, however, he has had to struggle
Pres. Clapp's Hist. Y. C., p. 61.
3




18
with embarrassments which the present application,* if complied with, must greatly enhance, which he will now state to
the committee, and out of which there arises an interesting
practical question on which he solicits their advice.
Hlis chief embarrassment in the discharge of this duty, has
arisen from the present advanced state of theological instruction. He looks back to the state of theological education at
the period in which his office was instituted, when the instructions of a single divine, in systematic theology, formed the
highest standard of such education, and he looks abroad on
its advanced state at the present period when the labors of
two or more instructors are wholly devoted to it, and Scriptural interpretation and sacred eloquence as well as systematic
divinity are comprised in its standard, and he feels embarrassed with the duty of continuing an old establishment that
exhibits to students, under the present raised standard of
education, such comparative disadvantages.  The professor of
languages is willing to afford assistance and all that is necessary in the department of Hebrew criticism.  The professor
of rhetoric and oratory is willing to do somethling in the
department of sacred eloquence; yet the state of his health,
and the pressure of his duties in the classical department,
require him  to leave the main burden unsustained.  The
whole burden therefore of Greek criticism and Scriptural
theology, and of didactic and polemic theology, and the main
burden of sacred eloquence rest upon the professor of divinity,
if any attempt be made, under present circumstances, to give
to theological students the advantages required by the present
standard of education.  He need not say that the burden is
more than lhe can assume.  Accordingly, he is thrown back
still on the embarassmlents of being obligated to continue an
old establishment under its disadvantages.
Another embarrassment arises from  the state of his own
health.  The labors of the Sabbath and of preparations for it
are so exhausting to him, that altogether unaided in these,
he could hardly contribute to this branch of instruction the
labors of a single man.
*A class more numerous than had applied to him for previous years.




19
In these circumstances of embarassment, he has ever felt
himself placed, while he has held the office; and he has felt
at a loss what reply to make to young gentlemen who have
desired to pursue their theological studies here.  To advise
them  to remain, under disadvantages to themselves, was
repugnant to his feelings: to refuse them instruction, seemed
abandoning an important design of his office: and he has
hitherto avoided the decision himself by stating the superior
advantages to be enjoyed elsewhere, and engaging in the instruction of those who, after all, chose to reinain.*
These difficulties are presented afresh to his mind by the
application now brought to him by the seniors; and from
these difficulties he can be freed by nothing short of having
assistance, on the one hand, adequate to place this department of education on a suitable foundation, or else, on the
other hand, of having this important duty disconnected from
his office.
The question which arises on this statement, and. which he
respectfully submits to the Committee, is the following: Shall
exertions be made to add a new professor to the College who shall
take a part in the education of theological students, and the
duties of the Chapel; or, shall the education of students in theology be wholly discarded from the college?
The preceding statement, he conceives unavoidably leads to
the great practical alternative presented in this question,
whether the object of educating theological students shall be
pursued or abandoned in the college; and in this attitude he
chooses to present the subject, without specifying particularly
here, the branches of instruction a new professor, were he introduced, should assume other than such a share in chapel
duties as would afford a necessary relief to the professor of
divinity, were he to engage earnestly in this instruction. The
specification of his duties can be made afterwards.  The
question what shall be done may be raised, when the main
points is decided whether any thing shall be done.
* During this interval, the following persons pursued their Theological studies
here: J. D. Wickham, Edward Bull, William C. Fowler, Edward Hitchcock,
Lyman Coleman, Samuel B. Ingersoll, David N. Lord, H. Hooker, Levi Smith,
C. Whittelsey.




20
The question, it will be perceived, is one of momentous interest to the college, (to mention no other relation which it
bears,) on which its constituted guardians will not act without
serious deliberation, and in submitting it to the Prudential
Committee, he begs leave to append, with modesty, the following considerations which, in his opinion, ought to have an influence on the result to which they come.
I.  The primitive design of the college demands consideration.
More than a century has rolled by since the clergy and pious
laymen in the colony of Connecticut contemplated the establishment of this college. By adverting to the circumstances
of the age, the acts that were passed respecting the college
and its past history, it is apparent that the chief design of
establishing it was, that it should be a school to prepare men
for the ministry of the Gospel.
At that age our ancestors had no idea of the severance of
theological schools from the schools of philosophy. They derived their views from the higher schools of Europe in which
the four branches of philosophy, law, medicine, and theology,
were united, and maintained the sentiments of that age-that
the primary design of the superior schools of learning was to
educate young men for the ministry.* The fathers of New
England have left their sentiments on this subject in sundry
expressions in their early synodical acts.-f The circumstances
of the colonies did not permit of their establishing schools at
the first, comprising all the advantages of the higher schools
of Europe; and out of these exigencies arose the practice of
pursuing theological studies with individual clergymen of
eminence, as well as in the schools supported by the colonies
of Massachusetts and Connecticut.  But most remote was it
from their intentions to erect mere schools of philosophy.
"Christo et ecclesiae" was the dedicatory motto of Harvard,
and the ministers who first concerted the plan of this college
proposed to call it "The School of the Church."t
* Cent. Magdeh., Lib. i., Cap. vii.; Lib. xi., Cap. vii.; Lightfoot's Works, Vol.
2d, p. 80; Stillingfleet's Works, Vol. 3, p. 878; Alsted, Chron. Scholarum.
t President Clap's History of Yale College, page 1.
I Clap's History of Yale College, page 2.




21
The acts which have been passed from the first respecting
this college exhibit this as its primitive design.  When the
charter was granted and the college was organized in 1701,
the trustees gave special directions to the rector "to instruct
and ground the students well in theoretical divinity," in order
"to promote the power and purity of religion, and the best
edification of these New England churches.*  The General Assembly of the colony, in 1753, " recommended a general contribution to be made in all the religious societies in the colony,
for the purpose of settling a professor of divinity in the college," considering " that one principal end proposed in erecting the college was to supply the churches in this colony with
a learned, pious, and orthodox ministry."f In 1756 a professor of divinity was attached to the college, whose duty it
was made in the statutes, not only to be a pastor of the church
and a religious teacher of the pupils, but also, as has already
been explained, to furnish such students in theology as might
be reared in the college or chose to resort to it, with assistance in their studies preparatory to the university.
The history of what has been done in theological education
in the college is in conformity with this design of its founders
and benefactors. Theological instruction has always been
given to the pupils of the college and to students in divinity,
and there has been maintained in the college a strictly theological school. The Rev. Professors Daggett and Wales, and
the Rev. President Dwight, in his capacity of professor of
divinity, have each successively given instruction to students
in theology, and prepared many for the ministerial office, who
have been highly distinguished for their usefulness in the
churches. In 1765 President Clap, speaking of the progress
of the college, says: "' The principal design of the institution
of this college was to educate persons for the work of the
ministry; which design has been so far succeeded as that above
four hundred worthy ministers have received their education
here."  From that date to the present period several times
that number have been added to the catalogue, and out of this
* Clap's History of Yale College, page 11.
t Clap's History of Yale College, page 60.




large number of students who have entered into the ministry,
a great portion have been qualified for their labors by pursuing
their theological studies at this college.
The committee then will take into consideration this primitive design of the college while deliberating on the question
which the professor of divinity now proposes to them; and
may he be permitted respectfully to ask of them  whether,
when acting as guardians over the trusts of our pious ancestors, they can consistently convert a school, held sacred by
them to the purposes of the ministry, into a mere school of
science? Whether, when they have already augmented the
scientific department, and have already annexed a medical
department completely organized, and may yet be called upon
to add the department of law, they shall wholly discard a theological department, so clearly intended by the founders to
be the chief pillar and ornament of the college.
II.  The support of a theological department in the college
interferes not with existing theological institutions.
The friends of religion take a deep interest, as well they
may do, in those theological seminaries which have been recently instituted in our country, and have extended such aid
to the work of preparing men for the ministry. Any measure
undertaken with the design of interfering with the welfare of
these seminaries must meet with the decided disapprobation
of their many and devoted friends. Tile committee then will
consider whether the support of a theological department in
this college, according to the primitive design of its founders,
and on a foundation adequate to the present standard of theological education, would be justly considered, either in design
or in effect, as an interference in the welfare of existing theological seminaries.
Not in design surely; for the design in them, who hold as
trustees the sacred bequests of past generations, would be no
other than that of consulting with fidelity the high interests
committed to their guardianship-a design which they are
bound equally to entertain in their consultations and decisions,
whether any, or however so many, new institutions spring up
around them into existence.




23
Nor in its effect could such a support of a theological department here as is necessary, be justly deemed an interference
with existing theological seminaries. Not an interference in
regard to any claim of precedence in such seminaries, in regard to their students, or in regard to their funds.
Not in regard to any claim of precedence they may have
upon the public patronage, for the department of theology had
long been known here, as the most precious branch of instruction, in the estimation of the founders, before any of these institutions ever had an existence, and it has languished for
want of suitable encouragement while these more recent institutions have been attracting, in an unprecedented degree, the
patronage of the wealthy; and if so ancient a. school of theology, so long languishing for want of necessary support,
should now lift its supplicating voice for aid, no claims of precedence from any quarter could arise to resist its claims.
Not, in regard to the number of students in existing seminaries, would the support of this department be an interference.
For, it is obvious that a maximum number of students may be
assumed, beyond which it is not desirable, either in regard to
study, piety, charity funds, or the interests of the church, that
an individual theological seminary should go, and one of these
seminaries has nearly attained, it will be acknowledged, it is
believed, by the professors themselves, to this maximum. But
it will be perceived, on a statistical view of the'number of
pious students in the colleges of New England, that more than
a maximum are coming forward for existing institutions; and
on reverting to the efforts making by the education societies,
it will be perceived that this overplus must be expected still
to increase; so that without any infringement on the number
of students in existing seminaries, this department may
speedily expect, if supported, a suitable number of pupils.
Nor, finally, will the support of this department interfere
at all with the funds of such institutions. For as to students,
an increase of their number in charity students is but a consumption of their funds, and in other students is but a bare
re-payment of simple expenses; and as to the community,




24
they look to a different portion of it from that on which this
department must chiefly rely.
While the committee then consider the obligations of pursuing the primitive design of the college, the professor of
divinity would beg leave to ask whether they are not encouraged to pursue it by the ability they possess of doing it without interfering at all with those existing seminaries that are
held deservedly in high estimation by the friends of religion?
He would suggest also as another encouraging considerationIII.  The facilities of supporting a theological department in
the college.
For much that is needed for the proper organization of such
a department is already in their possession. They have a
library that is more ample on this department than on any
other, and which might, at little expense, be made adequate
for all the purposes of both the instructors and the pupils.
They have one professor who, by his very office, is devoted to
this department, and have the promise of partial assistance in
it from two others. The whole department seems already
organized to their hands, with the exception of merely an additional instructor; and will they abandon these advantages?
What they have not in possession they may easily obtainthe additional instructor. For so far as the subject has been
broached among the clergy or among laymen, it meets with
that warm reception which promises that solicitations, becomingly urgent, made on private individuals of wealth, or, if
need be, on the community, will be productive of the necessary funds. With adequate funds it can hardly be supposed
but that a man can be found who is suited to fill the station.
IV.  The positive advantages of upholding such a department
of instruction in the college are also to be taken into consideration.
The professor of divinity might suggest the advantages
which the school would afford to its own students arising from
its location, and the benefits it would impart to the church of
Christ, but he omits these topics most deeply interesting, to
hint merely at some of the advantages likely to arise from it




25
to the college, in which they must be supposed to take a lively
interest as the constituted guardians of its welfare.
The complete organization and successful operation of such
a department of education, it is confidently believed, would
exert a most auspicious influence on the college in regard to
the character of its students, its reputation in the community,
and the augmentation of its funds.
The influence must reach the students of the classical department, and be highly auspicious in favor of their order,
morals, and religion. For it would bring the weight of the
character and instructions of a new professor and religious
teacher, and the conversations and examples of a more advanced grade of students, to bear on the minds of the classical students.
The influence of the department too, if successful, (as the
professor of divinity flatters himself it would be,) would be
felt on the reputation of the college in the community. For
much might be done by the students of six or seven years
standing, like those in this department, and their instructors
in connection with them, to exalt the standard of literature in
the college; and the approaches it would make by the full
organization of this department towards the character of a
university, would exalt its reputation in the view both of the
religious and literary part of the community.
The influence of it would, it is presumed, reach also the
funds of the college. The religious and the literary both
would feel stronger motives to send their sons to a college of
increased sanctity and celebrity, and the wealthy of whatever
character would more willingly have their names and donations identified with its reputation, and the poor more readily
connect the silent rivulet of their gifts with the broad tide of
its prosperity.
The guardians of the college then, while taking into deliberation the question now submitted to them by the professor of
divinity, will doubtless look with an impartial eye on the considerations which he has suggested-the primitive design of
the college, the ability of pursuing it without interfering with
4




26
existing institutions, the facilities that are in their possession,
and the advantages likely to accrue to the college —and to
their decision he now cheerfully submits the deeply interesting
question arising out of his statement.
ELEAZAR T. FITCH.
NEW HAVEN, YALE COLLEGE, April 23d, 1822.
A true copy.                     GEORGE E. DAY.
THEOLOGICAL DEPARTMENT OF YALE' COLLEGE, I
December 4th, 1869. 
The following gentlemen were the Prudential Committee
to whom the statement of Prof. Fitch was addressed: viz.,
President Jeremiah Day, Rev. John Elliott, D. D., Rev.
Calvin Chapin, D. D., Hon. David Tomlinson.
WILLIAM C. FOWLER..




THE APPOINTMENT OF NATHANIEL WILLIAM  TAYLOR TO
THE CHAIR OF THE DWIGHT PROFESSORSHIP OF DIDACTIC THEOLOGY IN YALE COLLEGE.
The clergy were always prominent in Connecticut from
1636 down to 1822, the era that I am considering.
After the authorities of Yale College had decided to establish a department for the instruction of a permanent school in
theology, the question came up-who shall fill the place?  In
order to answer that question correctly it was necessary to take
into view the'" form and pressure of the time," and also those
antecedents which had given shape to that form, and force to
that pressure.
The origin of the vital forces that were then at work in the
living present could be found only in the dead past, by looking
at, those antecedents through the period of one hundred and
eighty-four years. In order to learn what were the peculiarities of that great stream of human population in Connecticut,
which in 1822 was hurrying along into the vast future, it is
necessary to follow that stream up to its spring head in 1636.
The mental and moral characteristics of a community are
transmitted through the successive generations, with some
modifications, as are the attributes of blood in a family, cropping out here and there in various strains.
The founders of Connecticut wished to build up a " peculiar"
structure of society for themselves and their posterity. In
order to do this successfully they needed the united wisdom of
all. They needed the wisdom of Hooker-" the light of the
western churches"-and of Stone, both of Hartford, and of
Wareham, of Windsor, and of Davenport, of New Haven-' the ornament of New England " —and of Prudden, of Milford,
and of Whitfield, of Guilford. These men were the most
learned, the most able, and the best men in the two colonies.
They had led their followers across the ocean, and into the
3




28
wilderness, and they were now needed for the higher work of
laying the foundations of civil and religious society. Accordingly they were brought to the front.
In the minds of these Puritan leaders the religious interests,
the civil interests, and the educational interests, were so intertwined with each other that they felt it impossible to legislate
successfully for one class of these interests without legislating
for the other two. They did not complain of the union of
church and state simply in itself considered, but they did
complain of that union so far as the church in England inspired the state to pass and execute bad laws against themselves. If they looked to the Hebrew commonwealth they
found a union of church and state, in which the priests had
their share in the government; if they looked to England they
found there a union of church and state, in whi.ch the sovereign was the head of the church, and the bishops had their
seats in Parliament.
Accordingly when they laid the foundation of the government for the colony on the Connecticut River, and for the
colony on Long Island Sound, they established a union of
church and state, in which it was expected that the church
would inspire the state to pass good laws; and they were not
disappointed. The ruling idea in their minds was, that what
the state could not do for the benefit of itself the church
should do; and what the church could not do for itself the
state should do. Thusthe church and the state were complements of each other, and When united formed a complete
whole.
As all derived great advantages from religious institutions,
so all were taxed for the support of those institutions, on substaintially the same ground that all are now taxed to support
common schools., After the union of the two colonies in 1665,
the legislature gave permission to form new towns and establish new churches; and as a condition it seems to have required that certain allotments of land should be set apart to
the first settled minister of the town, to be held by him in fee




29
simple, and certain other allotments for the support of the
ministry in all future time.
The towns appear to have been co-ordinate with the churches
in the call of the minister, and in the invitation to the council
which was to ordain him. Sometimes, indeed, the towns
seem to have called the minister and invited the council for
his ordination before the church was formed.  When the
churches of Connecticut framed the Saybrook Platform in
1708, the General Assembly, at Hartford, passed an act approving of that platform as a constitution for the churches,
and recommended it for their adoption. When the churches
found themselves in difficulty they applied to the General Assembly to assist them in: the settlement of it.
The clergy generally visited Hartford at the annual election
in May.  Here, in their clerical dress, they marched in a long
procession to the church, where a sermon was preached by one
of their number to the Governor, Lieutenant-Governor, Assistants, and General Assembly.  In this sermon the duties of
the Legislature were carefully and often earnestly set forth.
On these occasions they felt the strong tie of sympathy binding them together as ministers of Christ. And after enjoying the stalled ox and the luscious shad, at the public dinner
provided for them at the expense of the Commonwealth, and
assisting in preparing the nomination of candidates for future
election, they went to their several homes, strengthened in
their desire to do everything for their beloved commonwealth;
and there musing on what they had seen and enjoyed, some
of themn might be ready to exclaim:
"Roll on loved Connecticut, long hast thou ran,
Giving blossoms to nature, and morals to man."
Or christianizing the words of Virgil, to say
"Deus nobis haec otia fecit."
In many of the towns of Connecticut the clergyman was in
a highly respectable and desirable position. After enjoying
the advantages of a liberal education, and after his baptism
by the Holy Ghost, and after taking his ordination vows as a
pastor, his influence among his people was almost unlimited,




30
if his mind belonged to a superior order. Settled for life and
devoted to the best interests of his people, they, in return,
paid him respect, admiration, love.  Besides his annual salary,
if he was not the first minister of the town who received an
allotment of land, he received from the town what was called
a " settlement," namely, a sum of money which would assist
him to purchase a house and land.  This settlement implied
that the contract between him and the town was to continue
during his life, just as a marriage covenant is for life. He
was the most learned man in town, the first gentleman, and
regarded as the best christian;
"The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
The observ'd of all observers!"
If his was a long ministry he could look back upon more
than one generation which he had moulded into form, and
after he h:-id gone to his rest he' would be long remembered as
he was in the pulpit, as he was by the baptismal font, as he
was by the bedside of the sick, as he was by the open grave,
as he was administering consolation in the house of mourning. The sermon preached at his funeral would be printed,
would be often read by weeping eyes, carefully preserved, and
transmitted as an heir-loom in the family.  His influence extended to all his people in all their spiritual and in all their
earthly concerns. If he was not the "Father Confessor," lie
was the "F ather Adviser" of all.
The clergy carefully remembered the words of the New
Testament, " Given to hospitality: and be not forgetful to entertain strangers."  They considered hospitality as a christial
duty.
President Timothy Dwight, before he was settled in Greenfield Hill, Conn., told the committee who were appointed to
agree upon the terms of his settlement, that he must have
enough to support his family and educate his children, and
provide for hos.pitality, and lay up something for old age.
In a pleasant country town'Dr. P., at the annual meeting
of the society, told the people that one reason why he must
have a large salary was the expense of entertaining company;




that he kept as many as five horses a week through the night,
upon an average, during the year. One of his parishioners
rather doubting this statement offered to keep the horses for
a stipulated sum. The minister agreed to it, but upon trial
the parishioner found he had made a bad bargain.
If a minister, or any other gentleman, instead of stopping
at the sign of the tavern should stop at the minister's for hospitality, he was said to "' put up at the sign of the steeple."
Macauley, in his History of England, speaks of the Nonconformists as follows:
" The ablest and most eloquent preachers among them had,
since the Declaration of Indulgence had appeared, been very
agreeably settled in the capital, and in other large towns, and
were now about to enjoy under the sure guarantee of an act
of Parliament, that toleration which, under the Declaration
of Indulgence, had been illicit and precarious.  The situation
of these men was such as the great majority of the divines of
the Established Church might well envy. Few, indeed, of the
parochial clergy were so abundantly supplied with comforts
as the favorite orator of a great assembly of non-conformists
in the city. The voluntary contributions of his wealthy hearers, aldermen and deputies, West India merchants and Turkey merchants, wardens of the company of fish-mongers, and
wardens of the company of goldsmiths, enabled him to become
a land-owner, or a mortgagee.  The best broadcloth from
Blackwell hall, and the best poultry from Leadenhall market,
were frequently left at his door. His influence over his flock
was immense.  Scarcely any member of a congregation of
separatists entered into a partnership, married a daughter, put
a son out as an apprentice, or gave his vote at an election,
without consulting his spiritual guide. On all political alnd
literary questions the minister was the oracle of his own circle. It was popularly remarked, during many years, that an
eminent dissenting minister had only to make his son an attorney, or a physician, that the attorney was sure to have
clients, and the physician to have patients.  While a waitingwoman was generally considered as a helpmeet for a cha;plain




2
in holy orders of the established Church, the widows and
daughters of opulent citizens were supposed to belong in a
peculiar manner to non-conformist pastors. One of the great,
Presbyterian rabbis, therefore, might well doubt whether, in
a worldly view, he should be benefited by a comprehension.
He might, indeed, hold a rectory or a vicarage, when he could
get one; but, in the mean time, lie would be destitute; his
meeting-house would be closed; his congregation would be
dispersed among the parish churches; if a benefice were bestowed on him, it would probably be a slender compensation
for the income which he had lost; nor could he hope to have,
as a minister of the Anglican Church; the authority and
dignity which he had hitherto enjoyed. He would always, by
a large portion of the members of that church, be regarded
as a deserter. I-e might, therefore, on the whole, very naturally wish to be left where he was."-Vol. IIl., page 88.
NOTE. See also, Addison's Spectator, 317. See also, Sir
John Hawkin's Life of Johnson, page 210, as follows:
"' The interest which the dissenting teachers had with the
members of their several congregations, though now but little
known, was formerly very great, and in my memory was such,
that scarcely any member of a separate congregation would
dispose of a daughter, or make a purchase, or advance a sum
of money on a mortgage, without first consulting his pastor."
The condition of the clergymen of Connecticut at the first
settlement of both the primitive and derivative towns, was as
much inferior to that of their non-conformist brethren just
described, as the general condition of New England at that
time, was inferior to that of England. Instead of the "' gorgeous palaces and solemn temples," they lived in humble habitations and worshiped God in meeting-houses of the humblest
pretensions. Instead of the "' finest broad-cloth of Blackwell,"
they were often dressed in home-spun manufactured in their
own families by their wives and daughters. Instead of a bottle of "' Brooks and Ilellier," with which the retired citizen
regaled his minister, Mr. Nisby (John Nesbit), see Spectator




as above, the Connecticut clergyman had to content himself
with small beer until cider became the favorite beverage in
the Commonwealtlh.
It is no wonder that some of them looked to England with
earnest longing:
"' In the primitive towns, at their first settlement, there
were those who looked back, with yearlning hearts, across the
waters to their first home.  Some actually returned thither.
Others wished to do so.  And numbers who left England under
the monitions of conscience, in the spirit of adventure, in the
hot blood of controversy, or in the bad blood of resentment
for injuries, real or threatened, would, in the sun-set and twilight of age, look back with softened hearts and tearful eyes
to the home of their childhood; to the church-yard, where
their parents were sleeping; to the churches and cathedrals
in which they had offered their youthtful devotion.  Methinks
some of those aged pilgrims, in moments of fond recollection,
exclaim,"
" Oh thou Queen,
Thou delegated Deity of earth,
Oh dear, dear England!"
From History of Durham.
But in time things changed for the better.  The general
condition of society became impeoved, and the minister frequently had the best house, and sometimes the best farm in
town.  His family, often a large one, a minister's blessing,
was educated better than the families around him.  His sons
he could sometimes educate at the college, which was his own
Alma Mater.  His daughters were sometimes the belles at
the College Commencements, and the same mnight be said of
them as was said of the daughters of Job: " And in all the
land no women were found so fair as the daughters of Job."
In one important respect their condition was better than
that of their English brethren.  The latter, belonging to the
subject party, had to think and to act under the over-bearing
domination of Church and State. A sense of this inferiority




probably had some influence in lessening freedom of thought
and the highest manhood.
The clergy of Connecticut, on the other hland, belonged to
the dominant party, both in religion and politics. They could
think freely, and speak freely, and act freely, without feeling
the superincumbent pressure of King, Parliament, or Bishops.
The Commonwealth could pass laws which went into operation
without requiring the signature of a Governor appointed by
the Crown. This consciousness of frieedom continuing through
several generations, contributed to form that individualism in
the character of the people of Connecticut, for which they
have been distinguished in comparison even with the people of
some of the States in our own country, who did not enjoy,
as Connecticut did, the full measure of the power of local self
government.
The clergy, also, virtually had the control of the public
schools, and thus educated the children in the rudiments of
learning in good manners and in the principles of religion.
This union of Church and State had its influence in bringing together the leading men of the clergy, (" God sends us
bishops whether we will or no,") and the leading men of the
Commonwealth and their families.  Thus there was a higher
aristocracy in the Commonwealth at large, while in each
town there was a lower aristocracy composed of the minister
and the town authorities, and others.  And as the ministers
were settled for life, and the leading rulers enjoyed long terms
of office, this aristocracy was, in a certain sense, permanent.
In a letter, dated July 24th, 1874, my life-long friend and
teacher, Rev. Dr. Leonard Withington, of Newbury, Mass.,
wrote to me as follows:
"' I often think of East Guilford, (now Madison,) as a perfect
specimen of old Connecticut manners before the Revolution,
which Democrats and Episcopalians joined to make. The
aristocracy of the centre; the population on the outside; the
central influence of the minister, Mr. Elliot; the deacon, the
Squire, the Colonel, who used to meet at his house on Sabbath evenings, when the Sabbath was over according to their




reckoning, and they felt at liberty to discuss politics. Ah!
those scenes are departed never to return. It seemed to me
a beautiful form of society, when voluntary strength was
checked by sober principle, and man was almost as happy as
freedom could make him."
For a considerable period after the settlement of Connecticut the minister's house was the centre of intelligence for the
whole town. He was the best educated man, had the best
library, and was the most hospitable in the entertainment of
strangers. After newspapers Were established in Boston, he
was often the only man in town who took any of them. As
there were no post-offices in those days, private conveyance
furnished the only means for obtaining those papers. As a
considerable trade was carried on between Boston and the
towns on the Connecticut River and the Sound, the papers
were sent by the vessels engaged in this trade. In this way
people could obtain the news which, in these days, we should
esteem stale, it not being received until weeks after publication. Some of the first newspapers published were the " Boston News Letter;" the "New England Courant," edited by
James and Benjamin Franklin; and the " Boston Weekly
Post Boy."
The minister and town authorities were mutually helpers.
When the State received an injury from the violation of the
laws, the minister hastened to the aid of the civil ruler, as
Aaron and Hur upheld the hands of Moses.  When the
Church was in danger from the intrusion of ungodly men,
the civil ruler hastened to the relief of the minister, as Moses
sustained Aaron and the Priesthood against the pretentious
of Korah.
For a long period this union of Church and State, in Connecticut, was productive of the best results.  It would be
difficult in any Chlristian country to find a population more
religious, more church-going, more moral, more happy, than
could be found in the towns of Connecticut; or where the
ministers were more pains-taking, more respected, or more




36
useful. For a long period the people of the Commonwealth
were all or nearly all of one denomination.
But the minor denominations became deeply dissatisfied
with the existing state of things.  They raised the cry of
Toleration so long and loud, that in union with the Democrats in 1817, they elected Oliver Wolcott Governor, in opposition to the candidate of the hitherto dominant party.
The downfall of the "' Standing Order" sent sorrow into many
habitations in the several towns in the State. c' I remember
that time. John P. Brace came up to our house on the day
of the election, and mother asked him how it had gone.'Oh,'
said lhe,' the Democrats have beaten us all to pieces' and a
perfect wail arose." —. B. S.
" I remember seeing father, the day after the election, sitting on one of the old-fashioned rush-bottomed kitchen chairs,
his head drooping on his breast, and his arms hanging down.'Father,' said I,'what are you thinking of?' I-e answered
solemnly, I The Church of God.' "-C. E. 13.-Autobiography
of Lyman Beecher, Vol. I. p. 344.
The adoption of the State Constitution in 1818, in place of the
Charter of Charles II., completed the downfall of the "Standing Order," and the "Federalists."  Tle Democrats and the
minor religious denominations, exulted in this downfall. After
the Convention which framed the Constitution had finished
its work, a leading member of the Convention, Mr. E —
said to Mr. L --, who had thought himself badly used by
a certain Colgregational Church, "6 Now you go right llome
and mount your horse and ride right over the top of the meeting-house."
Thus fell a party representing the union of Church and
State for one hundred and eighty-four years.  It struggled
hard for life, but it fell as gracefully as Coesar under the
wounds of his assassins, muffling his face and falling at the
base of Pompey's statue. They had claimed to be the party
of law and order while they were dominant in the Commonwealth, and now, becoming subjected, they proved the truth of
their profession.  There had been some relentings in the




Convention, and the victorious party did not abuse their newly
acquired power as it was prophesied they would. For a number of years after 1818 the clergy continued to be free from
taxation, and retained their former honorable position in society. The revolution was in 1818 an accomplished fact, but
the old ideas and the old habits of thought continued to prevail for some years afterwards.
The inquiry is sometimes made, how it happened that for a
number of years the Congregational clergy of Connecticut,
and the Democrats, were not upon very good terms.
Before the Revolutionary War, the Charter of King Charles
II., which conferred great privileges on the people of the
Colony, was highly valued by the whole population. But after
the adoption of the Federal Constitution in 1788, this charter
some of the people wished to chaiige for a State Constitution.
The clergy, who enjoyed certain privileges under this charter,
were unwilling that this change should be made. After the
Democratic party was formed in Connecticut, they were in
favor of the change.  The Federalists, on the other hand,
uniting with the clergy, were with them opposed to the change.
There was a good deal that was unreasonlable, said and thought
on both sides.
Not long after 1800, the Rev. Mr. C-, stopped to water
his horse at a small brook not far from Durham. A farmer,
Mr. A   —, drove his ox team  into the brook and said:
"( Good morning, Mr. Minister."  He replied, "Good morninlg, Mr. Democrat."  Mr. C    - then said, " How did you
know I was a minister?"  The other replied, "' By your dress.
And how did you know I was a Democrat?"  "By your address," was the reply.
A very devout Congregational old lady, in Hartford, went
to a neighbor's to ask a favor.  She understood that when the
Democrats came into power, under the new constitution, all
the Bibles were to be taken away, and she wanted her neighbor, one of the Democrats, to keep her Bible for her. "Certainly, my good woman," said he, " if it will do any good;
but if all the Bibles are to be taken away, your book will be




38
no safer in my hands thian in your owln."  "Oh, yes, it will,
sir," she exclaimed, "for nobody will suspect a Democrat of
having a Bible!"
The Democrats and Episcopalians, however, used the power
acquired in 1817-18, with so much wisdom and forbearance
that the Federalists and the clergy could not complain greatly.
The State Constitution whicll they formed proved to be a very
good one, and the Bibles were safe in every household.
Another great work of the clergy of Connecticut, was to
form an ecclesiastical constitution for the churches. From
flhe first settlement, after ecclesiastical questions arose, the
churches were exposed to great difficulties from packed councils, and successive councils, and ex parte councils, and no
councils. The evils of independency and isolation were tried.
Accordingly there were those who were not inclined to remain.
in the "wilderness of Congregationalism," when they might
enter into enclosures which by cultivation they thought they
could make like the Garden of God.
The venerable Thomas Hooker, of Hartford, had said: " We
must agree upon constant meeting of ministers, and settle the
conlsociation of churches, or else we are undone."  The great
Synod of 1662, which met at Boston, had recommended consociation of churches.
Accordingly, under the direction of the Colonial Legislature, a Synod, composed of representatives of the churches of
the several counties of Connecticut, met in Saybrook, Sept.
9th, 1708.
From the council of Hartford county: The Rev. Timothy
Woodbridge, Noadiah Russell, and Stephen Mix; Messenger,
John Haynes, Esq.
From the council of Fairfield county: The Rev. Charles
Chauncey and John Davenport; Messenger,-Dea. Samuel
Hoyt.
From the council of New London county: The Rev. James
Noyes, Thomas Buckingham, Moses Noyes, and John Woodward; Messengers,-Robert Chapman, Dea. William Parker.




From the council of New Haven county: Tile Rev. Samuel
Andrew, James Pierpont, and Samuel Russell.
The Rev. James Noyes and Thomas Buckingham  being
chosen Moderators. The Rev. Stephen Mix and John Woodward being chosen Scribes.
The Synod thus composed formed an ecclesiastical constitution for the Colony, called the SAYBROOK PLATFORM. Tllis
they did so wisely and so well that the Legislature, at its next
session, approved of this platform and recommended it to the
churches of the State for their adoption.
For ain account of the Saybrook Platform, see President
Clapp's Defense of the Doctrines of the New England Churches.
When the Puritans first came to Connecticut they agreed
in doctrine with the thirtv-nine Articles of the Church of England. Thus, in the first of the Seven Articles of the Church
of Leyden, presented to tle Killg by John Robinson and
William Bruster, there is the following:
I. 6 "To ye confession of fayth published in ye name of ye
Church of England, and to every artikell thereof wee do wth
ye reformed churches where we live and also elswher assent.
wholly."
The children of the schools were tauglht the Westminister
Divinies' Catechism,  wlichll they recited every Saturday in the
school-room; before the minister, as school visitor; and also
Saturday evening and Sunday afternlloon, in the family. Such
being the practice throughout the State, to a greater or less
extent, it would seem that there would be no great danger
that the people would become l-eterodox.  There seems to
have been no very great difficulty in respect to doctrinal
points, especially after the Saybrook Platform was adopted.
But after a time there sprang tup what was called "New
Divinity," in distinction from the old forms of belief or "Old
Divinity."  The originators and advocates of "' New Divinity,"
sometimes called, whetlher in compliment or disparagemlent,
" New England Theology," were Jonathan Edwards, the elder;
his pupils, Samuel Hopkins and Joseph Bellamy; Jonathan
Edwards, tlhe younger; Levi Hart, and John Smalley, pupils




40
of Bellamy; Charles Backus, pupil of Levi Hart; and Nath'l
Emmons, pupil of John Smalley.  All of these excepting one,
Jonathan Edwards, the younger, were natives of Connecticut,
and graduates of Yale College; and he resided in Connecticut during twenty-nine years of his life.  Of this theological
constellation, Jonathan Edwards, the elder, was the leading
star.  He was not only the " cynosure of neighboring eyes,"
but also of eyes of' men in another hemisphere, who admired
his powers of reasoning, even when they rejected his doctrine.
These very able men, and their pupils, whom they introduced
into the ministry, inculcated the new doctrines with much
earnestness and success, notwithstanding great opposition in
different places.
On the one side, men who preached " Old Divinity " were
represented as being Arminians, and as inviting their hearers
to feed on the empty llusks of morality.
On the otlher side, men who preached  "' New Divinity,"
were charged with rep-resenting God under the g'uise of an
oriental demon who invited men. to "' sup on horrors."  Besides these differences in their own denomination, tile Congregationalists were, after a time, attacked bly other denominations, Methodists, Episcopalians, and Unitarians.
The following extract will show what were the feelings of
the first mentiolled denomination:  "G To Asbury, afterwards
Bishop, who often traversed New Englald till his death in
1816, the religious life of New England presented an example
of the rigid Hebrew legalism, strangely combined with the
speculative dogmatism of the early Greek Church, but unrelieved by the spiritual mysticism  of the latter, anid nearly
destitute of the vital charity and joyousness of the primitive
faith.  Its distinctive theology he literally detested; it seemed
to him to bind, as in ironi bands, the souls of the people; depressing by its tenets of election and reprobation, with uncomplaining but profound distress, scrupulous, timid, and therefore often the best consciences; inflating the confidence and
plharisaism of the self-reliant, or self-conceited, who assumed
their predestination to heaven; enforcing the morality with



41
out the gracious consolation of religion; and giving to the
recklessly immoral an apology for their lives in their very
demoralization, their lack of' effectual grace,' of an' effectual call.' "-See Stevens' history of Methodism, Vol. III.
Similar charges were brought by the Episcopalians against
the'" distinctive theology," or the doctrines taught by some
of the leading Congregational divines in the Connecticut
churches.
It is remarkable that, during the twenty years previous to
1818, there were two factors in the controversies, the political
and the religious.  After 1818, one of the factors, the political, was dropped out of the controversies, which thus became
purely religious, into which the minor denominations on the
one side, encouraged by their success, were ready to enter;
and the Congregational denomination, on the other side, was
equally ready for the encounter.  Indeed, ill many parts of
the State there seemed to be a kind of guerrilla warfare in
a alnd to hand contest.  As exponents of this warfare, tlhere
were certain controversial sermons published; there was also
published a series of doctrinal tracts. There was also a tract
entitled, "A Serious Call to those who are without the Pale
of the Episcopal Church;" and a reply to this, entitled, "A
Sober Appeal to the Christian Public;" and a reply to the
last, entitled, "4A Candid Appeal."   There was an attack,
about the same time, on the character of Dr. Dwiglit, in
the North Amierican, by the editor, Edward Everett, and a
defence by Mr. Rufus Woodward and Professor Kingsley.
There was a pamphlet issued by Prof. Andrews Norton, of
Harvard College, on "' Tr-ue and False Religion," which was
reviewed in the Christian Spectator, in June, 1822, by Rev.
Matthew Rice Dutton.  An able answer to this review was
written by Prof. Norton.
Thus the Congregationalists, beset before and behind, on
the right hand and on the left, felt deeply the need of a Theological School, in which their young men could be educated
to defend and enforce the truth.
But the Congregationalists were divided, not only in regard




42
to doctrines, but likewise in regard to measures for promoting
religion. They had originally adopted their own measures
and their own means to this end. They relied-first, on the
public preaching of the Word inll the Sanctuary; secondly,
on the example and influence of the members of the Church;
thirdly, on family religion, the daily reading of the Bible in
the family, and family prayers night and morning; fourthly,
on catechetical instruction in the schools, and by the minister.
When about 1740, the eloquent and erratic Whitefield from
England, and the morbid and enthusiastic Davenport, from
Long Island, came preaching in Connecticut, many of the
ministers and the people naturally viewed their coming as an
iltrusion; and when the full effects of their visits appeared,
and the measures adopted by their followers became known,
they were still more disgusted. They felt that the territory
which they inhabited belonged to the people of the Commonwealth by Charter, and by the right acquired by their labors
in reclaiming it from the wilderness.  They were not willing
to have their ecclesiastical domain invaded by religious gypsies and squatters, whether from the Old World or the New.
Those who were in favor of the measures employed were called
" New Lights,' and those who were opposed to those measures
were called "Old Lights."  For a full account of the condition. of things at that time, see " Seasonlable Thoughts on the
State of Religion in New England," by Charles Chauncey,
D. D., and also, "A Plain Narrative;" by Rev. Philemon Robbins; and a " Defense of the Doings of the Consociation and
Association of New Haven county, in the case of Philemon
Robbins."
This division of opinion, in regard to the Great Awakening
of that period, continued to prevail in. Connecticut in regard
to revivals of religion generally, to the means and agents employed and the joint results, whether good or bad.
In the revival in Yale College in 1815, in which I took a
great interest, there was something of the spirit of the " New
Lights."  When President Dwight refused to encourage the
students to be absent from their regular recitations to attend




43
religious meetings, and also refused to multiply those Imeetings, he was accused of being opposed to the revival, and of
being an Arminian.  These charges were repeated after he
had delivered an excellent address to the students from the
following text:' "For the Kingdom of God is not meat and
drink, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Ghost."
These charges seem to have come from lips that had been
touched by a live coal fiom the altar lighted with the strange
fires of the 1" New Lights."
Even in the great revival in New Haven in 1820, objections
were made by clergymen to the course pursued by the lay
preachers, so called. In one of the Associations of Litchfield
county, these objections were strongly expressed by some of
the clergymen, among whom was the excellent John Langdon,
of Bethlehem, the worthy successor of Baekus and Bellamy.
After a speech, made by him, of great earnestness and power,
setting forth the present and prospective evils of lay-preaclling, Dr. Beecllher said to him; " Will you take a walk with
me, Brother Langdon?"
Accordingly he joined arms with him, but instead of going
out the door, he led him in a half circle in the room, and said:
"c Brother Langdon, we commenced our walk in one direction
and closed it in another direction; instead of opposing the laypreachers, lead them."
They were willing to be led. The following is a letter written by Prof. Moses Stuart to Timotlhy Dwight, one of their'
number.
ANDOVER, April 27th, 1821.
1M1y Dear Sir:-Yours, written some time since, was duly
received, and has been read until it is literally worn out.
Soon after receiving it, I communicated the substance of it to
our meeting, on the evening of the general Monthly Concert
of Prayer. This occasioned it to be inquired after and read
by all those persons among us who take peculiar interest in
doing good. This very day, I have lent it, to be read to-morrow evening in the Conference, at Salem, conducted by laymen; and -where, at present, a revival is begun.
5




44
I tllank God that I have lived to see the day, in which
laymen are beginning to feel as if they had something to do,
as well as ministers, in propagating the truths of the gospel.
Thus did they in primitive ages. (See Acts VIII., 1-4.)  It
is a most preposterous tlhing for any man to suppose, that he
is not under obligation to use his powers in the service of the
Clhurch. I bid you God speed with all my heart; and hope
in God, that the spirit which is kindled at New Haven, will
speedily pervade the Christian world.
I have only two cautions to suggest,-and these, I think,
important to the object in question:
1st. Let no one undertake to teach any more than he has
learned. Let him not usurp the place, or claim  the prerogatives of a regularly ordained minister. This caution is necessary to preserve good order.
2d. Guard well against all approaches to mere excitement
of the passions, and appeals to simple natural feelings; ill
other words, against any enthusiasm or extravagance.  Guard
well against a censorious spirit in respect to Christians who
do not at once fall in with our views, and who are afraid of
enthusiasm. While the object is not at all abandoned, they
may be treated with tenderness; and when they see the good
effects of the practice, they will fall in with it. Guard well
against being proud of success; or being disposed to feel elevated, so as to look with disdain on a humble minister whose
labors have not been blessed. The greatest danger of those
whose labors are blessed, is spiritual pride. If this once enter
the sacred enclosure of the church, it will mar the fairest portion. of God's inheritance.
"' These things, if ye observe, ye shall do well."  And observing them-go oil, labor, prosper, esteem the reproaches
of men as nothing; look at the glory of God and the salvation of never-dying souls; and then rouse up to renewed and
still more vigorous action. That the Almighty God may bless
the labors of you and your coadjutors in this glorious work
is, the sincere and fervent prayer of
Yours, sincerely and affectionately,
M. STUART.




45
This letter, wisely written by one in whom they all had
great confidence, was well received by them, and had its appropriate influence.
Considerable opposition was made to the introduction of
conference meetings by the "' New Light " or'" New Divinity"
pastors. As a specimen of the opposition take the following:
A Mr. Nelson, a Baptist clergyman, went to Hartford somewhere about the commencement of the present century, where
there were two or three Baptist families residing.  He was
made welcome in those families and commenced holding
evening meetings, sometimes in one family and sometimes in
the other, to which their neighbors and acquaintances were
invited. Evening meetings were, in Hartford, a new thing,
and there was a good deal of curiosity manifested in regard
to them. The weekly attendance grew to be so large that an
invitation was given to them by Mr. Nelson for a meeting on
the Sabbath, whether at a private house or at some schoolhouse, I do not remember. The attendance grew larger and
larger each Sabbath, until one Sunday, when Dr. Nathan
Strong, the minister of the First Congregational Church, made
an exchange with the minister in East Hartford.  Some of his
people, taking advantage of his absence, attended the meeting
of the young Baptist minister. Dr. Strong, finding how matters stood, called upon Mr. Nelson and invited him to preach
in his church.  This invitation Mr. Nelson declined. "I
did not feel," said he, "qualified to stand up before Dr.
Strong's intelligent congregation. I felt, indeed, that such
an act would ruin my hopes of building up a Baptist congregation in Hartford."  These facts I had from the lips of Mr.
Nelson himself, who spent his last years in Amherst.
Not a great while afterwards Dr. Strong appointed evening
meetings for his own church and congregation.  One Monday
morning, several of the leading men of Hartford happened to
meet at one end of the bridge over the small river, and held
an animated conversation, in which they all agreed in disapproving of these evening meetings on the ground that they
were injurious to family order and family piety. While thus




46
engaged Dr. Strong, came near them, at first unobserved; immediately the conversation was hushed, and the salutations
of the morning offered. One of them  said, -"Dr. Strong,
we have just been talking about you." " And what did you
say?" Then each in order expressed his disapprobation of
these evening meetings, giving his reasons. After they had
concluded, he replied:  " Gentlemen, you don't understand
this matter.  If I was to refuse to have evening meetings,
in three weeks one third of my congregation would be in
Connecticut river.-Good morning, gentlemen."  There was
then silence for a moment, when one of them remarked:" Well, I believe the old fellow understands his own business
better than we do.'2
One reason which operated extensively to produce opposition to conference meetings, was that all impression prevailed
that some of the ministers insisted that the young people
should give up balls and parties and attend these meetings,
thus officiously interfering with the common amusements of
the young people.
It may be added, that many of the leading men in Connecticut and Massachusetts, who still remained Congregationalists, were opposed to the distinctive theology of New England. After the State election in Massachusetts, in 1824,
when William Eustis, a reputed deist, sustained by the Democrats and the Orthodox people, was elected Governor, he was
met one day by Harrison Gray Otis, who was the defeated
candidate of the Federalists and the Unitarians, who said to
him, "Mr. Eustis, it seems you have become a believer in
the doctrines of Calvinism."  tte replied, "I am a believer
in the doctrine of Election."
New Haven has always been one of the great centers of
the religious and social system of Connecticut, which communicates an influence to other towns and receives an influence from them. The history of New Haven is therefore to
some extent the history of other towns, so far as it is an
exponent of them. Here there has been more intelligence to
perceive differences in doctrines and in measures and in forms,




47
more fullness in expressing them, and more care in recording
them.
The ministers of the First Congregational church in New
Haven, namely John Davenport, who came to New Haven
April 18th, 1638, Nicholas Street, James Pierpont, Joseph
Noyes, Chauncey Whittlesey, and James Dana, the latter of
whom was dismissed in the fall of 1805; all of them preached
" Old Divinity " to their congregations.
Rev. Moses Stuart was settled March 5th, 1806, the
period of his ministry being a little less than four years.  He
was graduated at Yale College in 1799, was admitted to the
Bar in Danbury in 1802, and served in the office of tutor
from 1802 to 1804.
He was an eloquent, out-spoken man.  His statements were
so distinct that he was easily understood by his hearers; his
descriptions so vivid that he fixed their attention; his arguments were so condensed that lie gained the conviction of his
hearers; and the force of his will was such that he carried
them' along to his own conclusions and to the course of action
prescribed by him.  During the short period of his ministry,
the church was greatly increased from the fruits of a great
revival.
Still there were those of his church and congregation who
were not satisfied with hlis doctrines or his spirit.  In the
main, his doctrines were those of M" New Divinity "; though
he sometimes enunciated peculiar doctrines of his own, as
for instance, on Baptism.  In the ifervors of his youthllful feelings, lhe was sometimes thought to be hasty in his judgments
and severe in his censures.  Hle once, after he had been a
tutor in the college, said to Dr. Dana, a There is very little
piety in the college.  Of the tutors, one is a Deist, one is an
Arian, one is a Universalist, one is an Orthodox man, and
one is a Christian. "  In early life his mind was like new
wine, effervescing, somewhat turbid and austere.  Later in
life that same mind became clear, strong, and mellow, " like
wine on the lees well refined."
Nathaniel William Taylor was settled over the same Con



48
gregational Church, April 8tlh, 1812, and was dismissed November, 1822.
The Second Congregational church of New Haven was
composed of "' New Light'" members who seceded from Mr.
Noyes' church. They settled a pastor, the Rev. Mr. Bird, in
1751.  This church was called the White Haven Church, and
tlheir place of worship was on the corner of Church and Elm
streets. Mr. Bird was dismissed January 19th, 1768. Jonathan Edwards was settled in 1769, and dismissed May 19th,
1795.
From this seceding church and society which worshiped
in the White Haven church, a secession took place according
to a vote of sixty-eight members, September 4th, 1769. Mr.
Edwards, in common with other "' New Divinity" ministers,
was opposed to the "Half-way Covenant;" these seceding
members of the church were in favor of it; hence the secession. They were constituted a church in June, 1771, with
the name of the Fair Haven church.  Their place of worship
was on the site of the present North Congregational church.
The first settled minister of this church was Mr. Allyn Mather,
who was ordained February 3d, 1773. He died on the 12th
of November, 1784.
November 9th, 1786, Mr. Samuel Austin was ordained as
their minister, and was dismissed January 19th, 1790.
On the 27th of November, 1796, these two churches were
united under the denomination of "6the Church of Christ in
the United Societies of White Haven and Fair Haven. "  In
November, 1798, the Rev. John Gemmil was installed pastor
of the church and society, and was dismissed November, 1801.
Mr. Samuel Merwin was ordained their pastor on the 13th
of February, 1805, and dismissed on the 29th of December,
1831.
The secession from the Rev. Mr. Noyes' church was mainly
a secession of"  New Lights."  It is instructive inasmuch as
it shows the repellency between "New Lights" and "' Old
Lights " in many other places as well as in New Haven. It
was from this repellency that a considerable number of con



49
gregations of separatists, or strict congregationalists, as they
called themselves, were formed, especially in the eastern portion of the Commonwealth. In a printed statement I find
that as late as 1791, there were as many as ten congregations
of separatists. The'" New Lights" gradually faded off into
the common light of day.
The secession. from the White Haven church, then under
the care of Rev. Jonathan Edwards, in order to form the
Fair Haven Church, was a secession of men who adhered to
the practice of baptism of children under what was called the
" Half-way Covenant. "'  For a considerable period the general and perhaps universal practice of tile Congregational
churches of Connecticut was to baptize the children of parents
who themselves had been baptized, and who "s owned the covenant," as it was called; that is the baptismal covenant
made by their parents, though they were not admitted to full
communion and did not partake of the Lord's Supper.
In most of the congregations there were persons of orderly
lives and good conversation who were very anxious to have
their children baptized, though they themselves were not
members of the church in full communion.
This was the condition of things until the 1" New Divinity"
ministers brought in a disturbing force whichl produced great
dissatisfaction. They insisted that only those children should
be baptized whose parents, or one of them, were in full communion with the church. I have heard worthy persons comnplain very bitterly of this change of practice; but in most
cases their numbers were so few that they could not, as in
New Haven, form a new church, and therefore had to submit
to the grievance.  Some of them did go over to the Episcopalians and the Methodists, where the practice in regard to
the baptism of children was supposed to be more liberal.
The experience of these two churches, the Centre and the
North Church, was very different in regard to secessions and
reunion; but the results in each case in 1822, were very much
the same. They were sisters in doctrine, in forms, and in




50
spirit, and they were sisters in the tenderest meaning of the
term.
The Association of New Haven County was divided by vote
May, 1787, into the two associations of New Haven East and
New Haven West. It was then voted to call a meeting of
the consociation to effect a like division ill that body.
Tliere was a tradition that one reason why the division of
the Association took place at that time was doctrinal, and
that the movement for a, division came from those who favored
"New Divinity, " of which Edwards the younger, then a pastor in New HIaven, was the champion, who, with him, would
fall into the Western District or Association.  Some color of
truth is given to this tradition by the circumstance that Dr.
Trumbull of North Haven, a "i New Divinity" man, whose
geographical position was in New Haven East, followed Dr.
Edwards into New Haven West; and Rev. Mr. Foote of
Cheshire, the father of Gov. Foote, an " Old Divinity " man,
whose geographical position was in New Haven West, joined
New Haven East. The Quinnipiac river was the geographical boundary of the New Haven East and the New Haven
West.  See " Contributions to the Ecclesiastical History of
Connecticut, " p. 323.'" Old Divinity" and "' New Divinity;" 6' Old Lighlts " and
"; New Lighlts;"'   Calvinist " and "' Arminianism; " " Stoddardean" and' Edwardean; " 6" Hopkinsianism" and "' Emmonsism;" the" Taste " scheme and the "' Exercise " scheme;' Owning the Covenant" and the "Half-way Covenant;"
were terms in current use in certain religious circles in 1822.
During my ten years residence in New Haven, I never
supposed that the extreme views of " New Divinity, " were
adopted by any considerable number of religious people there.
We have already seen that the Episcopalians, Methodists,
and other denominations gained a great victory over the Congregationalists in 1817-18.  The fruits of that victory were
seen ill the rapid growth of these denominations in New Havenl and elsewhere. The diocese of Connecticut had been in
charge of Bishop Hobart for a number of years, until October




51
27th, 1819, when Dr. Brownell was appointed Bishop.  He
afterwards took up his residence in New Haven for the purpose of giving instruction to the pupils of the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church, which was established there, September 13th, 1820.  The learned Professor
Turner delivered the inaugural address onl that occasion. The
Episcopalians were evidently increasing.
The Methodists, too, somewhere about this time, who had
hitherto worshiped in a small church at the south end of
Temple street, commenced the erectionl of a new edifice on
the northwest corner of the upper green.  That society, and
their leaders, were accused of ambition in thus placing their
church in this conspicuous position.  In reference to this
clilrge, Mr. Thatcher, then the Methodist minister, in New
Haven, was in the habit of praying in the family where he
boarded: " If the building of this church proceeds from unworthy motives, come four-winds from the four-corners of the
earth and demolish it."
Strange to say, in the September gale, after the rafters were
placed and the roof laid, wholly or in part, the winds swept it
off and demolished a considerable portion of the wall. This
house was afterwards completed and occupied by distinguished
preachers of that denomination; among others, by Summerfield, who was followed by crowds.
The growth of these denominations,  made at the expense
of the Congregational, seemed to demand some effort to
strengthen the latter.
Yale College seemed to be an organic part of New Haven,
connected as it was with it in business, history, and social
life.  Wheni a quarter before five, in the morning, in summer,
The clear toned bell
Danced merrily to tell
it was the students' hour of prayer, many families were soon
astir. In their movements in business they seemed to keep
time with the music of the Chapel bell. This was before the
steam fiend shrieked the hours of labor to the operatives.
Many had received their education in the College, and the
6




52
community generally felt a great interest in the College as a
religious and literary institution.  Accordingly when the subject of establishing a department of theology in the College
was brought before the leading inhabitants, they readily subscribed three-quarters of the sum necessary, as a foundation
for a new professorship,-Timothy Dwight, the eldest son of
President Dwight, subscribing five thousand dollars.
Before the appointment of Dr. Taylor it was understood
that the subscribers to this fund, as well as other leading citizens, would be well satisfied with the appointment of Dr. Taylor to fill the chair. As a student in College, as a student in
Theology with Dr. Dwight, as a licentiate, and as a settled
minister, lie had been a resident of the city for something like
eighteen years, so that they had had the best opportunities to
judge of his qualifications for the place.
New Haven Subscribers to the Dwight Professorship:
Jeremiah Day, New Haven,           -         $700.00
B. Silliman,       "            -      -      150.00
J. L. Kingsley,                 -         -  500.00
E. T. Fitch,                    -      -    1,666.66
C. A. Goodrich,    "        -      -          500.00
Timothy Dwight,   "                    -    5,000.00
Wim. Leffingwell,   "       -             - 2,000.00
Anna Townsend,    "             -      -      500.00
Stephen Twining,            -      -      -  250.00
HIull & Townsend,  "            -      -      500.00
Dyer White,        "        -      -          300.00
Sherman Converse, "                    -      500.00
Wmi. H. Elliot,    "        -             -  300.00
John H. Coley,      K               -         100.00
Jehiel Forbes,     "            -      -       50.00
Elihu Sanford,     "                   -       50.00
Titus Street,      "            -         - 1,000.00
David Daggett,          -                     600.00
Harriet Webster Cobb, New Haven,  -       -   50.00
Abraham  Bradley, Jr., and } Real Estate,    1,000.00
James Bradley,                                  00
Sum total,    -             -          $15,716.66




53
Other Subscribers:
Nehemiah Hubbard, Middletown, -       - $1,000.00
H. L. Ellsworth, Hartford,         -      1,000.00
W. W. Ellsworth,    "    -      -      -    800.00
Thos. S. Williams,   "      -      -        500.00
Stephen Van Rensselaer, Albany,  -          500.00
A Lady,        -      -     -      -         90.00
$3,890.00
Smaller sums (a portion of which was from
New Haven,) say       -     -      -     400.00
The noblest work ever done by the Congregational clergymen of Connecticut, was the establishment of Yale College.
For this they should be held in everlasting remembrance. The
first act was dramatic.  Tell ministers had a meeting in Branford, at the house of Mr. Russell, in the year 1700; each of
them in turn deposited on a table a bundle of books and said:
"1 give these books for the founding of a College in this
Colony."  President Abraham Pierson was elected November
11th, 1701.
In that microcosm, a college, there are influences at work
which preserve its identity. This is true, at least of Yale
College, from 1701 to 1822, the era I am considering.  The
several Presidents, namely: Abraham  Pierson, Samuel Andrew, Timothy Cutler, Elisha Williams, Thomas Clap, Naphtall Daggett, and Ezra Stiles, who died in 1795, were all
" Old Divinity men."  Timothy Dwight, his successor, was
appointed President by an " Old Divinity corporation." Sometime about 1820, I was informed by a gentleman connected
with the corporation, and who was as well qualified to express
an opinion as any other, that the majority of the corporation
of Yale College had always been " Old Divinity" men, or as
they were sometimes called by their opposers, Arminians.
The views of Dr. Dwight can be found in his published
works. He satisfied " Old Divinity " men. He was supposed
to be opposed to the extreme views of "' New Divinity " men.
The primary object for the establishment of a College in
Connecticut, was to raise up a learned and pious ministry for




54
the service of the church without the inconvenience and expense of sending young men for their education to another
Colony. Accordingly we find, in the history of the College,
that this object was accomplished. In the first twenty-five
years there were one hundred and seventy-one graduates, of
whom  ninety-five, more than one half, were ministers. In
the next twenty-five years, namely, fiom 1726 to 1751, there
were four hundred and seventy-seven graduates, of whom two
hundred and eleven were ministers.  From 1752 to 1822, the
comparative number of ministers was much less.
The ministers educated in the College naturally retained a
very strong love for their Alma Mater. Maly of them fitted
their sons and other young men for the College.  Many of
them every year, at the commencement, would go to New Haven, as on a pilgrimage, thus keeping alive their affectionate
feelings and tender recollections.  Many of them in their
rural homes would labor in their studies, and on their farms,
wearing homespun provided for them by their wives and their
daughters. One of their number educated five sons at College,
who were all clothed from the wool and the flax manufactured
in the family.
But, on the Sabbath day, and in their visits to the College,
they wore a professional dress suitable to the occasion.-The
beaver-hat, whether cocked or not, the wig or the cue, the
black dress, whether of broadcloth or silk, the bands, the kneebuckles, the slioe-buckles, and sometimes the gold-headed
cane. They joined in the long procession, " calm and beautiful," they listened to the commencement exercises; they partook of the festivities of the dinner, and even the wine which,
in their simplicity, they believed made glad the heart of man,
with happy and exultant feelings.  They went to their several homes reinforced for the performance of the duties of another year by the feeling that they were still a part and parcel
of a noble institution.
One ground of complaint on the part of other denominations
against the Congregational order was, that the latter had entire possession of Yale College; that though the State had




55
aided it, its interests were in the hands of a Corporation, all
of whom were Congregationalists; that the Faculty were required to subscribe to the following test law of the corporation:
" I    - -          being chosen.  of Yale College,
do hereby declare my free assent to the confession of faith
and rules of Ecclesiastical discipline, agreed upon by the
churches in the State of Connecticut, A. D., 1708."
The students, it was said, were placed under congregational
preaching, the professor of divinity who preached to the students every Sabbath was a Congregationalist.  The students
were obliged to obtain permission to attend upon preachers of
their own church.
WVise counsels prevailed. The fundamental law of the State
adopted in 1818, introduced into the Corporation six Senators,
the Governor and Lieut. Governor, as an equivalent for the
six assistants, and the Governor and Lieut. Governor. Students were allowed, upon the application of their parents, to
attend other churches, and a monitor was appointed for the
Episcopal church in New Haven, to secure their attendance.
These changes, removing the ground of complaint against the
College as sectarian, were generally so satisfactory that it was
hoped that there would be no more talk about establishing
another college.
When the subject was agitated, of establishing a distinct department in Yale College for the instruction of a permanent
school in Theology, the jealousies which had been allayed by
the conciliatory course of the College, were revived so that in
six weeks after the establishing of that department and the
appointment of a Professor of Didactic Theology, there was
a preliminary meeting of gentlemen for consultation on the
subject of establishing a new College in the State. In December, 1822, there was another meeting held at the house of
Bishop Brownell, in New Haven, consisting of eighteen clergymen, to take the preliminary steps to obtain a charter. A
memorial was presented to the Legislature at their next ses



56
sion and a Charter was granted on the 16th of May, 1823, to
Washington, now Trinity College.
The Test-law of the Corporation of Yale College, cited above,
was repealed May 7th, 1823.
At the organization of the Andover Theological Seminary
in 1808, the Corporation appointed Rev. Elipllalet Pearson,
D. D., an "Old Divinity" man, one Professor, and Rev.
Leonard Woods, a "'New Divinity" man, who had studied
Thleology with  Rev. Charles Backus, of Somers, Conn.,
another Professor. President Dwight preached the sermon,
when the Rev. Eliphalet Pearson was inaugurated.
Thus they endeavored to satisfy the " Old Divinity" men
of Massachusetts, and elsewhere, and the " New Divinity"
men. In 1822, fourteen years later, the Corporation of Yale
College appointed Nathaniel W. Taylor, D. D., professor of
Didactic Theology, and in so doing they satisfied the " Old
Divinity" men of Connecticut, and the "' New Divinity" men.
Nathaniel William Taylor, the son of Nathaniel Taylor, was
born in New Milford June 23d, 1786, and died in New Haven
March 10th, 1858.
His grandfather, Rev. Nathaniel Taylor, a distinguished
"' Old Divinity " clergyman, was born at Danbury, Conn., Aug.
27th, 1722, was graduated at Yale College in 1745, was settled in New Milford in 1748, was a chaplain at Ticonderoga
in the war of the Revolution, was an efficient member of the
corporation of Yale College for twenty-six years, and died at
New Milford December 9th, 1800, after a successful ministry
of fifty-three years. The celebrated Stanley Griswold, afterwards Judge of the United States Court, was settled as his
colleague in 1790, and continued pastor of the church until
1802.
Nathaniel William Taylor was graduated at Yale College
ill 1807, not long after he became amanuensis to Dr. Dwight
and a pupil in theology under his instruction.  He was
licensed to preach in 1810 by the New Haven West Association, and -was ordained pastor of the first Congregational church
in New Haven April 8th, 1812.  His Ordination Sermon on




57
The Dignity and Excellence of the Gospel, was preached by
Dr. Dwight. He was appointed to the Dwight Professorship
of Didactic Theology in Yale College at the Commencement
1822; was dismissed from his church and congregation November, 1822.
As amanuensis and pupil of President Dwighlt, his mind
was brought in close contact with the mind of tlhat distinguished man, for whom he entertained reverence, admirationl,
and strong personal attachment.  President Dwiglht on his
part felt for his pupil a strong attachment, and entertained
high hopes for his success in tl-e profession which he had
chosen. It is understood that President Dwiglht recommended
him in the highest terms as a suitable candidate for settlement in the Center Church.
Those of his church and congregation who favored " Old
Divinity  and those who favored 1" New Divinity," those who
favored "Old Lightism," and those who favored " New Lightism," all united in giving him  their confidence and support
during the whole of his ministry. He was popular among all
classes, and especially with the young.  Gratior et pulchro
veniens in corpore virtus.
Each youth cried, charming!
Each nymph, divine!
While the North church and the Center church were in
progress of erection, two boys were, at a certain time, discussing the comparative beauty of thle two houses. One said,' We have got a mahogany pulpit in our house (tlle North
church)," and the other boy replied: "~We have a mahogany
preacher in our house."
It was a very significant fact that Dr. Dana, who, after the
settlement of Mr. Stuart, had withdrawn from the pulpit and
house of God, where lhe used to preach, and worshiped in the
College Chapel, under the preaching of President Dwight,
when Mr. Taylor was settled, reappeared in the Center church
and took his seat, at the invitation of the Society, in the puipit with the young minister, and was always well satisfied
witlh his ministrations.




58
During his ministry, the attendance on Sunday at his house
of worship, was large, and the number belonging to the church
was greatly increased. In 1820, his chllrch and the North
church enjoyed a powerful revival of religion. A very interesting account of it is given in the Christian Spectator, Vol.
iii, page 49,-by himself and Mr. Merwin.
Dr. Taylor was settled over the Center church the same
year that I entered College, and he was elected Professor one
year before I left the tutorship. He was in the flower and
flush of his professional life during the ten years that I was
in New Haven.  In stature he was taller than the middle
height, with a frame rather squarely built but well knit, a full
muscular development, but without any tendency to leanness
on the one hand or obesity on the other.  He had a clear
complexion, a bright beaming black eye, black or dark brown
hair, and clear cut features.
He had a strong intellect to grasp truth, a strong heart to
feel it, a strong conscience to apply it to his own soul, and a
strong will to carry it out in practical results.  He had both
personal and moral courage. About the year 1816, a tall,
active, strong man, said to him, G" Were it not for your coat I
would give you a whipping."  Mr. Taylor calmly replied, "I
can take it off."  What he thought true he was not afraid to
speak, what he thought right he was not afraid to do, limited
only by the proprieties of time, place, and persolls.
He was laborious in preparing his sermons. An aged gentleman, greatly respected by Dr. Taylor, told me that he " saw
him one morning writing in his shirt-sleeves, and said to him,
6you are stripped to your work. Sermons, now-a-days, are
not written with the coat off."'" It was pleasant in my morning walks to see him  thus employed, and Mrs. Taylor, with
her broom  in hand, and Mrs. Professor Goodrich, and Mrs.
Professor Ives, and Miss Betsy Whittlesey, all of them  sweeping the door-steps and exchanging the morning salutations
directly across the streets and diagonally, while the young
children were playing or toddling on the side-walk. It was a
beautiful picture of good housewifery, of good neighborhood,
and of domestic felicity.




59
In the first part of 1815, there was a revival of religion in
Yale College, in which William C. Woodbridge, Ward Safford,
and Elias Cornelius, were very active and useful. Near the
close of the revival Mr. Taylor was invited to address the
hopeful converts. Accordingly we met him in one of the
College rooms, and he delivered an excellent address to us
on the Nature of the Christian Life, entirely in harmony with
the teachings of President Dwight on the same subject. We
were all much interested in what he said to us.
One Sabbath morning, at nine o'clock, in 1821, Edward
Beecher, a student, came to my room bringing a request from
Dr. Taylor that I should preach for him that morning as he
was unwell. I felt myself obliged to decline until he told me
the nature of his complaint, when I consented, with some reluctance. Dr. Taylor met me afterwards and thanked me for
my services, and said some kind and encouraging words to me.
At some period after this I invited him to visit our Theological
school, and went with him to the recitation, where he made
some remarks appropriate to the subject under discussion.
After his appointment to the Chair of Didactic Theology,
I had many long conversations with him, always upon elevated topics, generally on Theological subjects.  On one
occasion we were conversing upon the influence of intense
application of the mind in study on the bodily system; when
he remarked that he believed when his mind was engaged in
intense thought, there was a third more blood in his head
than at other times, laughing as he spoke. He dwelt upon
this with a good deal of earnestness, citing many facts. Years
afterwards I went, in company with the celebrated Richard
Owen, the great Naturalist of Great Britain, to visit the
Giant's Causeway. In connection with a case of sea-sickness
he mentioned that there was a much greater quantity of blood
in the head sometimes than at others, and in order to show it,
pursued the same line of argument which Dr. Taylor had followed twenty or thirty years before.
After I left the tutorship, I used, for several years, to see
Dr. Taylor always in my frequent visits to New Haven. His
smile of welcome was delightful.
8




60
In the pulpit his face was bright with intelligence and instinct with emotion. His manner was dignified and self-possessed, as if he was master of the situation. His voice was
deep-toned and impressive.  And often his word, like the
Word of God, was a hammer which, by successive blows, broke
the sinner's heart, and the waters of contrition flowed forth.
In his intercourse with men he showed, that in him there
was a great deal that was human in the best meaning of the
word. The native quality of his soul, the indoles, was of a
high character.
There are men whose eyes are as keen as those of the fabled
Epidaurian Serpent to discover the faults and foibles of other
men. He was not of this class. There are men who use
the weaknesses of others for their own advantage. He was
not of this class. He had no taste nor talent for intrigue;
he left this to others. The native fine qualities of his soul
led him to notice the same qualities in others. The following is one of the letters that I received from him:
NEW HAVEN, November 4th, 1825.
DEAR SIR: —Mr. George Carrington, one of our students,
who has been here two years, I have learned this fall, is willing
to go to Coleraine and see the ground, provided they will employ him a few Sabbaths, with the usual compensation. I suppose you may know something of him. As a writer of theological dissertations he is highly respectable; he has read one
or two of his first sermons to me, which are not wanting in
sensible and useful remark. How he will succeed as a speaker
I cannot tell, though I doubt not he will speak with propriety,
in many respects, if not with force. His extempore powers
in debate are also respectable; he has, I think, a good spirit,
and would engage in the kind of labor you speak of, with diligence and success.
The exhilarating paragraph of your good wife, was peculiarly acceptable; less so, however, than would be the Webster
scream, should it be my good fortune to enter your habitation
with such a salutatory. For this I thought I owed her an




61
entire letter, but I dare not pay the debt in this manner, lest
I should contract another which I should never pay. Let her
however write paragraphs or whole letters, I will never refuse
to acknowledge my obligation.'Mrs. Taylor was gratified to hear of her happiness; nor was
it less gratifying to me in this respect; but there was also the
stir of emotion, and the hearty good laugh-of such inconceivable value to the abstract, sober-looking didactic, I hope
at least for future morsels of the like kind.
I have no doubt that you are right in the opinion that
Unitarianism is on the increase in that part of the country of
which you speak. I have my fears that it is, generally, in
your State, at least so far as it has obtained what may be called
a footing. I do not believe it is sufficiently counteracted by
able discussion. It needs to be kept in sight and followed up,
and when taken hold of, never abandoned, while the people
will read, —unfortunately they will have the last word, and
will keep it going, and in this way they accomplish much. I
greatly wish to keep on, as I have begun, (a word about original sin of course,) but the courage of those who should stand
by me fails, and my own purse still more. I have written
partly an answer to Lords' Pamphlet, as I call it, but probably it will never be published, even if finished.
I like what you say about Theology in relation to the present
times and habits of thinking among our intelligent countrymen.
These times are widely different from those that have preceded them, and whether my thoughts and yours would run in
the same specific channel or not on this subject, I can easily
see what appears to be a highly important, not to say indispensable, field of inquiry. The man, however, who thinks of
a subject is the man to write on it. So, I hope you will go
to work without delay. I would give you some of my thought,
if I had time. I can only say that one thing has struck me
often, viz: that thinking people, of the latitudinarian cast,
are really standing on ground where, in most of our theological discussions, we do not reach them.  President Adams
traveled from New York to Boston lately in company with




62
Rev. Mr. Cox, of the former place.  He gave me a detailed
account of the conversation in which, by the way, they were
occupied during the journey. The President ultimately said,
that it was impossible for God to make a creature who should
be accountable under a law whose penalty should be eternal
death. Now this is way off yonder, where few of our folks
are wont to go. You, I trust, are not reluctant to undertake
a journey of discovery even into this region. We must have
a sound, deep philosophy, and yet it must be common-sensephilosophy, such as all the world can understand if we would
defend orthodox theology. This can be done in my humble
but very considerate opinion. But I am going beyond my
intentions. I would conclude with the assurance that I shall
be as truly happy to hear from you on paper as I have been
viva voce on these topics, —you know I like your cue. It is
the way to do good at this day in one most essential respect.
I am sincerely yours,
N. W. TAYLOR.
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE FUNERAL OF DR. NOAH WEBSTER, MAY 31ST, 1843, BY NATHANIEL W. TAYLOR, D.D.
This is not the time for attempting a full delineation of the
character of the distinguished man, whose death we mourn,
and whose funeral has assembled us. His life and character,
however, are not of ordinary but of peculiar interest, and as
furnishing many useful lessons to the living, are, with propriety,
made the theme of a few brief remarks on the present occasion.
Generally, it may be said, that Dr. Webster has long been
before the public as a man distinguished for great worth and
excellence of character, and for high literary attainments and
valuable literary productions, for true patriotism, and for Christian benevolence. With this comprehensive view of his character before us, as one well known to most of us, and without
attempting to fill up the outline with the detail of those virtues
which constitute it, I shall only advert to some few things




63
which naturally occur as topics of interesting and useful contemplation.
Dr. Webster has lived long, and the character of such a
man derives from this consideration a peculiar interest.  He
was born Oct. 16th, 1758, and died at the advanced age of 84.
He had lived to see successive generations of men pass away.
He had marked the vicissitudes of all human affairs, the
changes in all the departments of life. He lived to see a new
country become, at least in some respects, an old one. He
witnessed the revolution which first gave this country its independence and freedom, the formation of its present government, its subsequent administration, its practical pperations,
and its glorious results.  He witnessed the conflicts, the successes, the defeats, the violence and the crimes of political
parties. He lived to note the revolutions of other nations,
their causes, progress and consequences, to see kings and
princes fall, and others take their thrones, to see peace and
war and war and peace again; he lived to witness the progress
of art and of science, of truth and error, to see the principles
of wisdom and the dreams of visionaries tested, in politics, in
religion, in science, and other things, —in a word, during his
long life, he saw our world, as it were, in all its forms and
phases pass away, and a new world rise around him. Amid
all these changes, himself and character unchanged, he lived
and died the friend of his country, the friend of man, the friend
of God.  Such a character has the aspect of perpetuity, and
derives additional dignity and lustre, the bright impress of
truth and rectitude from a life of four score years. It is the
excellence, the beauty of virtue, unchanged by every cause of
change, made permanent by habit, and venerable by age.
" The hoary head is a crown of glory, being found in the way
of righteousness."
The character of Dr. Webster is one of unusual interest as
one of unusual prominence.  Of the distinguished individuals
of our country, no one, with the exception of the father of his
country, has been more extensively known to its population.
He has been extensively known in various departments of




64
society, but pre-eminently as the instructor in the rudiments
of learning of almost our entire population. In 1783, he commenced the publication of the first, second, and third parts of
a Grammatical Institute of the English language.  These
books, especially the first, have been in constant use in most
of the primary schools of the country, from that time to the
present. And who, born since that time,-what man, woman,
child, through our broad land, has not been taught to read our
language from these books? The proof of the extent to which
the name of Dr. Webster has been known, is in the fact, that,
fourteen millions of his spelling book have been published
and sold since its first publication. In being known as the
author of these books, he has been known also in his general
character.  The vast numbers who have thus known him,
have known him also as the friend of good morals, of virtue,
of religion,-the devoted cultivator of the intellect of his
country,-the man who has done more than any other, not to
say than all others, in what may be called fundamental,
for the elevation, the culture, the refinement of the mind of
this great people, and with this, contributed incalculably to their
moral improvement. While our children have admired and
revered him as the great man,-we have all been children and
know how children f6el,-his character, his example, invited
none to vice, but combined with his lessons, to allure only to
virtue. "A voluntary descent from the dignity of science," said
Dr. Johnson, in his life of Dr. Watts, " is perhaps the hardest lesson that humility can teach."  Who does not revere the
man who comes down from these heights to write books and
systems of instruction for children adapted to their wants and
capacities, from the very dawn of reason through its gradations of progress to maturer years, and while he teaches all
to read, teaches none to sin,-who points to virtue and leads
the way. As such a man, solitary and alone as it were, has
Dr. Webster stood for half a century before this great nation.
The life of Dr. Webster is one of peculiar interest, as one
of great industry. As a student in College, as a volunteer in
the American army, as the instructor of children, as a student




65
of law, politics, general literature, as an author, Dr. Webster
found something to do. During the comparatively short period in which he was employed as the editor of a daily paper
in New York, devoted to the defence of Washington's administration, it is supposed that his writings, including translations from foreign languages, would amount to some twenty
octavo volumes. Without referring to his many other publications which, by their number and their contents, are decisive
of singular industry and untiring application of mind, we need
only reflect on the great work of his life, the American Dictionary. That we may form some just estimate of the labor
employed on this work, we must reflect that since the publication of Johnson's Dictionary —a period of more than seventy
years, scarcely any improvement had been attempted, and to
make even a defining dictionary, adapted to the present state
of the language, was to produce an entirely new work. It
contains 20,000 words, and between 30 to 40,000 definitions,
not to be found in any preceding work. For this purpose, he
had thoroughly to investigate the origin of our language and
its connections with other languages, and actually examined
the vocabularies of twenty of the principal languages of the
world, and made a synopsis of the most important words of
each, arranging them under the same radical letters, translating their significations, with references from one to another,
and thus tracing the affinities real or probable, between these
different languages-the high character of this work, and the
manner in which this character is given it, in the view of
those best qualified to judge, are proofs of the labor bestowed
on it. It is not too much to say, that as an instance of literary
toil, and of unfaltering, persevering industry, it is at least
without a parallel in this country.
It is this part of Dr. Webster's life which says, to the young
men of this country, especially those who engage in literary pursuits, always have something to do, some object to employ the
mind, to call forth its incipient action. If there is any defect in
this class of our young men, which needs to be supplied, it is in
literary pursuits, that want of energy of soul which is requisite




66
to every successful exertion, that habit of activity which applies itself to everything.  Even mental recreation consists
not in mental inaction, but in diversity of mental employment.
Man is not like the soil on which he lives, which exhausts its
powers by production. Activity is an essential attribute of
mind.  Its powers exist only, so to speak, when they are
exercised. It gains new accessions of strength from every
exertion, and the greater the acquisitions it makes, the greater
it is enabled to make. Such a mind is not the turbid brook
formed by a shower, but a living fountain, ever flowing and
ever full. Mental sloth enfeebles the whole intellectual system. It unmans the whole man. A habit of activity by ever
pursuing some great object, something that rouses the mind,
and keeps it always roused to action, qualifies for everything.
Nothing is in vain that rouses the soul-nothing that keeps
this ethereal fire ever alive and glowing. If there is any void
which nature and which God abhors, it is a mental void,
while the pleasure of accomplishing something-the pleasure,
the joy, the mind takes in its own successful action-is its
own rich reward.  Of the truth of these remarks, I have
known few men whose life and character furnish a more striking confirmation than those of Dr. Webster. He began, continued, and ended his life, a life which, in the end, he pronounced to be in full, perpetual, useful occupation.
The life of Dr. Webster is one of peculiar interest as devoted to intellectual acquisition. I need advert to no proofs
of this fact. Few there are, who do not know enough concerning him to know that he was one of those men who sought
for knowledge on all subjects speculative and practical, great
things and small things, God, His works, great and marvellous, his ways just and true, and yet past finding out, —man
in his nature and relations, his condition, his destiny, in this
and other worlds, society, politics, government, law, divinity,language, its meanings, its words, its letters,-diseases, their
causes, their remedies,-agriculture, gardening, the weather,
and of course, that the only approximation toward knowing
all things perfectly, was knowing something about everything.




67
though all cannot devote their life as exclusively even as he
did, to intellectual acquisitions, all may aim at acquisitions
and still further acquisitions in knowledge.  I will not here
dwell on the advantages, the ability, the pleasure of knowledge, nor attempt to show how it expands the mind, exalts
this higher part of our nature in all its faculties, opens innumerable sources of high enjoyment, and qualifies man to fill
happily to himself and to others all the relations of life. The
pleasures of knowledge are without satiety, they enable us to
despise the pleasures of sense as they ought to be despised,
and to feel the superiority of the spiritual and divine part of
our nature, to the material and animal part. They are selfcreated satisfactions, and are heightened by the labor they
cost, the difficulties and obstacles surmounted in successful
pursuit.  He who by intellectual toil overcomes formidable
obstacles, in lighting on some happy discovery, either this of
truth, or by some other high intellectual achievement, which
will bless the world while it lasts, has more than the pleasures
of a thousand brilliant victories. In this respect,-for let itus
estimate things as they are,-our departed frielld and felldw
citizen was a greater and happier man than any Alexander or
Bonaparte, that once tortured the world. I only add, on this
topic, that it is pre-eminently the moral good which results
from knowledge that commends its acquisition.  Who does
not know that by this means the degraded are to be raised,
the immoral to be reformed,-vice, with its infamy and miseries to be prevented; again, who does not know that in this
way the good are to be made better, that even the character
of the Christian is to give forth its light, its lustre, and its
charms. Man, in his intellect, is made in the image of his
God, and why should this feature of the resemblance be marred.
This lesson, this great lesson, this lesson which is so familiar,
should be learned anew, and impressed anew, by the example
of our departed friend.  We who knew him, know what resources lie had, and we know what cheerfulness, what equanimity, serenity, what rich and independent pleasures it
afforded him through his long and happy life.
9




68
Tile life of Dr. Webster is one of peculiar interest, as devoted to objects of utility to others.  On leaving College he
engaged in the inlstruction of a school, an employnient-as it
should be a profession-which, in my opinion, and we may
all enijoy our own, is not inferior in usefilness, and ought not
to be in dignity, to any other except that which is of divine
institution.  With this exception no other has the same benign influence in the promotion of the character of individuals and of' the community.  Dr. Webster was distinguished
as a politician. He was a Judge of one of our courts, and
frequently a member of the Legislatures of Connecticut and
Massachusetts, in which stations his labors were always devoted to the public good. He was extensively employed as a
political writer. Thougli, of necessity, more or less a party
man, he acted not, and wrote not for party purposes, a distinction not so rare in former days, as for his country's good,
in defence of the great principle of Washington, of the revolution, of the lights and remuneration of its army, which
achieved our independence.  It is believed he made the first
distinct proposal through the press for a new constitution of
the United States.  He wrote, by solicitation, an examination
of the leading principles of that constitution. with GOn. Hamnilton, Chancellor Kent, and others, he vindicated the treaty with
Great Britain, made in 1795, and called Jay's Treaty, opposition to which was so violent as for a time to stagger the firmness of Washington, and to threaten us with commotionIs.
These papers were said to have contributed more to allay the
discontent and opposition to that treaty than any others. Hie
wrote sketches of "national policy;" lie warned his country
against the corruptions of the French Revolutions; lie defended General Washington's Proclamation of Neutrality,
contributed thus to allaying the effervescence ill favor of embarking in the wars of revolutionary France. Of the design
and object of his elementary books, and of his greater work,
we need not speak.  What has been accomplished by the
former we all know concerning. What lhas beeni, and will be,
accomplished by the latter, both at home and abroad, there




69
can be but one opinion on the part of those who are qualified
to judge. In his family, and in his intercourse with others,
his life was marked with singular benignity.  He lived preeminently to do good, to promote the true and best interests
of his country and the world.
To you also, my young friends, the world is all before you,
when to act, and what to do.  It still spreads out before you,
as a theater of benevolence, the field for virtue, for self-denying active beneficence to expatiate in, with its sure, delightful
activity in imparting its results to others.  None are so destitute of the gifts of grace, of nature, or of fortune, as to have
no mite to contribute to the well-being of others.  As in the
example now before us, aim  to do good. Let your goodrness
extend to all around you, to society-let it spread over the
land, and over the world, like the light of the morning.  Call
any employment to cheer and bless existence, to briglhten the
face of sadness and sorrow, to wipe away the tears of grief, to
turn the voice of mourning into notes of praise, and to cause
the widow's heart to sing for joy, to open the eyes which prejudice has shut, to instruct the ignorant, to improve tile mind
from  infancy to age, and thus to cultivate the soil on which
the fruits of immortality shall grow,-to chain down the spirit
of party, and to unite all in one great family of love, to reform
a selfish world, to bring it under a spiritual dominion, and
impart to it a principle of eternal life, thus'to cause misery
and war to vanish from  the world like darkness before the
rising sun,-to refresh with showers of blessing this dry and
barren region, where no water is, and to accomplish the beneficent design of the Author of all, by watching, living, acting, and, if need be, dying for the happiness of the world. Is
not the employment God-like —are not its joys divine.
The life of Dr. Webster is one of interest, as answering the
end in some good degree, for which life is given.  1 have
thus spoken of the great object of his lifle, not of the principle
by which he was governed.  He knew, we all know, that here
a fundamental vital distinction must be made. He had learlled,
that though we give all our goods to feed the poor, without




70
love it is nothing-nothing in an high relation as subjects of'
God's dominion, and going to the retributions of eternity. He
fully believed what may be called the Gospel, not merely as a
preceptive, but as a moral and religious system, with its peculiar, its sublime, its awful, its glorious truths. He believed
in the depravity of the heart, and just desert of sin, the tnecessity of a change of heart by the Spirit of God and of pardon
by the atoning blood of Christ.  Nearly forty years since he
publicly professed to embrace this gospel with spiritual silcerity, to become in heart the disciple of the law of God. Oni
this greatest event of his life we have no time to eulogize.
We can say all that need to be said in a few words. He lived,
he died, like a Christian.
His was the religion, not of forms, not of mere external
morality, and yet of this he had more than most men,' not an
impulse, not merely excited emotion, but an habitual internal
principle, which is the only principle the sum and substance
of all religion,-the only preparation of the immortal spirit
for the purity and joys of heaven.  In short, it was, as we believe, that true piety of heart, which loves man, but which
loves God more, and befits one who is to live and act under
His government forever, —for that higher theater, where he
will live and act amid the grandeurs of eternity, in fellowship
with God, as one with Him.  His hope, as was to be expected,
was as an "anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast."  His dying testimony to the excellence of religion and to the power
and grace of his Redeemer, was given in that peaceful serenity
which discrowns death of its terrors, and falls asleep in Jesus.
He met the last enemy, saying, "' I know in whom I have believed," "I have no doubts-no fears."
If ever Christianity appears in its power, it is when it erects
its trophies on the grave-when it takes its disciples from the
grasp of death, the last enemy-and in the dying hour, gives
to them and their surviving friends, its own immortal hopes.
Imperfect as is human character, still by the eye of faith, and
in the light of their own Christian example, we trace our departed friends to another world. They leave us, their days




71
of trial are over. They have entered into rest.  Sheltered
now from the storms of life, the dangers of sin and temptations, they repose in the haven of everlasting peace.  Their
separation from us is not final, the pious dead and the pious
living are one family, and shall meet again. The friendships
that have religion for their basis, shall survive the changes of
earth and time,-for they are friendships of God and His holy
kingdom. Let our sorrows then be cheered with hope,-for
death is destroyed,-" For, if we believe that Jesus died and
rose again, even so them that sleep in Jesus will God bring
with Him. For tlhe Lord Himself will descend from Heaven
with a shout, with the Archangel's voice, and the trumpet of
God,-then we, which are alive and shall remain, shall be
caught up together with Him in the clouds, to meet the Lord
in the air, and so shall be ever with the Lord.
"' Wherefore comfort one another with these words."




72
REPORT ON  AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT.
At a meeting of the General Association of Connecticut,
at Bridgeport, in June, 1861, the following Preamble and
Resolution was offered by a committee composed of Rev.
WnVLLIAM C. FOWLER, Rev. E. L. CLEAVELAND, D.D., and the
Rev. MYRON N. MORRIS, to wit:Whereas, GOD, in His providence, has dealt most kindly
with the churches of this Commonwealth, carefully sustaining, until now, the vine which He at first transplanted; thus
manifesting His faithfulness to His friends in acts that ought
to be recorded for the reverential admiration of future generations; and
Whereas, The FATHERS of this Commonwealth, through
many generations, have manifested the power of Christian
faith in their obedience to the truth as it is in Jesus; thus
proving themselves worthy to be held in everlasting remembrance; aind
Whereas, Our form of ecclesiastical polity has certain distinctive features whichl ought to be understood and appreciated by all the sons and daughters of Connecticut; and
Whereas, In the general history of New England, and in the
particular history of this State, and in the histories of many
towns, and churches, and ind'ividuals, and in the records of
Consociations and Associations, there are abundant materials
for preparing an appropriate memorial of what God has
wrought in the years of His right hand, and what man has
wrought, under God, in bringing the population of Connecticut to its present high civilization; therefore,
Resolved, That this Association would view with great




73
favor a well considered and well executed History of' Connlecticut.
This resolution was passed unanimously, and the subject
was referred back to the same committee, to be reported on
at some future meeting.
And here your committee would beg leave to say, that all
which they aimed at was accomplished by the adoption of
this resolution, which presented the subject for the consideration of the churches and of those authors who have taste and
talent and leisure for the composition of such a work.
But inasmuch as the Association saw fit to keep the subject
alive before the churches by this reference, your committee
would subjoin the following additional report for acceptance:
And first, thenl, a well considered and well executed Ecclesiastical History of Connecticut would embrace the fbrmns of
chulrch government, especially of the leading denominationl.
Among the Puritan emigrants who came to Massachusetts
in the early part of the seventeenth century, was one class
called Non-conformists, who cherished an attachment to the
Church of Englanld, though in certain externals they would
not adopt hler forms and ceremonies. There was another class
called Separatists, who, besides rejecting the forms of worship, abhorred both the Episcopal and Presbyterian churches.
They regarded each local and religious society as a separated
and independent church, and not accountable to alny Bishop
or Presbytery.  HIGGINSON, a Non-conformist, but not a
Separatist, in 1629, on taking his last look of his native land
from the stern of his ship, exclaimed:  " We will not say,
as the Separatists were wont to say at their leaving England,' Farewell, Babylon! farewell, Rome!' but we will say, farewell, dear England! farewell, the church oft' God in England,
and all the Christian friends there! We do not go to New
England as Separatists from  the Church of England."YOUNG'S C6hronicles, page 398.
The two colonies, namely, the New Haven and the Colnnlecticut, had a generic agreement in this respect, but they
also had specific differences.  Can these specific differences




74
be traced to the specific differences between the two colonies,
Plymouth and Massachusetts?-or must they be traced for
their parentage to the mother country, namely, to the differences between the Separatists and the Non-conformists there?
And after the two colonies in Connecticut became one, and
the two colonies in Massachusetts became one, these two
colonies thus formed have had distinctive features of churcl
government down to the present time; though as members
of the same ecclesiastical family they strongly resemble each
other.
Connecticut was settled after Massachusetts, and the fathers of the colony, therefore, could avoid the errors and adopt
what was good in the civil and ecclesiastical polity of Massachllusetts.  JOHN COTTON, the personal friend of THOMAS
HOOKER and JOHN DAVENPORT, had become disgusted, somewlhat, with certain democratieal tendencies.  Governor WIN-'THROP wrote a letter to those " who had removed to Conmiecticut,, who were about forming their government, warning them
of the danger of referring matters of judicature to the body
of' the people," in these words:  "The best part of a colmmunity is always the least, and of that best part the wiser is
still less; wherefore the old canon was,'choose ye out judges,
and thou shalt bring the matter before the judge.'"  RICHARD
SALTONSTALL was one of the patentees of Connecticut, with
Lords SAY and SEAL and BROOK, and was a principal associate in the settlement of the colony.  He addressed a letter to
some friends in Massachusetts on the subject of the bigotry
and persecution in that State.  in it he says, " It doth not a
little grieve my spirit to hear what sad things are r'eported
daily of your doings, as that you fine and whip and imprison
men for their consciences."
With such facts in view, we need not be surprised that
THOMAS HOOKER, of Hartford, "the light of' the Western
churches," and "' the rich pearl which Europe gave to America," should, instead of leaning to Separatism and Independency, be " a hearty friend unto the consociation of churches,"
and that he should make the declaration, "We must agree




75
upon constant meeting of ministers, and settle the consoeciation
of churches, or else we are undone."  We need not be surprised that  "he would lhave nothing publicly propounded unto
the brethren of the church but what had been first privately
prepared by the elders."' We need not be surprised that
SAMUEL STONE, the teacher of the church in Hartford of
which Hooker was pastor, and afterward the successor of
Hooker, should define Congregationalism  as  " a speaking
aristocracy in the face of a silent democracy."
Connecticut more than Massachusetts inclined to a stable,
regular, representative clurch government.  Besides having
in some churches ruling elders or teaching elders, or seven
pillars, Connecticut more than one hundred and fifty years
ago established the CONSOCIATION OF CHURCHES, each Consociation being expected to keep 2ermtanent records of its own
doings for future inspection, in cases of ordination or dismission of ministers or of discipline.  Thus in Connecticut the
ecclesiastical government has conformed somewhat more to
the civil government than in Massachusetts.  It is not arbitrary and discretionary, but representative and constitutional.
In the civil government representatives are chosen, and delegated rather than original powers are employed, and continuous records kept by an officer statedly appointed.  There
is a near approach to this in the organization and functions
of Consociations.  Connecticut has a written ecclesiastical
constitution for the Congregational denomination, just as it
has a written civil constitution for all the inhabitants.  The
reasons for adopting the one were similar to those for adopting the other.
It is true that all the Congregationat churches in the State
are not consociated under this constitution.  It might be
profitable to investigate the historical reasons why they are
not.  It might be instructive to investigate the causes why
certain churches in Connecticut, which were once inside of
that constitution, are now outside of it.  In other words, it
might be useful to learn what were the grounds and reason
of their secession; whether those reasons were the excessive
10




76
love of liberty; or an unwillingness to submit themselves to
censure, when to blame; or an unwise self-esteem, which led
them  to measure themselves by themselves and commend
themselves among themselves; or the influence of demagogues, who are apt to make light of constitutions, whether
political or ecclesiastical, as interfering with their own
schemes; or some better reasons.
Again, what were the relations of Connecticut to the several Synods anciently convened in Massachusetts?  These
Synods appear to have grown out of the conscious weakness
of independency, or out of certain movements of Presbyterian
Puritans who were disgusted with that weakness.  The one
convened in Boston in 1662 recommended the consociation of
churches.  What are the historical reasons why Connecticut
adopted the consociation of churches and Massachusetts did
not?
One or more of the Synods recommended the baptism  of
children under what was called the half-way covenant. Under
that practice, for many years there was a strong desire on the
part of those who were in full covenant to offer up their children in baptism.  That practice ceased.  What relation does
the cessation of that practice bear to the present great neglect
of that beautiful and impressive ordinlance?  Why do the
Episcopalians perform the duty of offering up their children
in baptism more faithfully than Congregationalists?
Whly did Connecticut more largely than Massachusetts
become Episcopalian?  Why did Massachusetts become Unitarian, and Rhode Island become Baptist, more largely than
Connecticut?  What causes conspired to produce the secession of the Separatists or strict Congregationalists?  What
were the origin and progress of other Chlristian denominations in the State? As compared with other denominations,
is Congregationalism as strong as formerly?  What relation
do the churches and ministers of Connecticut, at the present
time, sustain to Presbyterianism, compared with what ministers and churches in Connecticut sustained to it when the
heads of?qreement by the united ministers, formerly called




77
Presbyterian and Congregational, were assented to in 1708?
-or what they sustained to it when the 4" plan of union"  was
adopted by the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church,
and by the General Association of Connecticut?-or when
President Stiles, and President Dwight, and Dr. Strong of
Hartford, spoke of the churches of Connecticut as Presbyterian churches?  In the instructions given by His Majesty,
the King of Great Britain, to certain commissioners that
were directed to visit Connecticut in April, 1664, it is declared, G" We conceive those of Connecticut to contrive themselves under the most rigid Presbyterian government."  Is
Connecticut more Presbyterian, or less so, than formerly?
Secondly, a well considered and well executed Ecclesiastical
History of Connecticut would embrace the doctrinal opinions
and the correspondent conduct which has prevailed in the
successive eras.  Under this particular, it would be seen that;
our beloved Commonwealth, in comparison with any other
New England State, is worthy of praise for orthodoxy and
moderation in opposition to extreme views. If there are
those who are accustomed to think of Massachusetts as the
venerable Mother State of Connecticut, we can say to them,
with the most kindly feelings towards that ancient and excellent Commnonwealth, pulcerior filia, pulcmhra mnatre.
Thirdly, a well considered and well executed Ecclesiastical
History of Connecticut would embrace the several controversies, both external and internal,  which have agitated the
Congregational denomination fromn time to time.
Fourthly, a well considered and well executed Ecclesiastical
History of Connecticut would embrace the results of the system and usages of Congregationalism, namely, the inner life
of piety, and the external manifestation in worship and in
morals; the revivals in the churches; the labors, the influence,
and respectability of the clergy; the schools and the colleges;
the Sabbath schools and domestic missions; the orderly habits and Christian courtesies in social intercourse; those virtues and graces that have prevailed in private and public life,
which make men but little lower than the angels; the transmaitted influences which make us what we are to-day.




78
Connecticut has her historic institutions and her own individuality; should not those institutions be distinctly described,
and that individuality be faithfully portrayed by some of her
admiring sons?  Is it enough to have them faintly pictured
in the background of a History of the United States, or of
New England, or of Massachusetts?  Is it enough that she
should be placed in the constellation of American States?or even ill the New England pleiades?-or as a satellite of
Massachusetts?  Is she not herself "a bright particular star,"
to be gazed at as she moves on in her orbit?
Nor are materials and helps wanting for preparing an
Ecclesiastical History of Connecticut.  The several historical
societies in, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhllode Island, and
elsewhere, have not only inspired a taste for historical studies,
but have collected large stores of historical helps.  Among
the books which furnish valuable materials, two especially
should be mentioned.  One of these was prepared under the
direction of the General Association, and is entitled, " C(ontributions to the  Ecclesiastical History of Connecticut."  This
does great credit to the Association in the facts which it contains and in the spirit which it breathes.  The other, namely,
TRUMBULL'S History of C(onnecticut, has everything to recommend it to our confidence, so far as the honesty and industry
of the author are concerned. It should, however, be remembered that he prepared the work under great disadvantages.
I-e had been invited by the General Association. to write a
"' History of the United States."  While he was engaged in
this work, he turned aside to write a History of Connecticut,
as a kind of experimental effort.  The following are his
words:'" Had the history been written more leisurely and
with fewer avocations, it might have been more perfect; but
as it was desirable to make as short a pause as possible in
writing the 6 History of the United States,' it was judged inexpedient to employ more time upon it.  The author is under
great disadvantages for historic writing.  He can command
no time for himself.  The work of the ministry, which is his
chosen and beloved employment, after all his application, so




79
engrosses his time, that sometimes for weeks and months lie
cannot find a single day for the composition of history.
When lie has attempted it, he has been able scarcely to write
a single page without interruption.  Often has he been so
fatigued with other studies as to be in circumstances not the
most favorable for composition."
He also remarks, I' that about the middle of December,
1796, he began to look over and arrange his papers and compile the following history."  The first volume was published
in 1797, so that he could have spent but a year in arranging
and presenting that part of his work.  It need not, therefore,
seem strange that it should bear evident marks of haste, of
deficiency of materials, and crudeness in their composition.
It should be added that when the whole work was given to
the public in 1818, it was objected to on the ground that the
civil history is mingled with the ecclesiastical, when they
ought to have been published in separate volumes. Indeed,
the author himself remarks, "' It will be observed that the
eccelessiastical part of the history is kept by itself in distinct
chapters, and comprises about a third part of the history.  It
would make a volume by itself, and might be printed separately, without derangement of the narration."
It should also be stated that Trumbull's History is out of
print. It took one of your committee two years to obtain a
complete copy, at the price of eight dollars, though he sought
for it in the principal cities. Nor is there a probability that
it will soon be republished.  HOLLISTER'S would come in
competition with it.
Moreover, TRUMBULL'S History, in the ecclesiastical part of
it, comes down only to 1760, so that there are now one hundred and four years not covered by it which require illustration.  Evidently, then, from these considerations, it is not
adequate to the supply of our wants, as an ecclesiastical
history.
There are three divinity schools in the State; ought not
the students in these schools to be able to take into their
hands a volume which will furnish them with a continuous




80
and connected statement of ecclesiastical affairs in this Commonwealth for the last hundred years? There are three
religious colleges in the State; cannot the same question be
asked in regard to the students in them, though, perhaps,
with less emphasis?  There are several hundred Christian
ministers in the State; do they not feel the want of such a
book? Are there not many thousand intelligent Christians
in this State, and elsewhere, who would welcome it?
If such a work should be extensively read, would not its
influence be to render men more inclined to substitute the
inductions of the past for the dreams of the present, to
repress the overweening self-conceit which leads to a removal
of ancient landmarks?  Would it not help " to correct that
cold selfishness which would regard our day and our genera-,
tion as a separate and insulated portion of man and time;
and awakening our sympathies with those who have gone
before, make us mindful also of those who are to follow, and
thus bind us to our fathers and to our posterity by a lengthening and golden cord"?  Would it not help to raise some
minds, which live only in the present, up to the full dignity of
marian, able to look before and after"?
The General Association has already taken more than one
step in the right direction.  It has appointed a Statistical
Secretary, who has collected valuable materials which are the
pledge and earnest of future stores for the muse of history.
It has patronized the "I Congregational Quarterly," wblich is
replete with historical facts and associations. It has had a
historical commemoration at Norwich, and published a volume
which does honor to itself, and contains important contributions to the religious history of the State.  Will it not proceed to encourage still further a well considered and well executed Ecclesiastical History of Connecticut?
In behalf of the committee,
WILLIAM C. FOWLER.




81
INGLISSH  UNIVERSITIES.
(From thle Theoloqical and Literary Journal, Vols. V. and VL.)
THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD is a corporate body, known by
the title of "G The Chancellor, Masters, and Scholars, of the
University of Oxford."  It possesses the power of conferring
degrees which are necessary to the attainment of many of the
places of honor and emolument  It is one of the principal
avenues to the ministry of the Episcopal church.  It takes
part in the legislation of the country through its representatives in parliament.  It is possessed of immense wealth, has
a large patronage, and, in its press, has a large interest in
a valuable monopoly.
It seems to be generally admitted that this institution does
not meet the wants of the British nation at the present time,
and that in its constitution and laws, and course of study, it
belongs to a by-gone age. It seems to be admitted also that
it ought to be so modified that it shall be not only what it
has claimed to be, ", one of the eyes of England," but also
that it shall speak what it knows to the British nation and to
the world.
The question, therefore, has naturally been raised, where
does the power to reform it lie? Does it lie with.the Queen,
with the advice of her ministers; or with Parliament; or with
the University; or with the particular Colleges?  There are
evidently great difficulties in making any radical changes.
But of this more presently.
Oxford University is composed of nineteen colleges and five
halls.
University College, said to be founded or restored by King
Alfred in A. D. 872.  In 1851 the number of undergraduates




82
and commoners was 60, and about 55 reside within the walls.
There are now twelve Fellows recognized by the statutes with
equal privileges and emoluments.  The Fellowships are worth
about 1901. a year.  The Mastership is said to be worth about
6001. a year.  The number of tutors, assistant-tutors, and
lecturers, was five.  About fifty lectures were given weekly.
The average amount of battels, provisions taken from the
buttery, in 1847, was 1031.
The course of studies for candidates for Honors, included
Thucydides, Herodotus, Livy, Tacitus, Aristotle's Ethics,
Rhetoric, Politics, and Organon, Homer, 2Eschylus and Aristophanes, Juvenal, general Lectures on Greek and Roman
History, and, occasionally, on Modern History.  That prescribed for candidates for an ordinary degree, included Sophocles, Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato's Ph~ado, Virgil, Livy,
Cicero's Tusculan Disputations, and Sallust.  There were
also lectures for all the undergraduates on the Old Testament,
the Gospels, the Acts, the xxxix Articles, and, occasionally,
onil the Epistles.
Balliol College, founded about the year 1262. The number of undergraduates in 1851 was 80: the total number
of scholars was 334. The total revenue of the college was
5,8961. 9s. 11d.  This college enjoys the singular privilege of
electing its own visitor.  The total income of the Master or
Head of the College is about 8001. a year.  There are ten
Fellows.  A Fellowship is worth about 2201. a year.
Merton College, founded in 1270. It consists of a Warden
and 24 Fellows, and two Chaplains.  In 1851 there were 35
undergraduates.  The Visitor is the Archbishop of Canterbury.  The annual income of the College is 7,2201. The
present emoluments of the Warden, in money, are 1,0501. a
year. The Fellows are elected by the Warden and thirteen
Fellows.
Exeter College, founded in the year 1315.  The corporation
consists of a Rector and 25 Fellows.  The number of undergraduates in 1851 was 133. This college educates one-twelfth
part of the undergraduates.




83
Oriel College, founded in 1324. There are 18 Fellows who
receive 2001., and 21 Scholarships. The number of undergraduates in 1851 was 87.
Queen's College, founded in 1340. The officers are a Provost, who receives 1,0001.; and 16 Fellows, who receive 3001.
annually. The number of commoners in 1851 was 51.
New College, founded in 1379, by William  of Wykehaln. He
bound all the members by an oath to observe his statutes, and
a all and singular the things therein contained, according to the
plain, literal, and grammatical sense."  The Fellows are 10
in number; the unldergraduates were 8. The college presents
to 37 benefices.
Lincoln College, founded in 1427. There are a Rector, 12
Fellows, and 9 Scholars. In 1851 there were 40 commoners.
All Souls' College, founded in 1438. There were to be 40
Fellows. Of these 24 were to study the Arts, or Philosophy,
or Theology; and 16 the Canon or Civil Law.
Magdalen College.  (Pages wanting in the Report.)  It
was founded in 1459 by William Womfleet, Bishop of Winchester.
Brasenose College.  (Pages wapting.)  It was founded in
1515, by William Smyth, Bishop of Lincoln.
Corpus Christi College, founded in 1506. The number of
Fellows is still 20. The number of undergraduates 6 or 7.
The Head of the College receives 1,0001., and the Fellows
2001. The income of the College is 8,5001.
Christ-Church College, founded in 1526. It is governed
by a Dean and eight Canons. The students are 101 in nuimber. Forty-one juniors receive 251.; 40 receive rather more
than 301.; and the senior twenty 451. The number of undergraduates in 1850 was about 190.
Trinity College, founded in 1554. There are now twelve
Fellows and thirteen Scholars. In 1851' the number of colmmoners was 67.  There are 10 benefices in the gift of the
College.
St. John's College, founded in 1555. In 1851 there were
63 undergraduates, of whom  54 were commoners. Thirty
benefices are in the gift of the College.
1-1




84
Jesus College, founded in 1571.  The number of Fellows
is now 19; the number of Scholars 18. In 1851 there were
40 undergraduate commoners.  The battels, including tuition
and all college dues, range between 501. and 801.
Wadham  College, founded in 1610.  There are fifteen
Fellowships and fifteen Scholarships.  In 1851 there were 84
undergraduates.
Pembroke College, founded in 1629.  The total number of
undergraduates in 1851 was 73.  There are fourteen Fellowships and fourteen Scholarships.
Worcester College, founded in 1714.  The number of Fellows is 21o  The number of Scholars is 16.  In 1851 there
were 28 undergraduate commoners; 8 undergraduate Fellowcommoners. There are four tutors.  There are nine benefices
in the gift of the College.
There are five Halls, which differ from  colleges in that
they have no charter, are not incorporated societies, are subject to statutes framed by the University, and have no endowments except their buildings, with a few Scholarships and
exhibitions, which are held in trust by persons not necessarily
connected with the Halls.  In academical matters they, however, enjoy the same privileges nearly as the Colleges.  They
are allowed to receive undergraduates, and their emoluments
are almost wholly derived from  this source.  The principals
are, indeed, subject to the authority of the Hebdomadal Board,
like the Heads of Colleges.  The present Halls are1. St. Mary's Hall, which, in 1851, had 52 undergraduates.
2. Magdalene Hall, which, in 1851, had 108 undergraduates.
3. New Inn Hall, which, in 1851, had 33 undergraduates.
4. St. Alban Hall, whicl, in 1851, had 7 undergraduates.
5. St. Edmund Hall, which, in 1851, had 23 undergraduates.
The Administration of the University was anciently in the
hands of —
I. T7he Hoouse of Congrecgation. This was the real representative of the primeval Legislature of the literary republic




85
of Oxford.  The Legislature of' the University in early times
consisted of one house only, in which all the masters and
teachers had a seat, called "' the Congregation."  The House
was summoned by tlhe sound of a bell, andl  iet frequently.
It confers all ordinary degrees which are now in form, what
they were once in fact, licenses to teach.
II.  The Iouse of Convocation.  This was composed of all
whlo had attained a certain academical rank, whether they
were or were not teachers.  This body, called thle   great
Congregation," met only at intervals.  This House was summoned by beadles.  The House of Convocation, as comprehending the ever increasing number of tlhose who were not
teachers, and also as determining questions whiich were of
interest to the whole academiical community, became the more
important of the two.
III.  The Chancellor, elected by the Masters of each College.
IV.  Two Proctors.  They were elected by the whole body
of the Masters of Arts.
This was the constitution of the administrative powers
formerly.
At thlle present time, the administration is in the hands ofI.  The fHebdomadal Board.  This consists of the ViceChairman, the twenlty-three other Heads of Houses, and the
two Proctors.  The Heads of Houses had, as such, no statutable power in the University before the middle of tlhe sixteenth
century.
II.  The Chancellor.  He is elected by Convocation, from
political considerations chiefly.
III.  The Vice- Chancellor.   He is nominated  firom  the
IHeads of the Houses.
IV.  The House of Congrecation.  Of the right of legislation, nothing now remains but that in it must be promulgated
all statutes three days at least before they are proposed in
Convocation.
V.  fHouse of Convocation.  This consists, as formerly, of
all Masters of Arts and Doctors, who hlave takell out t heir




86
regency, and who are members of a College or Hall.  It possesses the power of debating on the measures proposed by the
Hebdomadal Board, and by its acceptance these measures
become statutes.  It elects the Chancellor, the representatives
of the University to Parliament, many of the Professors, and
various University officers. while, on certain other appointments, it exercises a veto.  To it belongs the ecclesiastical
patronage of the University, and the right of conferring degrees out of the ordinary course.
The present constitution gives to the Vice-Chancellor singly,
and to the two PrOctors jointly, a veto on all the measures
brought before Convocation.
Such, briefly, is the constitution of the Uniiversity, as it was
finally confirmed by King Charles the First and Archbishop
Laud, and such it has ever since remained.
The Commission propose that the Congregation should be
remodeled, and have its powers increased, so that it should
be rlore nearly what it once was.  They propose that the
members of this remodeled Congregation should be the Heads
of the Houses and Proctors, who would sit there as the Administrative powers of the University, together with the Professors and the public Lecturers, who are the authorized
teachers; and that, in addition to these, the senior Tutor of
each College shall have a seat.  The Congregation, as thus
constituted, would consist of more than one hundred members, and would be allowed to hold its deliberations in the
I3English language, and not in the Latin, as at present.  The
duty of conferring degrees would still remain with the Congregation.
It also proposes that the Hebdomadal Board should remain
and transact the ordinary business and maintain discipline,
and that it should have the right, but not the exclusive right,
of initiating measures to be submitted to the Congregation.
It also proposes that the House of Convocation, constituted
as at present, should have the right to veto all the measures
passed by the Congregation, and retain the right of electing
the Chaincellor of the University and the Burgesses.




87
It also proposes to lessen the powers of the Proctors, by
taking from them the veto power, and the right of appointing
examiners.
The number of students actually residing at Oxford at the
present time is 1,300.  The annual number matriculated
averages about 400. The number of persons who have passed
the first examination for the degree of A.B. averages 287.
The total number of members of the University in 1850 was
67060. The number of undergraduates resident and non-resident in 1850 was 1,402. The number of members of Convocation was 3,294.  The remaining 1,364 members were
either graduates who had not yet acquired the franchise, or
graduates who, having once lost it by removing their names
from the books, have not yet recovered it by statutable means.
The number of graduates, of all ranks, residing at Oxford, is
about 300.
That the number of students educated at Oxford is not
larger, is owing to the fact that, in the three learned professions, it furnishes a preparation to not very many, except to
those who study theology. The great bulk of those who resort
to Oxford are destined for the ministry of the church; and
the number of students intended for holy orders would be
much greater if the expenses were considerably reduced. The
number of students at Cambridge is greater than at Oxford,
though at Cambridge the accommodations within the College
walls are more limited, and the endowments are much less
considerable.  This may be owing, in fact, to the greater
facilities for admission into a good and popular college at
Cambridge, together with the greater advantages thus afforded
by open Fellowships and Scholarships. Another reason may
be, that the examinations in that University can be more
easily passed by persons who have not gone through a classical education.  The absence, also, of a religious test at
matriculation may sometimes cause a preference to be given
to the sister University.
There is one practice in the instruction given in Oxford, as
also in Cambridge, which deserves a passing notice. We refer




88
to private tuition.  bi Private tutors are not recognized by
name oil the statutes of the University or of the Colleges.
They are selected bythe students.  They often become their
advisers and friends.  The care, or at least the time, bestowed
on each student by the private tutor, is greater than that
which is bestowed by the College tutor.  It is stated, upon
good autllority, that the sum annually spent for private tuition
at Cambridge amounts to 50,0001.  At Oxford, the practice
of resorting to private tutors is less general. Still, the annual
sums thus spent must be large."
The following is a statement of the good and of the evil of
such tuition:Of the system of private tuition the advantages are manifest.  "The power of selection has great efficacy in attaching
the pupil to the tutor, and I call speak from experience, that
the tendency is strong to overrate the abilities and industry
of a private tutor, a leaning not generally observed in the case
of public tuition.  The unfettered intercourse, the power of
stating a difficulty without incurring ridicule, the greater
equality of age and position, all tend to give the system efficacy. The system of private tuition is a necessary and unavoidable concomitant to any examination.  No sooner were
examinations established for the masters and mlates of merchant ships, than there arose a class of men whose business
it was to cram the candidates."
" The system of private tuition has, however, its defects.
The persons into whose hands it principally falls are young
men of unformed character, knowing little of the world, or
probably of anything except the course of study by which they
have gained distinction. Such is their influence fromn their
position, that they are really forming the minds of the undergraduates before they have formed their own.  As for the
private tutors themselves, the practice is probably bad for them,
since, as soon as they have taken their degrees, they are placed
in a position which will tend to narrow the mind and generate
habits of self-conceit."
The Commission expresses the belief that reliance must be




89
placed mainly upon a return to the plani contemplated by the
Laudian code, for improving the instruction in the Universities, shaping its application so as to meet the wants of the
present time.
Colleges are defined as charitable foundations for the support of poor scholars with perpetual succession, devoting themselves to study and prayer, administering their own affairs
under the presidency of a Head within, and the control of a
Visitor without, according to statutes which were to be neither
altered nor modified, and which were sanctioned by solemn
oaths.  Colleges were intended to be what they are still, in
the eye of the founders, Eleemosynary Foundations.  William
of Wykehamn states, that next to his kinsmen, poor inldigent
clerks are to be admitted, because Christ, among the works
of mercy, hath commanded menl to receive the poor into
their houses, and mercifully to comfort the indigent. In
Queen's and New College, the Fellows are forbidden to keep
dogs, on the ground that "' to give dogs the bread of the children of men, is not fitting for the poor, especially for those
who live on alms.'"
Colleges were founded for the purpose of affording to students a home in which they would be preserved from  the
turbulence and the licentiousness which in ancient times were
almost always prevalent in the University. Fellows of college
were to live together as members of a community. Founders
intended that each of their Fellows should be improved by all
in their daily intercourse. The rule of life in the earliest
colleges was comparatively simple.  It included, generally,
common meals, during which the Bible was to be read, and
silence kept; the use, in private as well as in public, of the
Latin tongue, for which in Oriel and Queen's French, in Corpus Greek, in Jesus College Greek or Hebrew, might be substituted; uniformity of dress; strict obedience to the Head
and college officers; terminal scrutinies for the purpose of
inquiring into the life, modes, progress in learning, of the
Fellows and other members of the college; and a system of
surveillance to be carried on nligt and day by the seniors over




90
the juniors. Celibacy was strictly imposed on the members
of most colleges.
The purposes for which the indigent students were thus
formed into a community, may be generally stated in the
words of the older jurists, as related by Blackstone, to be ad
orandum et studendum. The first purpose was that the Fellows should offer prayers for the living and the dead.
Moreover, each Fellow was bound, after completing his course
in college, to proceed to one of the superior professions, generally that of theology. A few exceptions were made in favor
of common or civil law; a still smaller number in favor of
medicine, and at New College in favor of astronomy. To receive, then, and not to give instruction, was the business of
the Fellows.
The founders of colleges sought to procure the perpetual
observance of their statutes by placing them under the patronage of some great personage otherwise not connected with
the college, who bore the name of Visitor. The Visitors are
empowered, and in some cases earnestly entreated, to inspect
the societies commnitted to their care from time to time, and
to reform all abuses.
An examination of the condition of the colleges will show
that there have been wide deviations from the purposes of the
founders. The colleges are no longer eleemosynary. The
Fellows are no longer bound to live as members of a community, subject to a strict rule of life. Since the Reformation,
the legislature has prohibited masses and prayers for the
dead. The main object of the endowment of colleges, namely,
to support persons actually engaged in study, has been almost
entirely set aside.  The number of Fellows who reside for
the purpose of study is very small. The Visitors of colleges
have long since ceased to inquire into the condition of the
communities committed to their care, and the observance of
the statutes.
As already mentioned, the authorities of the University
refused to give an account of the revenues to the Commissioners. It appears, however, that the colleges are in the re



91
ceipt of about $750,000 annually, exclusively of what is paid
by the students.
In regard to the state of discipline, the Commissioners are
of the opinion, 1.o  That the University should receive indemnification in ease it has exceeded its power in altering
the Laudean code, and should henceforth have full authority
to make, abrogate, or alter the statutes with the exception of
a few fundamental articles not to be altered without the consent of the Crown or some superior authority.  2. That the
right of initiating measures should be confided to a body comprising the academical teachers as well as the members of the
Illebdomadal Board.  For this purpose it may be expedient
that the body called the Congregation should be remodelled
so as to consist of all Heads of Houses, the Proctors, all Professors and public lecturers, together with the senior tutors of
all Colleges and 14alls.  3. That the standing delegacies intrusted with executive functions, should be composed partly
of members approved by the Congregation on tlle nonination
of the Vice-Chancellor and Proctors, and that the Professors
slhould be formed into a standing delegacy, and not liable to
alteration, for the supervision of studies, the appointment of
exercises, and the management of the public libraries.  4.
That the Vice-Chancellor should be appointed absolutely by
the Chancellor from  the Heads of Colleges.  5. That the
tenure of the Proctor's office be extended to two years, and
that their power of veto on acts of Convocation be abolished, and some of their other powers be limited.  6. That
the imposition of promissory oaths for the performance of certain academical duties, should be prohibited.  7. That the
distinction between noblemen, gentlemen commoners, and
commoners, should be discontinued.  8. That certain legal
checks be placed upon obtaining credit.  9. That the ViceChancellor's court for the recovery of debts conform  to other
courts.  10. That the provision by which the students shall
be required to belong to some College, or Hall, and that they
shall all egter at a common gate, should be annulled, and
that in some cases members of the University shall be permitted to live in private lodgings.
1.12




92
That as to the studies, 1. That there should be a public
examination for all the young men before matriculation. 2.
That during the latter part of the academical course, the students should be left free to devote themselves to some special
branch or branches of study.  3. That the Professors should
be distributed into four Boards for the regular studies:  I.
Theology.  II. Mental Philosophy or Philology.  I1M. Jurisprudence and History.  IV. Mathematical and  Physical
Science.  4. That restrictions on the appointment of Professors should be removed.  5. That the appointment of
newly-created Chairs should be given to the Crown, but that
the appointment to existing Professorships should be left in
the same hands as at present, except that those vested in
Convocation, in the graduates of Divinity, and in the Heads
of Houses, should be transferred to Congregations.  6. That,
to assist the Professors, assistant Professors or lecturers
should be appointed, whenever necessary, by Boards to which
they would respectively belong, subject to the approval of
Congregation; that in case independent endowments cannot
be furnished, a limited number of Fellows of colleges, if appointed to such lectureships, should retain their Fellowships
though married; and that Congregation should authorize the
establishment of new Professorships, when they are wanted,
or the suspension of those which may have ceased to be required.  7. That Professors and lecturers should be allowed
to receive fees. 8. That the long vacation should commence
and terminate on fixed days.  9. That the examinations
should be conducted, as far as possible, in the vacations.  10.
That steps should be taken to remove the restrictions which
limit the usefulness of the University scholarships and prizes.
11. That the Bodleian library should be placed under the
management of Professors; that the Professors be authorized,
on special occasions, to grant permission that printed books
and manuscripts be taken out of the building; that a reading
room  be providedwith due accommodations.  12. That arrangements be made for transferring the department of physical science to the Radcliffe library.  13. That a catalogue be




93
prepared of sucll books as are in the other libraries, but not
in the Bodleian library.  14. That the University proceed with
the plan lately brought forward for building a large museum
of natural history, and that the trustees of present collections
of various kinds should be empowered to transfer their collections to this museum.
That as to the revenues, 1. That there should be a balancesheet of the revenues of the University printed annually, for
the use of Cotnvocation, and that the account booksthemselves
should be accessible.  2. That the table of fees exacted by
the University should be revised so as to equalize all fees demanded for the same purpose, and to abolish those which are
demanded for no service, or which are unnecessary.  3. That
the funds at the disposal of the University should be applied
to University purposes only.  4. That the stamp duties levied
on matriculation, on degrees, and on certificates of degrees,
should be remitted.
That as to the Colleges, 1. Thlat all oaths imposed by College statutes, and all declarations against change of statutes,
should be prohibited as unlawful.  2. That all Fellowships
should be thrown open to all members of the University,
wherever born; provided  they have taken  the degree of
Bachelor of Arts, and can produce a proper certificate of
character.  3. That persons elected to Fellowships should be
released from all restrictions on the tenure of their Fellowships
arising from the obligation to enter holy orders, or from that
of' proceeding to degrees in the faculties of Theology, Law, or
Medicine; but that it would be expedient to modify rather
than to remove the restrictions arising from the possession of
property, and celibacy should still continue to be the necessary
condition for holding Fellowships, with certain specified exceptions. 4. That steps should be taken in the various Colleges,
to prevent the annual value of any Fellowsllip from amounting
to mlore thal  3001., or falling below 1501.  5. That no part
of the funds of Colleges, except those specifically given for
that purpose, sllould be applied to the purchase of advowsons.
6. That in Colleges where there is more than one foundation,




94
all Fellows should be placed on the same footing, both as to
rights and duties.  7. That for the election of Fellows and
Scholars in the larger Colleges, Boards should be formed, consisting of not less than twelve, and including thle Head and
all Fellows engaged in education.  S. Tlhat a certain number
of Fellowships should be, for the present at least, appropriated
for the encouragement of the new studies introduced into the
academical system.  9. That if necessary, the Visitor should
have power to issue a commission, for the re-examination of
candidates for Fellowships, on appeal from rejected candidates.
10. That all Scholarships should be thrown open to British
subjects under the age of nineteen, of whatever lineage and
birthll-place.  The only exceptions to this are, that certain
Scholarships in Jesus College should be reserved for persons
born and educated in Wales, and that certain Scholarships in
Colleges connected with particular schools should be reserved
for persons educated at those schools.  11. That no Scholarships or exhibitions in the gift of Colleges, should be tenable
for more than five years, and that in no case should a Scholarship lead to a Fellowship without fresh competition.  12. That
College revenues should be made, to a certain extent, available
for the education of the University, and that by the appropriation of' funllds given for Lectureships or Fellowships, Professorships should be endowed, in Corpus Christi, in Magdalen,
Merton, Queen's, and New College.  18. That these Professor-Fellows should not be elected by the College-electors, but
that such Fellowships should follow thle Professorships to
which they may be respectively attached.  14. That the Heads
of Colleges should be selected from  any persons who have
taken the degree of Master of Arts, and thlat the election to
these offices should, if possible, be left to the Fellows of the
College.  15. Thlat in all cases the Visitors should be empowered to visit their Colleges and to correct abuses, and that the
Visitors should be called upon to lay a copy of a report to be
received from the Head of the College on the state, discipline,
studies, and revenues of the College before the Sovereigii, with
such observatiolls as h-e may think fit to make.  16. That the




95
Head and Fellows in each society shall have power, under
such control as may be thought expedient, to alter or abrogate statutes, and to frame new statutes as occasion may require.
These are the alterations which are proposed by the Commission.
The question naturally arises, where, if anywhere, does the
power lie to make these alterations?
Does it lie with the College, or with the University, or with
the Visitors, or with the Sovereign, or with Parliament?
The Colleges of Oxford were founded from the end of the
thirteenth century to the beginning of the eighteenth, fourteen of the nineteen by Roman Catholics.  As already remarked, they were founded for literary and religious purposes,
and largely for the support of " poor and indigent college
clerks, who are bound to apply themselves to the study of
philosophy and theology according to the ordinances of the
statutes."  The celebration of prayers and masses for the
souls of founders and benefactors, was, no doubt, an important collateral object with some of the Roman Catholic founders, but it does not appear that it was the chief object. All
persons on the foundation previous to the Reformation were
clerici.
But to return to the question asked above. According to
the legal opinion expressed by Mr. Dampier, one of the Commission,'" the power of allowing college statutes which exists
elsewhere than in Parliament, is conjointly in the Sovereign,
the Society, and in the founder's heir. If the Sovereign be
the founder, or if there be Iio heir of the subject founder, the
Sovereign and the Society are sufficient."
That some mode should be adopted, by which changes
may be made in the adlminlistration of the University, appears
to be the general wish of the intelligent portion of the people
of Great Britain.  And we are inclined to the opinion, that,
notwitllhstallding the difficulties in the case, a way will either
be discovered or made for accomplishing  some of these
changes.  Our views on this point we reserve for another
place.




96
Having presented our readers with a brief abstract from
the Report of the Oxford Uiiiversity Commission, we proceed
now to the second work at the foot of this article.  Mr.
Bristed, after graduating with honor at Yale, and spending
one year at New Haven as a resident graduate, entered the
University of Cambridge, England, as a student in Trinity
College, where he took one of the Scholarslhips, and where
he remained five years.  He tlhus had the best opportunities to form  a correct opinion of the system of education in
Cambridge.  In his preface he remarks that he " writes this
book for three reasons:' First, very little is accurately known in this country about
the English Universities.
" Secondly, most of wlhat we have respecting those institutions, comes through the medium of popular novels and other
light literature, frequently written by non-University men, and
almost always conveying an erroneous and unfavorable idea of
the Universities.
" Tlhirdly and principally, there are points in an English
education which may be studied with profit, and from which
we may draw valuable hints."
We introduce this book to our readers, not for the purpose
of criticism to wlhich it is open, but to carry out.the object
of the writer, and assist our readers to form a correct idea
of education as carried on in an English University.  Malny
of the statements contained in this article  in respect to
Oxford, will apply to Cambridge with certain specific differences, so that the second work may serve as a comment upon
tlie first.
On the second page we have a description of a college
structure:" You enter, then, by a portal neither particularly large nor very
striking in its appearance, but rather the reverse, into a spacious
and elegant square. There are neat grass plots and walks, a fountain in the centre; on one side stands a well proportioned chapel,
in one corner you catch a glimpse through a tantalizing grating of
-a beautiful garden, appropriated to the delectation of the authori



97
ties. In a second court you find sounding and venerable cloisters,
perhaps a veritable structure of monkish times; if not. a satisfactory imitation of that period. And as you look on the walls, here
rich with sculptured ornaments, there covered with trailing and
festooning ivy, the theory and the idea of a college edifice begin
to strike you: its front is inside for its own benefit; it turns its
back upon the vulgar outside. But you have not yet fathomed and
sounded the spirit of seclusion. The entries are narrow and low;
the staircases narrow and tortuous; the iron bound doors closed
by some mysterious spring; or open only to show another door
within, look like portals to a feudal dungeon. But up those breakneck staircases, and inside those formidable doors (sometinales with
the additional preliminary of a small dark passage), are luxurious
suites of rooms, not exactly like those of a Parisian hotel, or a'double house' in the Fifth Avenue, but quite as beautiful and
much more comfortable.  The apartments and the entrance seem
made in inverse proportion to each other; a mere hole in the wall
sometimes leads you to half a house of rooms; and most cosy rooms
they are, with their prodigiously thick walls, that keep out the cold
in winter, and the heat, when there is any, in summer; their ilnpregnable sporting doors that defy alike the hostile dun and the too
friendly'fast man,' and all their quaint appurtenances, such as
book-cases of the true scholastic sort, sunk into and forming a part
of the wall, so that it would not be easy to appropriate them or the
space they occupy to any other purpose; queer little nooks of
studies, just large enough to hold a man in an arm chair and a big
dictionary; unexpected garrets which the very occupant of the
rooms never goes into without an air of enterprise and mystery, and
which the old priests used for oratories-perhaps; the modern Cantabs keep their wine in them."-Pp. 2, 3.
"Studying in vacation?  Even so; for you may almost take it
for granted as a general rule that college regulations and customs
in England are just the reverse of what they are in America.  In
America you rise and recite to your instructor who is seated; in
England you sit and construe to him as he stands at his desk.  In
America you go sixteen times a week to chapel or woe be to you;
but then you may stay out of your room all night for a week together, and nobody will know or care. In England you have about
eleven chapels to keep, and may choose your own time of day,
morning or evening, to keep them; but you cannot get out of col



98
lege after ten at night, and if being out, you stay till after twelve,
you are very likely to hear of it next morning.  In America you
may go about in any dress that does not outrage decency, and it is
not uncommon for youths to attend chapel and'recitation room'
in their ragged dressing gowns, with perhaps a pretext of a cloak;
in England you must scrupulously observe the academical garb
while within the college walls, and not be too often seen wearing
white great coats or other eccentric garments under it.  In America
the manufacture of coffee in your room will subject you to suspicion,
and should that bugbear, the tutor, find a bottle of wine on your
premises, he sets you down as a hardened reprobate; in England
you may take your bottle or two or six with as many friends as
you please, and unless you disturb the whole court by your exuberant revelry, you need fear no annoyance from your tutor; nay
expand your supper into a stately dinner, and he will come (public
tutor or private) like a brick as he is, and consume his share of the
generous potables, yea, take a hand in your rubber afterwards. In
America you may not marry, but your tutor can; in England you
may marry, but he can't. In America you never think of opening
a book in vacation; in England the vacations are the times when
you read most.  Indeed, since vacations occupy more than half of
the year, he who keeps them idle will not do much work during his
college course.  Then in vacation, particularly the long, there is
every facility for reading-no large dinner or wine or supper
parties, no rowing men making a noise about the courts, no exciting boat-races, no lectures (owing to the private-tutorial system, the
public lectures, with some happy exceptions, are rather in the way
of than any help to the best men), the chapel rules looser than ever,
the town utterly dull and lifeless.'-Pp. 77, 78.
" The private tutor at an English University, corresponds, as has
been already observed, in many respects to the prFofessor at a German.  The German professor is not necessarily attached to any
specific chair; he receives no fixed stipend, and has not public lecture-rooms; he teaches at his own house, and the number of his
pupils depends on his reputation. The Cambridge private tutor is
also a graduate, who takes pupils at his rooms in numbers proportionate to his reputation and abilities.  And although while the
German professor is regularly licensed as such by his University,
and the existence of the private tutor as such is not even officially
recognized by his, still this difference is more apparent than real;




99
for the English University has virtcally licensed the tutor to instruct
in a particular branch by the standing she has given him in her
examinations. But the private tutor's office, is somewhat peculiar
in the details of instruction, owing to the causes which first called
the system into being, and now perpetuate it.' The publicity given to College and University honors, and the
importance assigned to them, have been already more than once
alluded to. They exceed anything of which we have any conception in our academical institutions. True, the publicity does not
come in the same way; there is no crowding of commencements to
hear the young men make speeches; but if a comparatively small
number of the public come to gaze at the successful student, his
name goes forth to all who read the papers-for in every newspaper not only the results of the degree examination and the University prizes, but all the College examinations, and College prizes,
are conspicuously reported.  When I was elected Scholar of Trinity, Dr. Whewell thought it worth while to write express to Mr.
Everett, announcing the fact in advance of the press; as if our
minister would be justified in regarding it as a national matter.
When an acquaintance of mine, who was related to a member of
the cabinet, wished for a start in the diplomatic line, the statesman's
first advice to him was, be sure to get a wranglership! As to the
first men of the year there is no end of the celebrities for the time
being." —Pp. 146, 147.
But besides the reputation, success in Scholarship brings
with it "c solid testimonies in the shape of books, plate, or
money."  A Trinity scholarship is worth from ~60 to ~40 a
year.  Some of the small College scholarships are worth ~100
a year. A Fellowslhip gives an income of from ~200 to ~400.
"A friend of mine was during his third year, between school
exhibitions, College scholarships and prizes, and the University scholarship, in the receipt of more than seventeen hundred
dollars."  " Indeed, it is a common saying and hardly an
exaggerated one, that a poor student, by taking a high
degree, supports, not only himself, but his mother and sisters
for life."
"' The purpose served by a private tutor is to assist a student to supply any deficiencies in his preparation for entering
the University; and to direct the study so that it shall not
13




100
be wasted.  An ordinary tutor takes five or six pupils a
day, giving an hour to each.  One of great celebrity will
take twice as many, if a classic, or four times as many, if a
mathelmatician."
"The student reading with a classical tutor translates to him
from some (prepared) author, brings him composition prepared at
home, and writes out in the tutor's rooms, examination fashion,
both translations and compositions, which after being corrected,
are compared with the tutor's models. As much of the pupil's
reading must be done by himself, the great object of the tutor is
composition, but he also serves as a general commentator, and last
resort in difficulties; it is also his business to make selections of
hard passages from authors whom the student may not have time
and inclination to read the whole of, and to point out the proper
books for' cram,' and philological information."-P. 149.
Tile regular fee of a private tutor is ~7 a term, if you go to
him on alternate days, or ~14 if every day.
The following is the account which he gives of Eton
College:
" It is a singular spectacle for an American to see numbers of
youths eighteen or nineteen years old, who, in his own country,
would call themselves and be called young men, leaders of fashionable society, perhaps-going about in boyish costume, and evidently in the status of boys. What increases the singularity of the
appearance is, that the Englishman's physical development is more
rapid than that of the American, of the Northern States at least;
thus the Etonian of nineteen is as old in appearance as the New
Yorker and Bostonian of twenty-one. They all wear white cravats
and black beavers; caps are forbidden, otherwise there is no uniformity of costume, and the juvenile round jacket is as common as
the manly coat upon strapping young fellows nearly six feet high.
Still, however you may dress persons of that age, it is not possible
to confine them fully to the discipline of boys; the upper forms will
walk out into the town of Windsor, and should one of them meet
a tutor, he takes refuge in a shop, the tutor, by a long established
fiction, making believe not to see him."
"There are always several hundred boys at Eton; at that period
(1845) it numbered more than seven hundred. About one-tenth
of these are Collegers. The Collegers are the nucleus of the whole




101
system, and the only original part of it, the paying pupils (oppidans, town boys), being, according to the general belief, an aftergrowth. They (the Collegers) are educated gratuitously, and such
of them as have nearly, but not quite reached the age of nineteen,
when a vacancy in King's College, Cambridge, occurs, are elected
scholars there forthwith, and provided for during life-or until
marriage."-P. 262.
We have the following account of Dr. Whewell.'Dr.
Whewell's accession to the Mastership of Trinity might well
have been ail era in the history of that royal and religious
institution ":" The new head was a gentleman of most commanding personal
appearance, and the very sound of his powerful voice betokened
no ordinary man. He was a remarkably good rider even in a
country of horsemen, and the anecdote was often told and not altogether repudiated by him, how in his younger days, about the time
of his ordination, a' pugilist, in whose company he accidentally
found himself while traveling, audibly lamented that such lusty
thews and sinews should be thrown away on a parson." —P. 87.
"A young man who enters there (Cambridge), and is disposed
to find a truly'good set,' can find one, or indeed form his choice
among several sets of really virtuous and religious men. It was
my comfort to know many right worthy of the name of Christians
according to the highest standard that was ever lived up to; men
of no particular clique or theological school, but holding various
opinions and coming from various places and teachers; pupils of
Arnold from Rugby; Evangelicals from King's College, London;
other King's College London men of the eclectic stamp, followers
of Professor Maurice, who, looked at from a Presbyterian point of
view, might be called high churchmen; Eton men, who were yet
more eclectic, and had trained themselves nullius jurare in verba
magistri. Men who differed in many things, but agreed in being
sincere Christians, whether you regarded their faith or their practice; and whose conduct strikingly exemplified that common sense
of religion, which is so conspicuous in the writings of Whately,
Arnold, and other liberal Churchmen, and of which a really good
Englishman, when you find one, presents the very best specimen
in his life.  They seemed every day to solve that most difficult
problem of'being in the world, not of it.' "-P. 352.




102
The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge have been called
the " two eyes of England."  They were long the instruments
of vision for the nation at home and abroad, in the British
isles, and in the four quarters of the globe. What they saw
was communicated in appropriate voices to the world. They
were considered as the supreme arbiters on all questions relating to science and literature, morals and religion. To them
kings and statesmen resorted for a solution of their doubts.
In them was concentrated a learned order, who, in succession,
received, as it were by inheritance, the theoretical and the
practical knowledge of the times, as well as learning proper.
From each went forth into active and professional life, men of
cultivated minds, scholars, divines, jurists, acquainted with
political truth in its elements, who carried with them a controlling and a salutary influence into Church and State, enlightening the understanding, purifying the heart, and refining
the manners of the nation. We see these worthies through
the mists of ages " in long procession calm and beautiful,"
with their eyes raised towards the fountain of truth, with a
prayer in their hearts for heavenly guidance. In the middle
ages, during the rise of classical learning, during the Reformation, during the turbulent times of the first Charles and of
the Protectorate of Cromwell, and, indeed, down to the present
day, these institutions have been the conservators of sound
learning, and of the orthodox faith. They were the light of
the world; they were the salt of the earth. And thousands
even now look to the one or the other as their Alma Mater,
from whose nourishing bosom they derived the " sincere milk
of the word," until they grew up to the stature of intellectual
manhood.
But an opinion hostile to the universities, as at present constituted, has grown up extensively in England, especially
among Dissenters and Roman Catholics. It is openly asserted,
that they do not accomplish the purposes for which they were
founded; that being established to meet the wants of former
generations, they are not adapted to the present, inasmuch as
the present differs from the former; that they have grown




103
into the decrepitude of age; that though they have been called
the' eyes of Enlgland," she sees none the better for them;
that though "the light of the body is the eye," yet the light
that is in them is but darkness, or, at best, only sufficient to
render the "darkness visible;" that instead of moving on
with the age, they are stationary; that, in the language of
Dugald Stewart, in his remarks concerning some of the religious and academic institutions of some parts of Europe,
" immovably moored to the same station by the strength of
their cables and the weight of their anchors, they enable him
(the historian) to measure the rapidity of the current by which
the rest of the world is borne along."
In view of the present condition of the universities, questions like the following naturally suggest themselves: Ought
changes to be made? if so, what changes? and how should
they be made? These questions are now before the Britislh
people, as most important questions in their bearing upon
learning and religion.
I. Ought any changes to be made? That there ought to
be any radical changes in the organic structure, or in the
working functions of the universities, we are not disposed to
admit. Such changes can neither constitutionally nor righteously be made. They would be a violation of duties owed
to the founders of the colleges, to the personal incumbents in
office, to those who have been educated at the universities,
and to the whole nation, whose faith and honor are pledged
to the maintenance of chartered rights.
It would, moreover, be bad policy to make such changes,
inasmuch as it would be virtually a declaration either that
the government would not keep faith with the universities, or
that the universities, having accepted a valuable trust from
the founders, under the sanction of the government, will not
keep faith with the dead. It would be virtually a declaration
to those who are disposed, by their will or otherwise, to
bestow their treasures upon institutions of learning, that
these treasures may, after they are in their graves, be applied
in other ways, or for other purposes than those which they




104
should prescribe. The consequence would be that no prudent
man would dare to endow institutions of learning for special
purposes.
But that some changes call be constitutionally and righteously made there is no doubt.  Many changes, indeed, have
already been made, in which all were agreed, and these may
be regarded as the pledge and the earnest of other important
changes. Every literary institution is to greater or less extent
empirical, and is not found, from experiment in its working
processes, to be incapable of improvement. Every such institution is found, on trial, to be defective in some of its arrangements, in other words, is not perfect, and, therefore, can be
improved by changes judiciously introduced.
II. The second question, namely, what changes should be
made? it is not so easy to answer.  They must evidently be
such as will help to accomplish the purposes of the founders
in the way pointed out by them. They must be such as pertain to the accidents, and not such as pertain to the essential
principles of their structure and functions. In ascertaining
what were their purposes, we are to interpret their language
in a liberal spirit, and feel bound not more by the exact letter
than by its general scope.
On a former page we have stated with great particularity the
changes which have been proposed, especially in Oxford. The
object aimed at by the changes proposed is to bring the university of Oxford into harmony with the spirit of the age in
which -we live, and enable the graduates to go forth to their
several posts of duty to supply the wants of the present time.
What is said of Oxford is likewise, to a great extent, said of
Cambridge, though not with the same emphasis. The universities, it is asserted, established as they were in former
ages, were, in their spirit and form, in harmony with the
ages in which they were established.  But the spirit of those
ages no longer exists, but has given place to another spirit
in the British nation and the world. Hence arises the necessity of introducing such changes as shall make them the same
to the present age that they were to those ages in which they
were established.




105
Now, in this reasoning there is a fallacy as well as a truth.
The fallacy is found in the assumption, that the universities
were, when they were established, the exponents of the spirit
of those ages; whereas, in fact, they were the exponents of a
few leading minds, but not of the ages generally.  They were
the exponents of men like Alfred, and Baliol, and Walter de
Merton, and Walter Stapleton, and others, who in succession,
established the several colleges of Oxford. They were the
exponents of men like Hugh Basham, and Richard Baden,
and Henry of Monmouth, and otllets, who ill succession established the several colleges of Camibridge.  But they and
other founders differed very widely from the great mass of
the British nation in their spirit.
And moreover, the founders took measures inl the very
establishmnent of these institutions, that those who frequented
them, should be sequestered from society for the very purpose
of making them differ from  the masses.  They evidently
intended that the universities should rear up the highest
style of scholars, the highest style of Christians, the highest
style of men, by excluding them from  society in general,
and bringing them into association with the best specimens
of humanity.  Indeed, in some of the colleges express rules
were enacted, that no student should be permitted to enter
into the house of a layman resident in the town of Oxford.
it was evidently the design of the founders, that the universities should take promising young men away from the turbulence and corruption of the times, bring them  into commullion with everything that is pure, and noble, and manly,
and afterwards send them  out into the world to regenerate
and reform it.
When, therefore, it is asserted by the root-and-branch men,
that there ought to be radical reforms in the universities in
order to bring them into harmony with the spirit of tile age,
we say in reply, that the assertion is based on an assumption
that is not strictly true. The founders did not design that
the universities should be conformed to the spirit of the age,
which largely was a bad spirit, but that the spirit of the age




106
should be conformed to the spirit in them, which was a better
spirit. We cannot believe, then, that they would wish them
to be conformed to the spirit of the age now, any more than
they wished them to be conformed to the spirit of the age
then. But there is a sense in which the reasoning we are
considering is sound. In order to accomplish all the general
purposes of their creation, they must be adapted to those purposes, as means to an end. Now it must be conceded that
they are not thus entirely adapted to supply the wants of the
church and the state, the nation and the world. There is in
them  a vast amount of learning strictly so called, and of
science in the proper meaning of the word, of talent and of
piety, which are stagnant. There are in them noble libraries,
the treasured stores of knowledge, the works of the great ones
in the earth's history, of the sages, the historians, the philosophers, which are not read, much less studied, by any considerable number. There are wise men and good meni, eminent
scholars and eminent Chlristians, congregated in them, who
are as a light shining in a dark place, and the darkness comprehending it not. There are collected in these institutions,
something like three thousand young men, who come from
some of the best families, and some of the best schools in the
United Kingdom; from Eton, and Westminster, and Rugby,
and Harrow. And having been nurtured in them, they then
go forth, into the learned professions at home, or into the
colonies, to give a character to those professions; or into
rural life to refine, and dignify, and adorn it; or it may be,
into the House of Lords, or the House of Commons, to contiol and direct the energies of the most enlightened and powerful nation on the globe. And yet there are complaints
apparently well founded, that these universities do not, in
their religious or their literary polity, exert their appropriate
influence upon the masses of the people.  We have already
specified the changes which are proposed, on a former page.
These changes relate, 1, to the state of discipline; 2, to the
studies; 3, to the management of the revenue; 4, to the condition of particular colleges.




107
III.  We have now come to the third question, How shall
these changes be made?   The literary institutions of each
civilized nation have a character of their own, and are so
related to the other institutions of the country, that we cannot
speak confidently as to the manner in which changes should
be made in them, without being well acquainted with those
other institutions. In making any of the changes proposed
by the Commission, as stated in the article in our former
pages, regard should be had to the prescribed purposes of the
founders, to the views of the visitors, of the sovereign, of
Parliament, and to the rights of the several colleges, and to
those of the universities at large. The wise men of Great;
Britain are, we doubt not, perfectly competent to take care
of the whole subject, and to determine without our aid,
whether any changes should be made, what those changes
should be, and how they should be introduced. These questions we have brought forward, not so much for the purpose
of answering them, as for that of laying them before our readers for their consideration.
We cannot; reason very conclusively from American colleges to English universities.  There are several points of
difference between the two classes of institutions.  An
English university is strictly a religious institution, and
belongs, in a sense, to the national church.  The American
colleges, which were first established, were, in like manner,
consecrated to " Christ and the church."  But those more
recently established, have shown some tendency, like the
primary schools, to lay aside their religious, or at least, their
sectarian type.
An English university is national.  American colleges are
not national. Most belong to some particular religious denomination; some are State institutions.
English universities have foundations for the support of fellowships, which keep a body of able and promising men together under the most favorable circumstances for prosecuting
their studies, and thoroughly preparing themselves for eminence, whether as authors or in professional life.  American
colleges liave no such provision.
14




108
English universities include in them the idea of a well
arranged government, of an exact code of laws, of an active
police, a diligent supervision of the students.  They were
framed on the idea that education includes government as
well as instruction; "both the nurture and the admonition
of the Lord;" subordition to authority, as well as the acquisition of knowledge.  American colleges, the earlier ones, like
Harvard and Yale, and Princeton, and others, were established upon the same idea, and long acted upon it, borrowing
their notions from England.  Indeed, most or all, still to
some extent act upon the same idea. But it must be confessed that many of them act upon the French or the German
idea, namely, that the " young gentlemen must govern themselves."  Indeed, the young gentlemen sometimes have produced the impression, that, not content with governing themselves, they aspire, in their democratic tendencies, to the
control of the faculty or trustees in some of their functions,
and even to the giving shape to the organic structure of the
institution; as if they were the third estate, the popular, and
the most important, because the most numerous branch of
government.
In English universities young men are placed under their
guardianship, that they may be sequestered from  the world,
and not be governed by its spirit, whethler as seen in mercantile pursuits, in war, in politics, or in moral reform. It seems
to have been the design of the founders, at least some of
them, that the under graduates should not mingle much in
society at large.  In American colleges, the young men are
not so much sequestered from  general society, and conform
more to its spirit, live less in the past in communion with
men of former generations, and more in the future; are prophetic rather than historical in their association of thought.
Many act as teachers of the primary schools.  A considerable
number take an interest in politics, and exercise the right of
suffrage in the elections, even though they are obliged for
this purpose to give up some of their college exercises and
visit their homes. Some of them, in their eagerness to let




109
their light shine before others, are in haste in their early and
precocious maturity to be moral reformers, and mingle in
society as religious teachers, or exhorters, before they have
finished their academical education.
English universities are, to a large extent, from their great
wealth, their ancient renown, from  the influence of their
alumni, independent in their condition, and are, therefore,
under little temptation to lower the standard of scholarship
and discipline to court popular favor. American colleges, on
the other hand, are comparatively poor, and have to depend
chiefly on the payment of the term bills for their support,
and are thus dependent on the number of students which
they can attract and retain.  They are, therefore, in their
competition with each other for students, under temptation to
underbid each other in some way, either by lowering their
requisitions, or by shortening the term of study necessary for
obtaining a. degree, or by abolishing honorary appointments,
so that there may be no distinctions which will mortify the
proud and lazy, or the diligent and dull, or by granting larger
liberties to the students, or by the introduction of parallel
popular courses for the masses.
While English universities differ from American colleges in
these and in other respects, they likewise agree with them
largely in the end aimed at, in the means employed, and in
the results accomplished. We propose, in the following remarks, to examine the importance and value of those results;
inasmuch as they are doubted by a large class of mlen, both in
the United States and in Great Britain.
Whoever has carefully examined the progress of human
improvement in the discovery and application of truth, must
have noticed the fact, that questions which, in one age,
seemed to be forever settled, are in another agitated with as
much zeal as if they had never before been investigated. In
the intellectual war between the children of light and the
children of darkness, the champions of learning will, on some
occasion, go forth and win, with their arms of proof, wide
regions of thought from the dominion of error. What they




110
thus win with their good weapons, they regard as their own,
to be transmitted to their successors in perpetual right. But
their successors find that what they have thus received by inheritance they cannot enjoy in peaceful possession, but that
they too, in their turn, must fight over the same battles which
others have fought before them.
The questions which are thus litigated from age to age,
are not those which are connected with the mathematics or
the physical sciences. The discoveries in these branches of
knowledge, made in ancient times, have been transmitted
from generation to generation, as a patrimonial inheritance
entailed and undisputed. From  the time that these have
fairly been annexed to that intellectual empire, over which
cultivated human mind presides, they have been considered
as belonging of right to that empire. Out of the tossing ocean
of theories and opinions they rose in their solid strength at the
call of philosophic genius; as Delos of old in the broad
Aegean, at the command of the father of gods, became fixed
and immoveable.
The class of questions to which we referred are those that
more directly come home to men's business and bosoms. They
are practical in their nature, whether they relate to religion,
to government, or to education. It is, indeed, mortifying to
the pride of knowledge, that after the principles of these important subjects have been settled by a thorough examination,
there should still be so many false systems of religion; so
many oppressive forms of government; so many absurd plans
of education. And still more mortifying is it, instead of pressing on the cause of original investigation and discovery, and
the application of truths long since discovered, to hear these
truths questioned, and to be obliged, therefore, to spend time
and effort in proving what has been proved, and in doing over
again what has been well done by others. To this mortifying
condition are the friends of learning sometimes brought by
those from whom we ought to hope better things, who question
the value and the importance of a liberal education.
By a liberal education, we mean what is generally under



ill
stood by the phrase: viz., such an education as it is the object
of the more respectable universities and colleges to communicate. Originally the term meant that kind of education which
is suited to a free man, in distinction from that which was
suited to a slave.  It included a knowledge of what were
called the liberal arts. These arts were seven in number, viz.
Lingua, Tropus, Ratio, Numerus, Tonus, Angulus, Astra,
which may be translated Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Astronomy. As new discoveries
have been made in science, and as new arts have been invented, endeavors have been made to introduce these discoveries and inventions within the scope of a liberal education,
as additional subjects in the regular course of study. Ethics,
Physics, and Metaphysics, were soon added.
It may help us the better to understand the meaning of the
phrase Liberal Arts, to bring into view, for a moment, the
Mechanic arts with which they were contrasted. These were
likewise formed into a Latin Hexameter verse,BRus, NVemus, Arma, Fabri, VTulnera, Lana, Rates,
which may be translated, Agriculture, Hunting, War, Smithcraft, Surgery, Manufacture of Cloth, Navigation. Besides
these there were many others.
Having said thus much on the origin and meaning of the
term, liberal education, we can easily understand why the
titles, Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts, should be given
to students to indicate the degree of their advancement in the
course of a liberal education.
In order adequately to understand the value and the importance of a liberal education, I would inquire what should
be the end of education? If this is settled, all that we have
then to do in determining the general question under consideration, is to ascertain how far a liberal education contributes
to the legitimate end of education.
The chief end of education, then, is to strengthen, elevate,
and refine the soul, in its intellectual and moral faculties, so
that, as nearly as possible, it shall resemble God in knowledge,
holiness, and happiness.




112
According to this view, education, as a whole, is the business of life, which we are sent into this world to perform. It
is to commence with our intellectual existence, and to be continued until our eyes close in death. Indeed, this world is
to be considered as but a school, in the large sense, in which
instruction is communicated, discipline administered, and rewards are bestowed; and of which, God is the great teacher.
A liberal education, therefore, is only a part of the whole
education which we are receiving in the school of this world;
its value and its importance can be proved by showing that it
contributes to the legitimate end of our whole education.
We know there are some who seem to consider education
to be little more than merely training the bodily powers to
employment in some branch of professional industry. The
parent seems to suppose that if he has made his son acquainted
with some business, in which little more is necessary than a
skilful hand and a practiced eye, so that he is called a good
workman, he has done for him all that is necessary.  Others
regard a good education as consisting merely in the cultivation
and furniture of the intellect.  They make great efforts in
their studies, mainly that they may be the better prepared to
engage with success in the practice of some of the higher professions. Others still regard a good education as consisting
mainly in the cultivation of a graceful expression of the social
feelings in the civilities of life; or, in other words, of those
polished manners which qualify him who has them  to have
intercourse with the world as a gentleman.
We apprehend that great practical evils have arisen from
such narrow and erroneous views in regard to the chief end
of a good education. To this circumstance it is owing that so
many have regarded their education, whatever it may be, as
valuable only as a means of personal advancement. They
regard their education as another would an investment in
trade, as the means of making money, or of gaining influence,
or of being useful in a particular way. Now an education
gained for such a purpose, and adapted to such a purpose,
may, in the issue, prove instrumental in accomplishing such




113
an end. It may enable a man to become rich, or influential;
it may be useful in a certain sphere. But it does not make
good, or wise, or great men. It may make men distinguished
in certain professions, but it will cause them to view everything
in its relation to these professions, and not in its relations to
man or the universe.  It will cause them to be blind worshipers of the idols of the Den, and not the enlightened worshipers of the great Divinities.
For the attainment of a liberal education, it is expected
that a young man, after going through a certain preparatory
course, shall spend four years at college in disciplining his
mind by study, and furnishing it with knowledge.  During
this period it is intended that he shall, in a good degree, be
withdrawn from all professional pursuits; that he shall, if
need be, leave his father's roof, associate mainly with those
who are engaged like himself in the acquisition of knowledge,
and in the improvement of their minds. He joins them, at
first, as a tinmid stranger. He is among them, but not of
them. By degrees he becomes interested in his companions,
in his teachers, in his pursuits. He catches the spirit of the
place. If he makes a good use of his opportunities, he finds
that, in the course of the four years during the forming period
of his character, he has undergone a great change in his
tastes, in his associations, in the frame-work of his mind, and
in its furniture.  And he is never more sensible of this than
when lie pays a visit to the village or the hamlet where he
spent his early years. As he converses with his youthful comrades, who have been stationary while he has been making
progress, he perceives, with some little feeling of vanity it may
be, on his part, and of envy on theirs, that he has left them
far behind in the improvement of his mind.  Remember
that we are speaking of him who, fired with a generous love
of learning, has dedicated days and nights to mental discipline and acquisition: and not of him, who, having assumed
her livery, is ever ready to escape from her service as from a
drudgery.
In order to understand how it happens that this improve



114
ment is made in pursuing a course of liberal education, we
would notice, with some particularity, the studies to which he
attends during his connection with the college.
The Latin and Greek languages col)stitute a large and distinctive part of the course in a liberal education.  In defence
of these we would remark, that men the best qualified to judge
have agreed in exalting them to the high standing which they
now occupy in collegiate studies.  Their opinion of them has
resulted from observation and experience.  One of them has
said that classical literature was the G" ark in which all the
civilization of the world was preserved during the deluge of
barbarism."  The revival of learning, after the night of the
dark ages had begun to pass off, was chiefly but the increased
cultivation of classical literature.  Hence it has happened
that, in every civilized nation of Europe, its literature is formed
upon classical learning as a basis. As we are best acquainted
with English literature we can easily understand that the remark is true so far as it is concerned.  Classical literature
enters into its very structure, and mlakes a constituent part
of it.  Classical learning has -furnished it largely with words,
phrases, allusions, illustrations, sentiments, opinions, reasonings. If from  any piece of elegant English composition we
should, by any analysis, be able to take away whatever of form
and spirit was derived from classical learning, we should, by
so doing, take away all its beauty.  We should leave only the
caput mortuum.  No one could write a history of English literature, springing as it does from classic fountains, without a
knowledge of those languages. No one can adequately understand such a history without the same knowledge. No one
can appreciate the higher branches of English literature,
unless he has been trained in the school of classic literature.
Hence, it has happened that the literati of all civilized
nations of both continents agree in their attachment to classical literature, and insist upon an acquaintance with it as
a prerequisite qualification in a candidate for admission into
the republic of letters. And, if any should endeavor to get
himself enrolled as a free citizen in that republic without this




115
qualification, he would find, as he mingled with the real literati,
the free born citizens, that he was still, in fact, a stranger and
an alien.  Thus they would view him; and thus would he
view himself.
Besides the fact that classical literature is interwoven in
the modern literature of our country, and in that of other
civilized countries, it should be remembered that it can be
defended on tile ground of its own separate and independent
merits.  The Greelk and Latin languages, in prose composition and in poetry, present a standard of taste to which
the student can refer his own productions, and those of
others, in estimating their excellence.  By a standard of
taste, we mean what the human mind, when thoroughly
instructed and improved, approves.  Let the student become
familiar with these models of composition, let him learn to
admire their structure, their order of thought, their graceful
forms of expression, the beauty of their allusions, and the
distinctness of their illustrations, and he will, as a matter of
course, find his taste elevated and refined. If it is asked,
why not go immediately to nature for the improvement of
taste, rather than to these?  We will give several reasons, if
need be, whenever it shall cease to be the approved practice
for modern genius to resort for the cultivation of taste to the
models of Grecian architecture and Grecian sculpture, and
not merely to nature.
Besides the improvement of the taste, every faculty of the
mind is invigorated by the study of the Latin and Greek languages. The memory is constantly exercised in learning the
rules, and in retaining the meaning of words. The reason is
employed and strengthened by applying the rules, by discriminating between the meaning of a word in one place and
its meaning in another. Indeed, it is impossible to arrive
at the meaning of a single passage, without having reasons
pass through the mind. It is impossible to satisfy a competent teacher when reciting to him, without alleging reasons
for the construction that is given to a passage. It is impossible to arrive at the general signification of any important




116
word, without going through a course of inductive reasoning;
that is, the word must be seen in a number of different connexions of thought, and a general signification adopted, that
will include the variety of cases.
We need hardly say, that the habitual contemplation of the
many grand and beautiful objects which are addressed to the
imagination in the classics, can hardly fail to impart to it
activity and vigor.
Such is the advantage of the study of the languages, that
it was justly said by the emperor Charles the Fifth, " to learn
a new language is to acquire a new soul."
Moreover, it should be remembered that the Latin and
Greek are the most perfect languages-unless the Sanscrit is
an exception-ever employed by the human voice for the
communication of thought.  Lord Brougham  says of the
Greek language, "' It traces with ease distinctions, so subtle
as to be lost in every other language. It draws lines where
all the other instruments of the reason make blots. Nor is
it less distinguished by the facilities which it affords to the
poet."
Moreover, in the act of translating from  the languages,
there is a constant effort at composition, so that the pupil thus
acquires a more accurate knowledge of his own language than
he could in any other way, and learns to express himself in
it with perspicuity, precision, and force.  President Dwight
once remarked, that he never knew but one man who could
write the English language correctly, without having studied
the classics.
Besides, in order to understand thoroughly the history of a
nation, it is necessary to become acquainted with its language.
There is such an affinity between language and character,
that if one would understand the language of a nation, in its
origin and derivation, he must understand the history of that
nation. A history of human language is a history of human
nature, in the development of thought, feeling, motive, and
action. Language is the index of character, and it is recognized as such-, not only by men in their intercourse with each




117
other, but likewise by the omniscient judge of all. Even the
vocabulary of a nation, independently of its combinations,
shows something of the national character; as, for instance,
the great number of weapons of attack and defence found in
the columns of a Latin dictionary, proves that the Romans
were a warlike people.
Finally, the classics are of service to the student in the lofty
sentiments of patriotism which they contain.' The public
obligations stood in the foreground of all the ancient morality.
The idea of the commonwealth as the supreme object of his
duty and his solicitude, attracted to itself the strongest emotions in the breast of every virtuous man." This cannot but
have a favorable effect in counteracting that supreme selfishness which is the fashion of the present times.
We know it is said that translations will answer every
important purpose. This can be said only by him who knows
not the difference between the original and the translation.
A translation-to borrow an illustration from Don Quixoteis to the original what the wrong side is to the figured side of
the tapestry.
An objection is sometimes made, that the influence of the
classics, in their exhibition of vice, is corrupting. In reply,
we would say, that the evil, whatever it is, is open and undisguised, and, therefore, is not as injurious as many of the
novels, much of the poetry, and many of the newspapers of the
present day.
It is said that, in the study of the classics, too much time
is wasted upon words. In reply, we would say in the language of the French minister, L" words are things."
These are a few considerations which go to show the
importance of the classics in a course of liberal education.
Opposition has been made to them at different periods, only
in the issue to show their excellence, and to increase the study
of them.
The mathematics make a part of the course in a liberal
education. Opposition has been made to them, though not
with the same violence as to the classics, for the reason that




118
the various applications of this science to the practical arts of
life manifest its importance even to those who see no value in
it for the discipline of the mind. Still, however, the question
is asked, Why should a student be compelled to devote years
to the acquisition of a species of knowledge which is useful only
as it enables him to become acquainted with astronomy, navigation, and other sciences, into which mathematics enter, when
he expects neither to calculate eclipses, nor to take an observation, nor to make any practical use of those sciences?
What has stereographic projection to do with law, or geometry
with physic, or conic sections with divinity? Questions like
these betray great ignorance of a superior education, and likewise of the relation of one branch of knowledge to other
branches.  The truth is, 6 everything throws light upon
everything."  It is a remark of Fontenelle, quoted with approbation by Dr. Thomas Brown, that a work of morals, of
politics, of criticism, and even of eloquence, will, if other circumstances have been the same, be the more beautiful for
coming from the hand of a geometrician.  Such is the connexion of every science with every other, that the more thoroughly
a man is acquainted with any one of them, the better is he
qualified, eceteris paribus, to think, to write, and to speak on
any of the others.
But the grand argument for the study of the mathematics
is found in the discipline it affords to the mind. " By the
consent of all who have had a good opportunity for judging,
it is especially adapted to sharpen the intellect, strengthen
the faculty of reason, and thus prepare the mind for the successful investigation of truth."   Lord Bacon mentions a
writer who, "reflecting that mathematicians being the only
set of men who either maintained no controversies, or, at
least, soon come to a determination of them, hence apprehended that mathematicians alone were possessed of the right
method of inquiry."  Accordingly, he endeavored to apply
the mathematical method to other subjects. Whether it can
be thus advantageously applied, we are not now inquiring.
At least it is true, that minds that have been trained in the




119
study of the mathematics are better prepared  than others for
the investigation of other subjects. It was upon this ground
that Plato said, in reference to entering his school, " Let no
one enter here who is unacquainted with geometry."  Indeed,
it is said, that Plato declared that he would have his disciples
apply themselves to the study of arithmetic, " that they may
learn to withdraw their minds from the ever-shifting spectacle
of the visible and tangible world, and fix them on the immutable essence of things."
The physical sciences occupy a portion of attention during
the college course. Less opposition has been made to these,
and, therefore, less is demanded in the way of' defence. We
need not say how desirable it is that the sympathies of the
soul should be touched into harmony with external nature.
The subjects connected with these sciences are valuable, as
tending to produce a habit of observing the various phenomena and the general laws of nature.  In connexion with
natural theology, the study of nature tends to repress a spirit
of arrogance, and produce simplicity of character.
The practical application of these sciences to the arts of
life, in the increase of the products of agriculture, mechanical
and commercial industry, is attended with so many obvious
advantages, that even the opposers of colleges make very
little opposition to them.  We speak of them  now only as
what should be known by every man who pretends to a
superior education.  The composition of matter disclosed by
chemistry, the laws of motion disclosed by mechanical philosophy, the various forms of vegetable, animal, and mineral
existence, as disclosed by natural history; the present
state and the past history of the globe we inhabit, as disclosed by geology; the condition and laws of the planetary
and stellary systems, so far as they are understood, are appropriate subjects of inquiry for every rational mind; and no
man unacquainted with them  can be considered as liberally
educated.
The study of ourselves, considered as individual and social
beings, makes a part of the course of a liberal education.




120
The study of the laws of the human mind, of human obligations and relative duties, of our individual character, and of
the structure of society, deserves the attention of every man
who aims at a superior education, as the bare mention of
them must show. rP'Ot Oeav7rY e eoelo deseendit. Who would
willingly remain ignorant of what the great masters of reason
have written on the character of the understanding, on our
speculative and our active powers, on the laws of association,
on the will, on conscience, on the affections and passions?
Who would willingly remain ignorant of what the great
teachers of morals have written concerning man as a member
of society, and the obligations which he owes to the family,
to the community, and to the nation with which he is
connected? Who would be willing to have all such books
as Locke, and Stewart, and Paley, struck from the list of
studies?
In our estimate of a collegiate course of study, we are to
bear in mind that it is the object of that course to lay the
foundation, not to raise the superstructure; to give a liberal,
not a professional education.  Undoubtedly many studies
might, with advantage, be added to the list; still we should
consider, that though many more should be added, there would
many remain behind.  All cannot be included.  "Life is
short, and art is long."  There must, then, be a selection,
and the only question is, what studies should be prescribed?
In reply, we would say, that such studies should be prescribed,
and such modes of instruction adopted, as are best adapted to
fix the attention, to direct the train of associations, to guide
the judgment in the investigation of evidence, to awaken and
control the imagination, to arrange the stores of memory, and
to animate the powers of genius.  And if the studies are
properly used which are prescribed in most of the colleges,
these results will be produced.
The students, as they meet together two or three times a
day, to recite and to hear recitations; to hear lectures and to
see experiments, as well as to attend upon text-book instruction; as they pursue their studies at one time alone, at an



121
other with their room-mates; as they are forced to give reasons
in the recitation-room as well as to make statements; as they
have intercourse with those who are in the same circumstances
with them, who meet with the same difficulties, or who have
passed through them; as they discuss subjects in classes, or
before the societies-do, as a matter of fact, learn to study,
learn to think, learn to speak. We never knew of an individual who made a good use of his advantages during a four
years' residence at any respectable college, who was not ready
to say that he had derived great benefit in the improvement
of his mind. We could summon, if need be, a cloud of witnesses, both of the living and the dead, to bear testimony in
favor of a collegiate education. "They would tell us of those
powerful correctives of singularity and frowardness which are
found in the attrition of mind against mind, on a spot where
different classes live together under a system of general discipline; of the force of established rules in producing early
habits of regularity and decorum; of the strong though easy
yoke that is thrown over the impetuosity of youth; of the
propensity of the heart, unassailed by care, to form the best
friendships and from the best motives; of the efficacy of oral
instruction diligently communicated; of the competitions
that will arise among numbers whose judgments on their respective qualifications are too frequent to be eluded and too
impartial to be resisted."
Thus Dr. Parr, speaking of Bishop Lowth, says: " He had
been educated in the university of Oxford; he had spent years
there in a well regulated course of discipline and study; and
in the agreeable and improving commerce of gentlemen and
scholars; in a society where emulation without envy, ambition
without jealousy, contention without animosity, incited industry
and awakened genius; where a liberal pursuit of knowledge
and a genuine freedom of thought was raised, encouraged, and
pushed forward by example and by commendation." These
are the natural feelings of a son towards his alma mater. "A
liberal mind will," says Gibbon, " delight to cherish and celebrate the memory of its parents; and the Teachers of Science
are the parents of the mind."




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A similar feeling we entertain, almost as a matter of course,
towards certain favorite authors with whom we became acquainted during our connexion with college. And here we
cannot do better than to quote a passage which we lately met
with in an article on a different general subject. "Nothing
can be more natural than that a person of sensibility and
imagination should entertain a respectful and affectionate
feeling towards those great men with whose minds he had, in
their works, daily communion.  The debt which he owes to
them is incalculable. They have guided him to truth. They
have filled his mind with noble and graceful images. They
have stood by him in all vicissitudes. They have been his
comforters in sorrow, nurses in sickness, companions in solitude. Time glides by. Fortune is inconstant. Tempers are
soured. Bonds which seemed indissoluble, are daily sundered
by interest, by emulation, by caprice. But no such causes can
affect the silent intercourse which.we hold with the highest of
human intellects, These are the old friends who are never
seen with new faces, who are the same in wealth or in poverty,
in glory or in obscurity."@
Having spoken of the importance and value of a liberal
education, chiefly in regard to its influence upon the individual,
in elevating his intellectual, and ripening his moral nature;
we proceed to inquire concerning its value and importance in
qualifying him to be useful to his fellow-men, in the relations
of society.
In order to do justice to this subject, we would remark that
the opposers of learning have said that a philosopher is one
who studies everything and does nothing; that he is an intellectual miser, who hoards up his stores of knowledge, without
any disposition to impart them  to others.  They have said
that the tastes and habits of a literary man disqualify him for
acting his part in the drama of crowded life, with pleasure to
himself or with advantage to others.  There is a fascination,
say they, in literary pursuits, which is apt to make men forget
the duties they owe to society. While reposing in the soft
* Review of Bacon, Edin. 1839.




123
shades of retirement, and inhaling the fragrance of the balm
diffused around them, they are in danger of giving themselves
up to a sort of luxurious indifference, and to think very little
of the part God calls them to act in the busy scenes of life.
Or, if they are not so much absorbed in the pleasures of these
pursuits as to forget that man, as an active being, has important duties to perform, they are still prone to look upon these
duties as somewhat irksome and unworthy of their elevated
and refined regard. They attach a sort of vulgarity and repulsiveness to the every day business of a man who is going
through the drudgery of active life.  When the mere man of
letters sees the statesman, for instance, toiling amid the dry
documents of finance, and projecting schemes for the promotion of mere national wealth, how apt is he to be disgusted
with the employment, as destitute of everything that can
charm  the taste, or quench the thirst for knowledge. Here
are no shady groves, nor winding rivulets, no Castalian fountains nor Arcadian landscapes; the rugged paths of business
are not the creation of fancy. They call for the sober toils of
intellect, working its way through a long process of thought
and calculation, and putting to flight the images and delights
of classical associations.
In some such language as this, the opposers of learning and
of literary men, have expressed their opposition. Or they will
select such an instance as Gray, the poet, who spent his life
in the enjoyment of the luxuries of literature, in seclusion from
the busy world, as a fair illustration of the injurious effects of
learning.
Now we are ready to grant that some who have distinguished
themselves in the walks of learning, have proved that they
were entirely unqualified for the duties of active life. It may
be true of the proud, shy poet, just mentioned, that he was
no better qualified for the duties of active life, than he was
to excel in horsemanship, having never, it is said, in his life,
mounted a horse. It may be true that Bacon, the great philosopher, never ought to have been Lord Chancellor, and that
Addison ought not to have been Secretary of State. It may
16




124
be true that Gibbon never distinguished himself in the House
of Commons, nor Byron in the House of Lords. It may be;
true that some have plodded in their closets until, like the
"4 great owl, or the little owl," they cannot bear the strong
light of.public life. But for these few, we can point to thousands who have drunk copiously from the fountain of learning,
and, like a " giant refreshed by wine," have felt themselves
invigorated by the draught.
It hardly needs to be mentioned, that the great points to
be gained in the course of a liberal education, are the discipliine andffurniture of the mind; expanding its powers, and
storing it with knowledge. And the question at the present
moment is, whether a person who has disciplined his mind
by exercise, and furnished it with knowledge, is better prepared to bless mankind by his efforts than one who has not?
This question resolves itself in the very statement of it. According to the views already presented, a liberal education, as
obtained at college, is only the foundation of a superior education, the superstructure of which is to be raised and finished
by the individual himself, in subsequent life.
Then a liberal education is important as a preparation for
professional education, and is in this way valuable as a means
of usefulness. We do not mean that this is true in regard to
every profession. Some professions in the minute sub-divisions
of labor, instead of demanding much mental discipline, require
little besides bodily strength and activity. Some professions,
however, on the other hand, require, in order to excel in them,
all the discipline and all the knowledge that a liberal education can furnish.
This is true eminently of what are called the learned professions. This is true of the profession of law; which requires,
in order to understand its distinctions and to comprehend its
principles, an intellect sharpened by exercise, and enlarged
by study.  It requires a mind trained to the analysis of
thought; trained to the interpretation of language; trained
to a correct and graceful expression of opinions and sentiments.




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Moreover, if great thoroughness of legal education is desired,
a knowledge of the Latin language is indispensable; inasmuch
as a thorough legal education is utlattainable without the study
of Civil Law, which is the term  used for Roman Law.*  No
one can successfully study Roman Law, without an acquaintance with the Latin language.  Roman Law, it is
acknowledged, affords the example of a completer and more
self-connected system than the jurisprudence of any modern
nation can exhibit. Evidently a minute and comprehensive
knowledge of that system, in its principles and their application, cannot be acquired without a philological knowledge
of the language in which this law is written; and an historical knowledge of the circumstances under which it was
developed.
Besides, many of the law maxims, and moreover, the decisions of the English courts, which are Common Law, were
made by men whose minds were intimately conversant with
classical literature, and trained to habits of mathematical
demonstration, logical precision, and rhetorical illustration;
the most of them were made by men educated at the universities.  To enter fully into their labors, it is necessary that
the mind of the student should be trained as theirs were. So
beneficial are the mathematics which contribute to this training, that many have been ready to say, that they learned
how to state an argument extemporaneously from  being
obliged to give demonstrations of mathematical propositions,
while in college.  Indeed, one of the most distinguished;
and successful advocates in our land was accustomed immediately before going into court to make some great plea,
to demonstrate a difficult proposition in Euclid as a mental
preparation.
It should be remarked, in this connexion, that such is the
advantage of a liberal, in the way of preparation for a professional, education, that in some of the states and in some of
the courts a longer period of study by two years was required
for admittance to the bar, for those who have not, than for
those who have been graduated at a college.
* Many of the terms used are expressed in the Latin Language.




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What is true of the profession of law, is, to a large extent,
true of that of medicine. " Among the most illustrious scholars, since the revival of letters, no inconsiderable number of
them  have been physicians."  Formerly, indeed, all medical
works were written in Latin. Though this is no longer the
case, still traces of this language are frequent in all valuable
medical works. But the intellectual training in colleges will
be of great service to the physician in teaching him to reason
upon correct principles, concerning the nature of various diseases and the modes of their cure. Moreover, in the natural
sciences, he becomes acquainted with facts and principles that
are of great value in their immediate application in the practice of his profession. Thus, in the discipline of mind and in
the knowledge furnished by a liberal education, will he, when
called to exercise the divine art of healing, have resources,
which will supersede the necessity which some feel themselves
to be under of resorting to the arts of quackery and imposture. We have never heard of a physician, liberally educated,
who adopted the Thomsonian practice, though it is possible
that there are those thus educated who have done so, inasmuch as there are quacks in all professions.
The profession of theology peculiarly demands the preparation furnished by a liberal education.
What is Protestant theology but certain doctrines and
precepts drawn from the Bible, by the application of philology and criticism? And how can this philology and criticism be applied without a profound knowledge of the language and history of the ancient world?  Learning is necessary in order to discover the evidences of Christianity; to
examine the miracles that were performed; the prophecies
that have been fulfilled; the correspondence between sacred
and profane history; the harmony of the doctrines revealed
with each other and with inature. Revelation being conveyed
to us in written language, cannot be understood in its import
without a knowledge of the laws of interpretation. To understand the laws of interpretation, as applied to the Bible, an
intimate acquaintance with language generally, viz., in those




127
points in which all languages agree, is necessary. Besides
this, there are interpolations, and omissions, and various readings in the text; there are conjectural emendations; and profound learning is necessary to judge of these. Moreover, a
man's mind, who enters the ministry, must be disciplined by
study to take in a wide view of divine truth, so that he shall
be consistent with himself in his statements.
And, besides all this, it should be remembered that, in the
Greek church and in the Roman Catholic church, men of
learning have taken care of the sacred codes; have defended
them; have examined them; have enforced their truths on
the consciences of men; have transmitted them to us; and
no one can adequately understand the history of the doctrines
of the church, or church history in general, or the lives and
characters of good men of past ages, or enter into their
labors, without having disciplined his mind and stored it with
knowledge.
And in addition to this, it should be remembered that "in
Germany the Reformation proceeded from, and was carried
through by, the Academical Divines; the princes, the cities,
and the people only obeyed the impulse first given and subsequently continued from the universities. In its. origin, the
religious revolution was, in the empire, a learned revolution,
and every permanent modification and every important movement had some learned theologian for its author.  From
this circumstance, the determination of religious opinions
then was naturally viewed as a privilege of erudition-as more
the function of the universities than of the church, the people,
or the State."
In order to understand the history of the Reformation and
the doctrines of the great Reformers, in order to appreciate
the value of their labors and the excellence of their character,
in order to accord to such men as Luther and Melancthon
the admiration which is their due, it is necessary to enter into
their spirit, to drink at the same classic fountains at which
they drank.
The great lights of the English church were men who had




128
enjoyed the advantages of an education at either Oxford or
Cambridge. The divines who gave a character to the religion
of New England, were men liberally educated.
It was originally intended that the priest's lips should keep
knowledge, and that the people should seek the law at his
mouth. The great and important subjects that he was required to investigate, pertaining as they do to the character
of God and his moral government, and the duties and destinies
of men, require the best human talents, improved by the highest cultivation. Besides this, he is required, in his official
duty, to come in contact with his people at many points; and,
therefore, at all points should he be armed with the truth, that
he may give to every one a portion in due season.
It has long been a favorite opinion of ours, that ministers
should take an active part in the great cause of popular education; and in order to do it successfully, they must themselves be thoroughly educated.
As we attach importance to this opinion, we shall dwell on
the arguments in support of it with some particularity.
Our first argument is derived from the nature of Christianity. It is a religion which addresses accountable beings
through the medium of their intellect; and just in proportion
as you improve their intellect, will you enlarge their capacity
of being influenced in their moral nature by the power of
divine truth. Now, as we know that Christianity is a general
provision for the spiritual wants of all mankind we may be
sure that all classes of the community ought to experience so
much of intellectual cultivation as shall qualify them to receive
the benefit of that provision.
Other religious systems were designed, at least in some of
their parts, for only certain privileged orders in the community; while the many, the ot  roXXol, as they were styled by the
Greeks, were excluded from a participation. Those systems
had their exoteric doctrines, which were communicated to
the common people; and their esoteric doctrines, which were
communicated only to the few, to the initiated, as they were
styled.




129
But among Christians it is not so. To the poor the gospel
is preached; to them it is given to know the mysteries of the
kingdom.  Now, in order that this preaching be effectual
in any high degree, in order that these mysteries be understood adequately, mental cultivation is necessary. Evidently
it is the duty of the minister to endeavor to promote the
intellectual improvement of those who may come within the
sphere of his influence; for, in accomplishing this, he is preparing them to understand and appreciate the truths and duties
of religion.
Our second argument is derived from the character of Protestantism.  The right of private judgment, in opposition to all
human claims to a dictatorial authority in matters of faith, is
an essential article in Protestantism. Now, this single fact
that we call no man master, is proof that the followers of
Christ are regarded as being capable of forming an opinion
for themselves; and, in order to form a correct opinion, some
degree of mental cultivation is necessary.
The Roman church, on the other hand, acted on the principle that ignorance is the mother of devotion; as well she
might, since an implicit faith in her decisions was enforced
on all her adherents. Indeed, in certain periods of that hierarchy, when men seemed to consider religion and philosophy
as mortal enemies of each other, that what is philosophically
true may be theologically false, carbonaria fides, or implicit
faith, was, in fact, the faith of a large part of that church.
But the Reformers, in opposition to this, took the ground
that the Bible is the religion of Protestants; and, in doing
this, they virtually declared themselves in favor of elevating
the condition of the great mass of the people up to suclh a
level that, in the exercise of the right of private judgment, in
the formation of their religious opinions from the Bible, they
would not wrest it to their own. destruction. It is true, that
what is now understood by the term  popular education, was
not then thought of as practicable. But they adopted such
principles, and pursued such a course in diffusing intelligence
among the people, as justifies us, so far as their authority is




130
concerned, in promoting the cause of popular education.
Romanists might commit the error of opposing revelation to
reason, and in so doing, might extinguish the light of both;
but Protestants, if they are true to their principles, must bestow the greatest possible cultivation on reason, in order that
the truths of revelation may be the more distinctly seen and
the more deeply felt.
Our third argument is derived from the practice and principles of our Puritanforef athers. Besides the general principles of Protestantism, they adopted extensively the opinion
that the people were capable of self-government in political
and religious affairs, and this implies that they should be educated. In accordance with this, they adopted measures for
the establishment of common schools and a college. In eleven
years after the settlement of Massachusetts the foundation of
Harvard College was laid; and in seventeen, the system of
fiee schools was organized. The clergy of those times were
active not only in procuring the establishment of these institutions, but likewise in sustaining them.  As teachers, as
patrons, and visitors of the schools and the college, they exerted a controlling and salutary influence.
Our fburth argument is drawn from the example of some
excellent ministers in our own recollection.  They avowed
and acted on the principle that they were under the same
obligation to lend their aid in fitting young men for college
that they were to preach the gospel.  Many of thenm taught
school during the winter for the young people of their congregations. The consequence was, that these thus became
acquainted with their minister, esteemed him, respected him,
and in subsequent years sustained him. This was the course
of some of the best ministers of tile land.
If, then, it is the duty of ministers to promote the cause of
popular education, and generally to elevate the public taste
and to refine the public sentiment, they ought to qualify
themselves to do it by educating themselves as thoroughly as
possible.
For professional education and for success in all the higher




131
professions, a liberal education is a most valuable preparation.
Unless a man learns to look abroad upon the wide fields of
literature and science, before he engages in professional life,
he probably never will do it. And even though he should
become somewhat eminent in his profession, still this will
only show his ignorance on other subjects the more.
Now and then there are splendid exceptions to this general
remark.  Such a mall as Franklin, or Patrick Henry, or Nathan Smith, can be cited to show that a man may, by the
force of his native genius, by industry, and by the power of
concurring circumstances, raise himself to a high standing in
influence and respectability among his fellow-men without the
aid of a collegiate education.
But it should be remembered that these men would never
have been what they were, if there had been no colleges in
the country. " When an elevated standard of education is
maintained by the higher literary institutions, men of superior
powers who have not had access to them, are stimulated to aim
at a similar elevation by their own efforts, and by the aid of
the ligllt that is shining around them. They catch the thought,
the spirit, and the language of those with whom they are conversait, and thus, perhaps, through them, receive some of the
advantages of a collegiate education."
Besides, the general fact has been that these very men who
have thus risen, have been deeply sensible of the disadvantages under which they labored from the comparative
deficiency of their early training, and have been the advocates of a liberal education.  Henry Clay, in some of his
passages at arms with John Randolph, when taunted by him
on his incorrect use of a certain word, referred with tears to,
the difficulties he had experienced from the want of a liberal
education such as the other had enjoyed.  General Washington left a legacy for the establishment of a national university.
But it is alleged that all that we have said is the mere offspring of prejudice in favor of a system that is old and which
ought to be given up for something new.
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132
On this point we cannot do better than to quote a passage
which had a somewhat different application:-" One of the
most foolish whims of this age is to deride the old. Those
who are absurd enough to do so, forget, or perhaps never
knew, that there lies deep in the human heart an inextinguishable reverence for the past. As time goes on, all the
meannesses that encompass human life disappear, and the
grand features in the characters of the ages alone remain as
objects of our contemplation. The venerable forms of antiquity stand before us in severe relief, and we bow down ill a
willing homage of the heart to their unutterable majesty. The
past is sacred. It is set beyond the revolutions of nature and
the shifting institutions of man. He who would destroy this
treasury of the human heart and mind, by rudely assailing our
reverence for the old, would rob human life of half its charm
and nearly all its refinement. Let no enthusiastic student,
then, permit his ardor to be chilled by the fear that his love
has been wasted on an unreal thing; that lihe has been bewildered by an idle dream; and that he has lost much precious
time which ought to have been given to the stirring interests
of the present; for he may rest assured that the study of antiquity has a noble power to elevate his mind above the low
passions of the present, by fixing its contemplations on the
great and immortal spirits of the past "
Go on, then, we would say to every student in college, go
on with good courage and not be troubled because, while in
college, you are required to study some ancient authors, contemplate some ancient truths, and because collegiate systems
of instruction are ancient. Let your minds be well disciplined
and well furnished, and you need not fear but that you will
have abundant opportunities for usefulness and success. Never
was there a fairer field for enterprise than that which lies before you. And, as you look out from the retreats of science
upon the sunny fields, the green valleys, and broad plains of
your country, you hear a thousand voices inviting you to come
forth and apply the mental stores which you may gain here
to increase the stock of human virtue. A thousand hearts




133
will welcome you into professional life, if you carry with you
the desire to be useful.
In the mental history of many of the most useful and suce
cessful, who have distinguished themselves in the way of
benevolent action, it appears that they formed their principles
of action while in college as well as acquired those means or
qualifications for usefulness.  In forming your moral and
religious principles of action, you enjoy great advantages in
the quiet and calm of your situation. Your interests here do
not interfere with the formation of correct principles, as they
will when you come into the employments of professional life.
Let your desire to serve God and bless mankind grow up
under your cultivation, in your hearts, as a permanent principle of action. Carry out into the world with you, when you
go, a benevolent heart, what stores you can acquire, and a
philosophic spirit. Having learned in the retirements of collegiate life to scale the high abode where truth has reared
her awful throne, having consecrated your acquisitions, at
the foot of the cross, to the service of Him who hung thereon,
you will in your earthly progress move in a halo of glory
brighter than that which encircles the hero's brow. And, when
coming years shall have gathered you to the great home of
the dead, to rest from the toils both of studious and of active
life, you will, with enlarged capacities and with stores of heavenly knowledge, enter into a brighter scene of action, where
you will forever " drink the spirit of the golden day and triumph in existence."
Having spoken of the value and importance of a liberal
education; first, in its influence in elevating and refining the
intellectual and moral character of the individual; secondly,
in its influence in preparing him for a professional education,
that he may act his part among men usefully and successfully;
we are next to speak of it in reference to the practical application of the truths communicated during the course. We
have dwelt hitherto chiefly on its value and importance as a
discipline to the mind; we shall now speak of the knowledge
communicated to the students, and through them to the comnmunity at large.




134
This knowledge is frequently underrated in some such language as this: "' one ounce of common sense is better than a
pound of college learning;" " one grain of mother-wit is better than a bushel of book knowledge."  And in illustration
of the truth of such assertions, the visionary schemes of learned
men are collated with the practical skill of self-taught men,
for the sake of throwing contempt on the former.
Now, we have no disposition to underrate'"good sense,"
"' motler-wit," or' practical skill;" but, besides these, scientific principles and systematic rules are necessary. And here
we would introduce a quotation from Whateley's Logic, to show
our views of the case: "The generality have a strong predilection in favor of common sense, except in those points in
which they respectively possess the knowledge of a system of
rules; but in these points they deride any one who trusts to
unaided common sense. A sailor, e. g., will despise the pretensions of medical men, and prefer treating a disease by common sense; but he would ridicule the proposal of navigating
a ship by common sense, without a regard to the maxims of
nautical art. A physician again, will perhaps contemn systems of political economy, of logic, or metaphysics, and insist
on the superior wisdom of trusting to common sense in such
matters; but he would never approve of trusting to common
sense in the treatment of diseases. Neither, again, would
the architect recommend a reliance on common sense alone,
in building, nor the musician in music to the neglect of those
systems of rules which, in their respective arts, have been deduced from scientific reasoning aided by experience. And the
induction might be extended to every department of practice.
Since, therefore, each gives the preference to unassisted common sense only in those cases where he himself has nothing
else to trust to, and invariably resorts to the rules of art whereever he possesses the knowledge of them, it is plain that mankind universally bear their testimony, though unconsciously
and often unwillingly, to the preferableness of systematic, to
conjectural judgments." According to this view of the matter, "common sense," and "'mother-wit," and  "practical




135
skill," are not underrated, while science and systematic rules
are exalted to their proper station.
In every age of the civilized world, the conduct and character of the great mass of the community depend on the moral
and intellectual influences which operate upon their minds,
and these influences descend originally from high sources.
They descend from the minds of philosophers, speculating in
their closets, to the minds of those leading men in the community who have the more immediate control of the popular
sentiment; and from them they go down, as from so many
distinct fountains, to the great level of the common people.
Those who are thus engaged in active life cannot, indeed, be
expected to devote much attention to original investigation
in science and literature, yet they may serve as the medium
to transmit to the community the intelligence that comes from
the great lights of the world. We cannot stop to speak of
those bright constellations which, at different times, rose in
the hemisphere of Greece, and shed their choicest influences
upon the great men wlho in public life governed her destinies.
Whence was it that Lycurgus was qualified to compose that
code of laws which laid the foundations of Spartan greatness?
It was from  Thales of Crete, the learned and the wise.
Whence was it that Solon was qualified to give laws to Athens?
"' I grow old," said lie, " in the pursuit of learning." Whence
was it that Pericles became so distinguished as to merit and
receive the name of Olympius? From Anaxagoras the philosopher.
From  the lyceum, the porch, and the grove, there came
forth those statesmen and heroes, furnished with the philosophy of Zeno and Aristotle, who thus, by their superior
knowledge, swayed the minds and directed the energies of
the Grecian states.
Thus has it ever been. Knowledge is power both in the
application of the laws of nature to useful purposes, and in
influencing the minds of men. The abstract principles taught
in ancient schools or in modern colleges have been diffused
more or less extensively through the surrounlding communities.




136
In this way the whole mass of the people becomes more or
less enliglhtened.
In order to show that abstract principles, such as are taught
in colleges, are actually diffused through the community, and
applied to practical purposes, we will refer to the principles
taught by Bacon, the father of experimental philosophy. This
great mall received his education at Trinity College, Cambridge, where, it has been asserted, he conceived the idea of
the inductive mode of philosophizing.  The end aimed at by
Bacon was, to use his own language, "fruit," which means
the mitigation of human suffering, and the increase of humanenjoyment. He was willing that the tree should be judged
by its fruit. Of the method which he pursued, and which he
proposed to others, for the interpretation of nature, and entitled Novum Organon, this is the fundamental axiom, "As
man is but the servant and interpreter of nature, he can work
and understand no farther than he shall either in action or
contemplation observe the proceedings of nature, to whose
laws he remains subject." This mode of philosophizing was
adopted by Newton, both when a student and when a professor at Trinity College, Cambridge, with great success; as it
has been since by multitudes of teachers in colleges, academies,
and common schools.  Thus it has happened that almost
every intelligent man in the community understands something
of what is termed the Inductive Philosophy of Bacon. Reflect, for a moment, upon the value of the fruits of his philosophy in every science, whether physical or moral; in every art,
whether liberal or mechanical. Think of what it has done in
the investigations of the heavens, in the sublime science of
astronomy, and in the application of that science; of what it
has done in the investigation of the crust of the planet we inhabit, and of the various tribes of animate and inanimate
existence.  Think of what it has done in mechanical and
chemical philosophy; how it has guided the thunderbolt to
the earth; how it has enabled man to descend into the depths
of the sea, and to soar into the air; to traverse the land in
cars that whirl along without horses, and the ocean in vessels




137
which are propelled against the wind. These are some of the
fruits of his philosophy, in its application to science and to art.
The abstract principles which lie brought forward into notice
being adopted by kindred minds, and by them communicated
to others, or applied to practical purposes, have revolutionized
the world in philosophy and the arts.
In illustration of the same fact, we may take the instance
of the Newtonian philosophy. At first it was taught, in its
general principles, in the universities of Great Britain, and
from them was introduced into the universities of the Continent. In the progress of time, a knowledge of these principles was diffused through the community in many parts of
the civilized world. This has been done, for the most part,
by those who have enjoyed the advantages of a liberal education, as teachers, or as the writers of popular works; and
what is true of this is true of the physical sciences generally.
As a further illustration of the same general fact, we may
take the instance of the philosophy of Locke. This philosophy has had a powerful influence in forming the opinions
of men in regard to the laws of the human mind; in regard
to government, morals, religion, and education. He was educated at the university of Oxford, and was distinguished
there as a scholar. His works have been studied in the universities and colleges of Great Britain and this country, and
in this way have exerted a controlling influence upoI the
minds of men.
To take another case. It is now, perhaps, forty years since
the president in one of the colleges in South America conceived the design of spreading through the province in which
it was situated, correct principles of civil liberty. Accordingly,
with the injunction of secresy, he put into the hands of the
most promising scholars in each class in succession, one of
whom related to us this fact, certain books, which were proscribed by the laws, on the ground that they were hostile to
arbitrary power.  These scholars, carrying with them the
principles of liberty derived from this source into active life,




138
have since kindled the watchfires of revolution, which burned
so brightly among the hills and valleys of the Andes. And
they are now engaged in establishing the civil institutions of
the country in accordance with those principles of liberty
which they imbibed during their residence at college.
The results of ethical and metaphysical speculations are
equally obvious and striking.  They have, in like manner,
through the colleges as their appropriate medium, a powerful
influence in forming the mind and coloring the intellect and
moral principle of all thinking men. The works that came
forth from  the universities of Scotland, in rapid succession,
from such men as Reid, Stewart, Brown, and Hamilton, have
effected a revolution in intellectual philosophy no less important than that which was produced by the writings of Locke.
Rousing themselves from the lethargy that had long reigned,
they awoke the slumbering intellect also of Great Britain,
and excited a spirit of investigation, and gave an impulse to
knowledge, that continue to the present day. They were a
light kindled in the North, whicll, like the glorious emanations
on a summer's night, spread far and wide over more southern
latitudes.
Our limits do not allow us to show how the systems of
philosophy, as adopted by men liberally educated and taught
in universities and colleges, have, in successive ages, influenced the faith of the Christian church.  Nor can we find
room to show the great value of an acquaintance with the
laws of nature, in their application to the useful arts; how it
prevents us from  attempting impossibilities; how it enables
us to accomplish our ends in the easiest, shortest, and most
economical manner. We need not appeal to the triumphs of
practical mechanics, which, for the most part, is a scientific
art, nor to the wonderful transformations wrought by chemistry, nor to the application of the science of astronomy to the
art of navigation.
But it is said that many of the most successful and important applications of science to the arts, were made by men
who were not liberally educated. This was readily admitted;




139
but still it is true that colleges and men liberally educated
must come in for their share of honor and merit for these
applications. For instance, Fulton had not enjoyed the advantage of a college education, and yet he was the inventor
of the application of steam to propelling boats. But it should
be remembered that Fulton was upon intimate terms with the
celebrated Duke of Bridgewater and with Lord Stanhope, both
of whom had a superior education; that he resided some time
in Paris with that elegant scholar, Joel Barlow; that he made
himself acquainted with the French, Italian, and German languages; that lie acquired a knowledge of the high mathematics,
physics, chemistry, and perspective; that he was associated
with Chancellor Livingston,-whose mind was enlarged by
education,-in the enterprise of employing the steam-engine
in navigation. It is said of Watt, who brought the steamengine to a high degree of perfection, that, though he had not
received a liberal education at a university, he was conversant
with all the wonders of natural philosophy, and was the pupil
and intimate friend of Professor Black. And he often acknowledged that his first ideas on this subject were acquired
by his attendance on his lectures, and from the consideration
of his theory of latent heat, and the expansibility of steam.
In this way, universities and colleges may claim the honor of
having educated indirectly, through the medium  of their
alumni, many who have been the benefactors of their race, by
the application of science to the arts.
Colleges have thus, directly or indirectly, changed the whole
circle of mechanical employments, from the condition of empiricism to that of scientific art. And, besides furnishing a
vast amount of important inventions, abridging human labor,
increasing human comforts, they have thrown a clear and
strong light upon those processes which had been studiously
concealed under the veil of mystery.
Nor are the services which learning has rendered to morals
and religion of less importance.  It has derived from  the
Bible, in harmony with nature, a system of pure morals and
elevated piety.  It has ever sympathized with the truth,
18




140
and  has ever been  ready to detect and  expose  the  arts  of
men who depend for their success on popular delusions.
The history of colleges in our own country shows that they
were not the patrons of witchcraft, when that was rife in  the
land; that they did not promote the delusions of Mrs.
Hutchinson or of Davenport; that in  them   mesmerism, and
spiritual rappings, and the transient follies of the day find but
few votaries.
Let the colleges, then, in our country take their proper position  in  the  public  estimation, ill connexion with academies,
hligh-schools, and  common  schools, as the  popular and  conservative institutions  of the land, to  be sustained  by public
sentiment and public contributions.
1. OxFonD) UNrIVE:RSITY  OS:or.rissloN.-RCeport of' Her Majesty's Conlnissioners, apljointel to inquire into the State, I)iscipline, Studies, and Revenue of
the University of Oxford, together with the Evidence andl an Appendix; presented to both H-ouses of PI'aliament by commnand of Her Majesty. London:
Printed by W. Clowes & Son, Stamford Street, for Her Majesty's Stationery
Office. 1852.
2. FIVE YEARS IN AN ENGLISH UNIVERSITY.-By Charles Astor Bristed,
late Foundation Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge.'AXA' &,r' /dlpdev (h/r/,roea aaCV/tvdaavv O)l    (o(,60ti. -ARISTOPH.  Aves. 376.  Second edition.  New
York: Putnam & Co.  1852.




141
OBITUARY NOTICE OF PROFESSOR ALEXANDER METCALF
FISHER.
Through the medium of the public prints, our readers have
been apprised of the loss of the packet ship Albion of New
York. We have seldom known an event of this kind, occasion
a wider or deeper sorrow. The line has been celebrated for
its regularity and success; and on the first of April, nearly
sixty persons, of various character and pursuits, presented
themselves on the deck of the ship, and ill the gaiety of their
feelings, as she was getting under way, shouted forth the custoinary animating cheers for a prosperous voyage. 01 the 22d
they all, with the exception of nine, met with their common
fate, as awful as it was unexpected, on the coast of Ireland,
near Kinsale.
No very distinct account of the particulars has been received. It appears that their passage had been pleasant until
the 21st, when the ship encountered and weathered a severe
gale, and the tempest-tossed mariners were cheering themselves with the hope, that in less than two days they should
reach Liverpool, the port of their destination. Early in the
evening she " shipped a sea, which knocked her on her beamends, swept her deck, and her main-mast went by the board."
From not being in possession of proper instruments, they were
unable to clear the deck; and as she consequently became unmanageable, they drifted along at the mercy of the waves, and
subject to all the agonizing agitations of mind, produced by
the alterations of hope and fear, until about twelve o'clock,
when the light of Old Head hove in sight —now the beacon of
their danger, for it told them that they were drifting rapidly
ashore.
About four o'clock, as the day dawned, Capt. Williams, who




142
had made every exertion to encourage the men and preserve
the ship, communicated the dreadful certainty, that no efforts
could possibly save her, and in about five minutes she struck,
and shortly after went to pieces, within a few rods of land.
The shore was rocky and precipitous, rising to the height of
150 feet, and prevented those who were collected on its brow
from rendering much assistance; and amid the confusion and
remaining darkness, which took from  them the means of
safety, or the presence of mind, to use these means, the billows, in their fury, burst in upon their victims, and bore down
to destruction the brave and the beautiful, the man of business and the man of science!
But the ways of Jehovah are mysterious. He hath his path
in the deep waters-and in this awful calamity, involving the
death of so many individuals endeared to their kindred and
acquaintance, and sending mourning into other lands as well
as our own, we would view the hand of the Almighty, though
raised in anger; and even while we are looking upon the
blasted joys of friendship and love, and the withered hopes of
science, we would invite the numerous and widely scattered
bereaved friends to repair with us for consolation to that God
who may hide his face for a moment, but whose loving kindness is everlasting. Yes, we would invite them to go with us
to the mercy seat, and in the language of christian submission,
to say, "' Father, thy will be done."
While we would mingle our sympathies with the sorrows
that flow from so many -hearts, we may be allowed to dwell
more particularly on the fate of one, who contributed to adorn
the pages of this work. We allude to ALEXANDER M. FISHER,
Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in Yale College. He was a native of Franklin, (Mass.) where his parents now reside. Though in the sadness of bereavement, they
may remember him with feelings of exultation, as a dutiful and
affectionate son, who gave early indications of those talents
which were afterwards developed and matured. At the age
of fifteen he entered Yale College, and was distinguished for
his punctual performance of all College exercises, for the delicacy of his moral feelings, and for his success in the various




143
departments of classical knowlidge.  The activity of his
mind, and his unwearied application joined to his success, attracted the notice of the faculty and of his fellow students, and
led those who best knew him, to form pleasing presages of his
future distinction in science.
After taking his degree in 1813, he spent one year in Franklin and one in Andover, in attending to the study of Theology
in its direct and collateral branches.
In 1815 he entered upon the office of Tutor; and he perfarmed its duties with ability, and a spirit that shrunk fiom.
no self-denial, either of instruction or discipline.
In 1817 he was appointed Adjuinct Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy; and two years after he became
sole professor in the same department.
His course in science had been as rapid and successful as
the fondest wishes of his early friends and instructors presaged; and as he had gradually risen in his attainments, and
could thus commnalald a wider and wider field of vision, with
pleasure we beheld him casting his eyes to Europe, the home
of the sciences, and forming the design of going thither to
promote his own improvement, and the welfare of the Institution, and the cause of learning generally in our countryby travel and study, and intercourse with the good and the
great of other lands. After making the necessary preparations to facilitate the attainment of the various objects proposed, and completing his arrangement in such a manner that
the college would not materially suffer by his absence; we saw
him  in all the excitement of departing, with buoyant spirits
and animated countenance, and active step-and followed him
with our wishes and our hopes to the ship-little appreliensive that we' should see his face no more.'
Multis ille bonis flebelis, occidit.
The general sentiment of sorrow, expressed by his personal
friends, and the larger circle of his acquaintance, and the sympathy of the public, bear ample testimony to his high intellectual and moral endowments, and an accurate analysis of a
character of so much worth and promise, would be useful in




144
furnishing fresh motives and facilities to those who are aiming
at the acquisition of learning and virtue. An exhibition of
only a few traits must now suffice.
A prominent trait in his character was a love of investigation. He valued truth, and he sought for it not in the current
opinions of the day, or under the sanctions of illustrious
names. He ascended to first principles in his researches, and
having with cautious diligence ascertained the legitimate scope
of the human intellect, and the proper objects of a rational inquiry, with independence of mind he advanced to his own conclusions, and with confidence in his perceptions, lie trusted to
these conclusions, even though they might clash with received
opinions. He had a taste for whatever is beautiful or grand
in science, and a spirit that was alive to every intellectual excellence, and a fondness for the exercise necessary for its attainment.  In the career of learning it was not merely the applause of the spectators, or the bright prize at the goal; but it
was likewise the effort and animation of the race itself that he
loved. From his connexion with the college, it became his
duty, as it was his inclination, to bestow peculiar attention
upon the exact sciences, yet he never suffered them so to absorb
his mind, as to become magnified beyond their relative importance: and instead of unldervaluing other branches of knowledge, he urged, with a generous warmth, their importance, and
rejoiced in their advancement, and seconded this opinion, expressed to others, by giving variety to his own pursuits.
In his application he was constant and  assiduous.  He
neither changed his objects of pursuit, nor relaxed from the
necessary efforts. We often see men of fine genius wasting
their powers, and failing of success by a too frequent change
of their studies. The ease with which they gain one victory
after another, tempts them to press on to universal dominion,
instead of staying to gain complete possession of a single region. They are diligent, but at the same time desultory.
We often see others failing, not from fickleness, but from a relaxation of effort. Under the influence of some strong, but
transient excitement, they make very rapid intellectual progress; and then the excitement being over, they yield to a




145
natural love of ease, or to the languor of exhausted health.
Both of these evils he avoided; and preserved an unshaken
attachment to the same objects, and an unremitted exertion
to gain them. Believing that there is no royal road to learning, and ambitious rather of the possession, than of the reputation, of excellence, and not finding it necessary to put himself
under the influence of strong feeling, in order to render his
perceptions vivid, and therefore not led to any imprudent
expenditure of spirits and health; he continued a series of
untired efforts, making every day contribute to his stock of
knowledge: and not suffering himself to be led away by the
influence of surrounding objects, or to sink down from indolence, lie went on from one conquest to another, gaining fresh
strength from  every new acquisition.  His mind, which was
highly gifted by nature, by being trained in this course of habitual applicationl, received a high degree of improvement, and
acquired great facility in its operations.
One of its most striking atributes was logical acuteness. At
the same time that lhe possessed sufficient comprehension ill his
views, and was able to examine great subjects in their extensive relations, he was more distinguished for that acute discrimination which enabled him to perceive and adopt proper
distinctions of thought; to detect a fallacy, though brought
forward with all the parade of argumenlt; and to trace with
the rapidity of intuition a succession of premise and conclusion, through a long train of subtile disquisition.
He used sometimes to complain that his memory was treacherous, and failed him in his need.  This however was the case
only with respect to some insulated fact, which was not colnnected by some scientific association. But with respect to
facts or truths ranged under a philosophical classification, or
founded on the relations of cause and effect, premise or conclusion, his memory was retentive, and prompt in assembling
the stores thus arranged.
His imagination, if we consider it as that faculty that is
conversant with the lovely or the grand in the world of nature
or of fiction, anid graphic skill in describing the objects of conception, was neither very active or vivid. But if it be consid



146
ered as that faculty which discovers analogies and relations,
though remote, and the power of summoning with judgment
and taste, the materials of knowledge-furnished not so
much by the senses as by reflection-and of arranging them
with beauty and harmony, for the elucidation of truth —he
was distinguished for the possession of a vigorous and fertile
imagination.
Though accustomed to abstraction and retirement, he still
was remarkable for his talent for philosophical observation.
His mind was habitually attentive to external objects, and
from his own inspection of men and things, he was constantly
collecting useful facts, and connecting the speculations of the
closet with the common business of life, and thus he dignified
the pursuits of philosophy by the high moral aim of rendering
them subservient to the happiness and virtue of our race.
Without remarking upon the variety and extent of his acquisitions in his peculiar province, or in the several departments of natural science, or in metaphysics and ethical philosophy, it may here be mentioned that, in addition to his regular
instruction in the recitations, and his course of experimental
lectures, he likewise prepared a course of written lectures that
evince great ability. Averse to hypothesis, and adopting the
severity of inductive reasoning, his philosophy consisted of a
just comprehension of facts; and without departing firom
the dignity of true science, he demanded all the vigor of attention from his audience; and as he delivered his lectures,
though somewhat rapidly, in a clear medium of thought, perspicuous language and lucid arrangement, though the listless
and the ignorant found little to interest their feelings, those
who were prepared by previous study, and who were willing
to bestow the necessary attention, always carried from the
lecture-room clear and distinct views of the subject.
He was very much in the habit of using his pen as an instrument of thought; and though he died at the early age of
twenty-seven, has left behind him a large collection of writings on various subjects, as a monument of his industry and
talents. He contributed to several periodical publications.
It does not come within the compass of our design to enumer



147
ate his productions. This, it is hoped, will be done by the
hand of anotlher. As a specimen of hlis writings we would refer our readers to the Review of Dr. Brown's Essay.*
His manners in his intercourse with others were unaffected
and pleasing, and while he was not very attentive to the courtly accomplishments and etiquette of fashionable life, which result from extensive commerce with the world, he at the same
time showed himself possessed of genuine politeness,-in his
regard for the feelings of others, in his attention to the wants
and wishes of his friends, not occasional, but constant, and in
the ready surrender of his own convenience. He had that
good will towards those around him, which is manifested, not
so much by a compliance with the mere forms and ceremonies
of the world, as by a continuance of generous and kindly acts,
intended to make them happy.
He was social in his feelings, though his habits did not lead
him extensively into promiscuous society. Possessing neither
those overflowing spirits, nor that desire for display, which
are so favorable to copious conversation, and at the same
time, well acquainted with all the usual topics of elevated discussion, he knew both how to talk, and how to listen. He
was observed very seldom to introduce the topics of his own
profession; his language, however, and his illustrations, and
his arrangement of ideas, showed the influence of his habitual
studies upon his mind.
In his intercourse with his intimate friends, he was companionable and interesting. He was  animated ad sprightly
in his communication, and in his interchange of thought and
feeling, he manifested great purity of purpose, and freedom
from those evil passions that are often repressed in the presence of the public, while in the private circle they are uncontrolled. He indeed appeared to be habitually under the influence of conscience. His daily business or the common avocations of life, he performed, not as the task of a hireling, but
as a labor of love, springing from a high-minded and generous sense of duty. He took a lively interest in whatever con* Christian Spectator, Vol. I., Page 414.
19




148
cerned the welfare of the College, and cheerfully and unceasingly did his part towards its advancement; and produced on
those around him a strong impression of his singleness of purpose, and integrity of motive, in all his actions.
His constitution was delicate, but by regular exercise and
rigid temperance, he preserved his health and mental vigor
and cheerfulness of temper. In addition to his other modes
of relaxation, he attended habitually to music, which he cultivated both as an art and as a science. He found pleasure in
it, not merely from the agreeable associations it awakens, but
from a nice perception of the relations of sound. He entered
deeply into the principles of the science, and contributed to its
advancement, by an essay on Ma.sical Temperament, which appeared in the American Journal of Science, and called forth
expressions of admiration, from such as were able to appreciate its merit, both in this and foreign countries.
He bestowed great and systematic cae in the formation of
his religious opinions, and was very watchful that his conduct
should correspond with his principles. He was accustomed to
ascend to first truths in the formation of his opinions, and it
would therefore sometimes happen that even when he came to
the same result with others, he would not always adopt the
same arghments, or pursue the same course of reasoning. He
was not however of that class who find reason in all opinions,
and truth in none: for though he was apprehensive of danger
in believing too much, as well as in believing too little, he held
with a firm grasp the fundamental doctrines of christianity.
Nor did he consider christianity as a mere system of speculative
doctrines, which is to be admired for its symmetry, and for the
grandeur of its subjects, and to be defended with animated zeal
against the open attacks of its enemies, and the insidious designs
of its professed friends; but as a collection of practical truths,
that should be present to the mind and influence the conduct in
all the common hours of life, that should shed a sanctifying influence over the whole character, send the glow of holy and constant love into the heart, direct the imagination in its wanderings, curb the violence of the animal propensities, and ascending to the intellect, should repress its proud aspirings, and




149
thus elevate and improve the whole nature by enlisting all its
powers in the service of the Redeemer. Forming this high
standard of christian character, and accustomed ill everything
to look rather at his defects than at his good qualities, he was
not in the habit of expressing a strong confidence in his personal piety. Yet his friends may console themselves in their
affliction with the hope, that he has gone to a brighter world,
where his delight in duty will be consummated, and his aspirations after moral excellence will be gratified. We will believe that though the surges of the ocean may continue to
sweep over his remains, that' He who rides in the whirlwind," took his spirit to himself, as it rose from the billow,
and conducted it to the abodes of the blessed.
His body lies on a Foreign strand beneath the dark waters
which chant his dirge first in the wild notes of the storm, and
repeat it ill the sullen murmurs of the calm. But remembrance
of it will haunt that rugged shore of Kinsale to weep over his
early death and gather inspiration for the high purposes of
this life and the life to come.
It is remarkable that Prof. Fisher had a great dread of a
sea voyage.  While the subject of going abroad was pending,
in his daily walks he would express his fears, often in strong
language, and when I attempted to quiet those fears by the
usual arguments, to which he always candidly listened, he
would very often close the conversation by saying:.  Well,
this is all very true, but a certain percentage is lost."
The following lines, at my request, were composed by the
poet James G. Percival:
We ask no flowers to deck thy tomb,
Thy name in purer light shall bloom,
When every flower on earth is dead
And all that bloom below are fled.
To thee, the light of mind was given,
The center of thy soul was heaven;
In early youth, the spirit came,
And wrapped thee in its wings of flameo




150
The lambent light that round thee flow'd,
Rose to its high and bright abode;
And bore thy restless eye afar,
To read the fate of sun and star.
Fain would we think the chain is broke,
That bound thy spirit to its yoke;
That now no mist of earth can bind,
Thy bright, thy pure, and perfect mind.
Thy grave is on a foreign strand,
Thy tomb is in a foreign land;
No kinsman came, no friend was near,
To close thine eye and deck thy bier.
But friends shall gather round thy tomb,
And long lament thy early doom;
And thither science oft repair,
To plant thy choicest laurels there.
The following  lines were written  by the  young  lady to
whom Professor Fisher was engaged:
SUNDAY EVENING, 1822.
Where shall the mourning heart find peace,
Whose every throb is filled with woe,
When shall the aching heart find rest
And bitter tears forget to flow.
Wisdom with kind, inviting voice,
Directs the way to paths of peace,
And points to Heaven th' o'erflowing eye
Where pain shall end and sorrow cease.
But vain her call —the wayward heart,
Its best hopes wrecked-its comforts o'erWanders unhappy and unblestTo Erin's cliffs and dismal shore.
There, while the dark and troubled wave
Hides the dear form for ever lost;
Still hovers'round uncomforted,
Afflicted, lone and tempest tost.
Oh Saviour! at whose sovereign word,
The winds and waves of sorrow cease,
Thou see'st my tears, and hear'st my sighs,
Speak but the word and all is peace.
Be thou my trust, while I resign
The dearest boon thy mercy gave,
And leave my ruined earthly hopes
To Erin's cliffs and Ocean's wave.




151
MEMOIR OF MR. RUFUS WOODWARD.
This sketch of the life and character of Mr. Woodward has
been delayed, in the hope of receiving from Edinburgh, some
farther account of his last sickness and death. With the best
materials, it is sufficiently difficult to write the mental history
of any one, in such a manner that exact justice shall be done
to the deceased for the instruction of others. Especially is it
difficult to unite the faithfulness of a biographer with the affection of a friend: a multitude of mingled feelings come
thronging upon the mind, and fix the attention too exclusively on those features in the character of the deceased, which
won and secured his affection; a crowd of recollections rising
up, demand the recording pen for those passages of his life
only,' connected with the scenes in which they moved together.
His intimate friends cannot, in this delineation, find a portrait distinct and glowing like that which memory has drawn
upon their own hearts; it is hoped that they will find a correspondence with truth, and with " that which they themselves do know."  Others, and especially those whose path
may lie in the walks of contemplative life, may find something to gratify a rational curiosity, and some incentives to
the attainment of kindred excellences of character. The lamented subject of this memoir, was not anxious for the praise
of men while he was among us; and now, so much respect
shall be paid to his memory, as not to bestow unreserved eulogies upon him when dead, that would have pained his modesty when living.
RUFUS WOODWARD, the son of Dr. Samuel Woodward, was
born in Torringford, (Conn.) July 16th, 1793. Residing at




152
home, he had the advantage of spending his early years in a
family much respected for their good sense and amiable disposition; and to this circumstance, as an active cause, must
be referred many of those valuable traits in his character,
which, in subsequent life, were matured by his own exertions.
It appears, that during this period, he showed little of that
precocity of mind which  sometimes indicates genius, but
which, perhaps, more often, is the harbinger of intellectual
impotence. He entered on the studies of childhood with little interest; as is not unfrequently the case with those whose
mental habits, so far as they are formed, lead them to prefer
ideas to words, until from use, the latter, by suggesting trains
of thought in the mind, fully assume their representative
character, and become nearly identified with the former.
When he entered upon the period of youth, he gradually acquired a fondness for study. It was only at the vestibule of
the temple of learning that he discovered any reluctance, for
soon after it appears that lie became a confirmed votary. Mr.
Goodman, in his funeral sermon, says of him,' while other
youths were regaling themselves, during the long winter evenings, with their sports and pastimes, he was often found no
less eagerly engaged by the fire-side, in the acquisition of
knowledge. Study was his pastime from early youth, and intellectual pleasures the pleasures for which he had the highest
relish.'
Having completed his preparatory studies under the Rev.
Dr. Backus, of Bethlem, he entered Yale College in 1812, with
the reputation of an accurate scholar. Describing himself at
this period, he remarks:' I was addicted to no gross vices.
My prejudices against religion were strong. Amongthe most
obstinate early habits with which I had to struggle, was that
of speaking and thinking rapidly and confusedly. I had also
ail early habit of loose and wandering thought which I have
taken great pains to correct. On account of this habit and
that of thinking rapidly, my conversation was rather abrupt,
broken, and deficient in connexion and ease.' Facts, like
these, in his intellectual history deserve notice, because they




correspond with the mental defects of which many are conscious, and which from discouragement they do not attempt to
remove. He attempted with success, and the masters of mental science tell us, that what has been done once may be done
again.
In a very concise account of Ihis college life, after mentioning his successive Tutors with feelings of gratitude, in high
terms of commendation characteristic of each, he proceeds:
" I come now to a man who has been the means of doing me
more good than any individual on earth, except my parents.
Dr. Dwight was a father to us. His instructions formed a sort
of chart for the voyage of life. His example furnished the
sublimest lesson of morality and religion that I had ever seen.
His manners were those of a refined and accomplished gentleman. He was particularly distinguished for possessing a vast
fund of practical information, and for an ability, as well as inclination, to communicate it to his pupils. He had arranged
his ideas in such a manner, that when lie had occasion for one,
all that related to the same point, followed after in quick succession. Perhaps his reliance upon facts was such as to lead him
occasionally into credulity and dogmatism. But take him all in
all, he was a very superior and a very excellent man. Never
while I live and breathe, shall I cease to remember with gratitude, the benefits I received from his instruction and example.
I attended a course of excellent lectures on natural philosophy,
by Professor Day; and of chemistry and mineralogy, by Professor Silliman. I was exceedingly fond of physical science,
and the result of my attention to it has been a total change of
my views of the material world. The charm of this study consists in witnessing constantly a wonderful adaptation of means
to ends. This is particularly true of some parts of chemistry and vegetable physiology. My views of many other subjects, experienced no less change in the course of my college
life. The tendency of the college honors in which I shared,
was to teach me the emptiness of such pleasures, and of hu-.
man applause in general. The example of the officers of college, and the instructions of Dr. Dwight, gave me new views




154
of the subject of religion. Instead of associating with it the
idea of vulgar ignorance, of austere manners, and of a gloomy
life, it assumed an air of cheerfulness, of refinement, and of
an enlightened regard to the welfare of man. An examination of the evidences of Christianity, by Dr. Paley, had also a
powerful influence on my mind. At one time, I hoped I was
aChristian; at another, doubted. * * * On the whole, I
was graduated at college, a very different person from what I
was when I entered; and I rejoice exceedingly that I did
enter. The advantages of a college education, do not consist
principally, in attainments and habits that are completed; but
in commencing habits for life-such for example, as a habit of
reflection, of observation, and of study. A habit of reflection,
particularly, was one of the most valuable that I acquired in
college. It has led me to examine subjects for myself, and
especially to study a subject elementarily.
He was as a student distinguished among his class-mates,
for his diligence and solid attainments; and he drew their eyes
upon him, not as one superior to all others as a scholar, but as
one, who in his love of truth, whether found in speculative, or
practical principles; in his admiration of intellectual excellence, and in his determined pursuit of all the high objects of
a liberal education, showed that lie had within him the elements of a character, which, if brought into contact with favorable circumstances, might be moulded into a form of intellectual strength and moral dignity. Though remarkably
punctual in preparing the required exercises, he seemed to be
governed, rather by a desire to furnish himself with materials
in the acquisition of knowledge, and instruments in the cultivation of his mental faculties, for usefulness in life, than by
any present advantage in the applause of others. Being actuated by such a desire, he applied himself to study under the
influence of a motive that is constant in nature; while those
who are governed only by a desire for a high reputation at
college, though they may make themselves distinguished as
classical scholars, act under the influence of a motive that is
evanescent in its nature, producing no excitement after the
individual has left the scene of his classic triumphs.




155
His deportment was exemplary.  Having taken the station
of a pupil, he had the feelings of a pupil. Having nothing refractory in his temper, he was not inclined to oppose the requisitions of the government, merely because they were requisitions. He was not inclined to regard with a jealous eye,
every change of measures growing out of the necessary change
of circumstances, as an encroachment upon the rights of the
students. He sought for no distinction as the self-appointed
guardian of these rights, by flying in the face of authority.
Nor did he merit the praise of ingenuity, by his skill in evading the laws of the institution. Nor did he belong to that
class of students, who delight in disorder, but have too much
caution to engage in it; and who generously countenance the
thoughtless and excitable ones in those violations of propriety
which they dare not commit themselves. He had no taste for
the beauties of disorder and moral deformity.
"After I was graduated," he says, " I taught an Academy
in Stratford nine months; and one in Wethersfield a year. It
is a very useful employment, and were it not for that consideration, I hardly know what would have supported me
through such labor. No single effort in the business is very
laborious; but it is a constant succession of petty efforts, which
are gradually exhausting the mind of its energy, and wearing
down the constitution.
" I devoted my leisure hours in Stratford, almost exclusively to study.  I occasionally visited the Rev. Mr. D. and Dr.
Johnson."  Of the latter, he remarks, that lie is a venerable
sage of the age of ninety. " He is, on the whole, as venerable an object as I ever beheld. View him at a short distance,
and you would suppose lie must be in the last stages of decrepitude.  Sit down by his side and talk with him, and you
would indeed find him deaf enough, and trembling with age
over the grave; but you would see something within that
looks very much like divine. A mind refined, rich, clear,
comprehensive, benevolent, and astonishingly eloquent. His
very voice is eloquence-clear, trembling, deep-toned, soft,
musical, and perfectly expressive of the internal workings of
his mind.       *  *  *  * My plan of study was as follows:
20




156
-the evening I devoted to the study of some elementary work
of science, such as Stewart's Philosophy, Smith's Wealth
of Nations, &c. I devoted two hours in the morning to the
business of tllinking.  At noon, and after school in the afternoon, I read some leisure book, like Shakespeare, Jolhnson,
Goldsmith, &c. On tile whole I think my attainments made
this year were greater than those of any other year of my life.
The habit of reflection, wllich I commenced at that time, (and
which perhaps I never should have commenced, hlad it not
been for what I had heard from Dr. Dwilght,) I regard as one
of the most valuable that a man can form. I am convinced
too, that the course I then began to pursue, for the acquisition of valuable knowledge, is the best, viz: the study, and
not the mere reading, of elementary works. It is to no very
valuable purpose that we read works of detail, mere matters
of fact, unless we form some general conclusions and principles as we go along; and these conclusions or principles are
already formed, and by masterly minds too, in elementary
works.  We should be careful, however, nlot to adopt these
general principles without due examination. A man, for example, would know more of the science of politics by studying tllorougllly Smith's Wealth of Nations, than by merely
reading in the ordinary way, all the history that was ever
written.
" This year I lost a dear brother.  This was the first time
I ever realized how strong are the bonds of natural affection.
I had, it is true, lost a sister; but I was then young, and she
had not, for that reason, taken so strong a hold of my affections.  My grief on this occasion was exceedingly great;
tlhough I lhope it was mingled, in some degree, with that submission to tlhe divine will which is so becoming the weakness
and dependence of man.
" My time passed away, much in Wethersfield as it had
done in Stratford; though durinlg the latter part of my residence there, I mingled much more in society. It was at this
time thlat I began to keep a common-place book, or at least
such a one as I think on the whole profitable. In one of




157
these, I put down the most important general principles of
a science,-lcaving room under eachll, for those details which
would illustrate the principles, and which I was to put down
in a very abridged form of expression, as they occurred, eitller
in the course of my reading, observation,-or conversation.  My
common-place on political science is an example of tilis kind.
In another, I put down the synopsis of an argument scattered
through an octavo of 300 pages.  My common-place remarks
from Allison on Taste, is an example of this kind. In another, I put down a train of thought, whlich I had made clhiefly
from my own reflections, as in my common-place book entitled'Religious.' My school was an agreeable one; and my acquaintances formed during my residence there, valuable and
interesting."
"October, 1818. Entered on the duties of my new situation,
that of Tutor in Yale College, with great anxiety of mind, under the responsibility laid upon me."
"September, 1821. I am about completing the third year
of my Tutorship, and bidding farewell to my class.  Whlen I
look back, and see how great improvement most of them have
made, I feel a degree of satisfaction which cannot be described. I trust I have not been found unfaithful; though
like all the rest of my conduct, my services have not been. just
wlhat they should hlave been. It requires a great degree of
moral firmness, to keep constantly in view one's duty. I have
been onl the whole much pleased with my situation in college.
It opens a field of usefulness, affords much leisure and time
for study, access to books and to good literary society."
" November, 1822. I left my Tutorship in college last February, principally on account of ill health. I had not enjoyed good health for six or eight years; having had more or
less of the dyspepsia. It originated, I doubt not, in a want of
exercise, and of due attention to my diet.  Students are very
prone to neglect exercise, until they begin to feel the want of
it; and theni it comes almost too late; for the constitution by
that time is usually considerably impaired, and it is difficult
to restore its vigor, so long as one lives a sedentary life. They




158
are not sufficiently attentive also to the quality, and especially
the quantity of their food. Instead of diminishing the quantity
of their food, in proportion to the diminution of their exercise,
as they ought, they eat fast, stimulate their appetites by means
of condiments, &c., and then overload their stomachs.  This
falls peculiarly hard upon those who have commenced their
studies from an active life."
As lie entered upon the office of Tutor with a deep feeling
of responsibility, so he performed its duties with a most scrupulous regard to the general interests of the college, to his brethren in office, and to his immediate pupils. In imparting
knowledge to his division, while he was sufficiently critical ill
the stated exercises, he made it an important object to connect
together the different branches of instruction, and to show
how these are related to the practical duties of life;-that thus
they might make every kind of improvement that would adorn
them as mere scholars cloistered in a college, or as men when
called to a more enlarged theatre of action. Disposed to act
in concert with the other officers, and under the direction
of the laws of the institution, he cheerfiully did his part,
whether of instruction or of discipline.  While he valued the
affection of those whom it was his duty to instruct and to govern, he at the same time appeared to have very little of that
moral cowardice, which shrinks from odium; foir his was the
virtuous mind that is ever attended by that " strong-sidingl
champion,"' -conscience.
November, 1822, he remarks: "From the time I left college,
to the present, I have been devoting my time, as far as has
been practicable, to the recovery of my health. But in vain,
and I am now housingmyself for the winter.  Being pretty well
convinced that the state of my health will not soon admit of my
performing the duties of a clergyman, I have come to a deterruination to devote what little time I can prudently, for the
present, to preparing a course of lectures on political science.
If it should be wanted, very well; if not, I shall endeavor to
do the best I can with it.
6 In the mean time, I hope to be able to do something in




159
the way of writing on theological subjects, and should it ever
be in my power I am resolved at some time or other, to attempt writing a text-book for our colleges, on the science of
moral philosophy."
He still persevered under much that was discouraging, in
using active exertions for the recovery of his health, residing
with his father in Torringford, or with one of his brothers,
either in WNethersfield or Middletown, each of whom, by his
professional skill, was able to assist him  in palliating his disease, as well as by the most affectionate attentions.  Having
derived some advantage from a voyage to Charleston, it was
thought advisable that he should try the experiment still
farther, in a longer voyage; and accordingly, in July, 1823,
he sailed from New York for Europe, where it was hoped that
he might be able likewise to gain some mental advantages in
the prosecution of his favorite studies.
August 2, 182:3.  He writes, "I am at length within a few
hours sail of Liverpool.  You will unite with me in gratitude
to our Heavenly Father that I am now so near the end of my
voyage, in safety.  My health is somewhat improved."
Remaining but a few days in Liverpool, lie visited Glasgow,
Edinburgh, and London, in succession, and in each place lhe
received very gratifying civilities, from the highly respectable
gentlemen to whom he carried letters of introduction.  His
health still continued about the same; for a time apparently
improvinlg; and then he would be visited by a return of an old
complaint that exhausted his strength, and took away the flattering hopes of a recovery that he began to indulge.  After
beginning to recover from the effects of one of these attacks,
he writes to his family friends:
"But I confess it is a little discouraging, and not a little
trying to one's patience and powers of resignation.  To be
sick, too, among strangers —shut up in a little room on the
fourth floor, with but one window, and that through the top,
and not visited by the sympathetic voice of man, woman, or
child, but my chambermaid, for five days, two or three drops
of a fellow-lodger, and the short visits of my physician, my




160
hostess being sick below-this tends to sadden the soul. But
blessed be God, I find I can go tlirough such scenes, though
not —no not with so entire a submission as I could wish, or
oughllt. To be entirely resigned amid long protracted and repeated sufferings, is surely one of the last lessons to be
learned on tlis side the grave!"
It being judged advisable, on account of the climate and
some otller considerations, that lie should speIld the approaching winter in the south of France, he was proceeding thither,
when he was again arrested by hlis complaint at MIontreuil.
" Then," lie says, " I was for a week in a Frencll hotel, with
a servant to wait on me who understands scarcely anything
of the English language, and a chamber-maid whlo knows
nothing at all of it. Indeed, I was pretty much my own physician, my own nurse, and wliat is about as necessary, you will
find, if any of you should ever be sick among strangers, and
especially amollg such strangers as it was my lot to find at
that hotel-my own comforter.  But blessed be God, I am getting better again.  I have to-day got back as far as this place,
Boulogne. I hope to-morrow to reach Calais, thence to sail
back to London, thence to Edinburgh by the first opportunity.
I am, however, a poor, feeble, emaciated creature; and I know
not but a few more such attacks will close my eyes forever on
all that is on this side the grave.  May heaven prepare me for
it, and you too-for I tllink of you abundantly at such times,
and I know full well that you also think of me, and would hlail
my arrival among you onlce more, witli all the sincerity of a
long established and deep devoted affection."
Following up his intention, which the improved state of Iiis
lhealth enabled himr to do, le arrived in Edinburglh about the
1st of November —anxious to avail himself of the advanitages
of attending the lectures in the University, and, as a fiiend
remarks, " esteeming the warmth of Scottisli friendship, in the
present state of his health, more than a counter-balance for
the rigor of a northern winter."
But his studies, his sufferings, and his life, were now very
soon to lhave their close. Thle final scelne is thus described in
a letter from the Rev. Dr. Dickson, of Edinburgh, to Prof. S.




161
My Dear Sir-How uncertain is the tenure by which our
life is held! Your, and I can truly add my highly esteemed
friend, Mr. Woodward, is no more. His mortal remains are
deposited in a land of strangers; but his spirit has, I trust,
been taken to its native lomne, with God and the Redeemer.
This most painful event took place here on AMonday, the 24th
current, and the distressing duty of announcing it to you, and
tlhrough you to his relations, has devolved on me. May the
God of all grace abundantly sanctify to them this peculiarly
severe dispensation of his holy providence, and enable us, my
dear friend, to improve it for our progressive advancement in
Christian godliness. At what time our dear departed friend's
last letter to any of his correspondents in the Uiiited States
was written, I have been quite unable to ascertain.  I shall
therefore give you a shlort statement, gathered from the notes
in his traveling journal, along with what is consistent with my
personal knowledge.  After spending about eight days in Edinburgh, (where I had the pleasure of receiving your letters
of introduction, and showing him  some slight attentions, for
which I felt more than rewarded by the enjoyment I had in
his society and conversation,) lie left tlhis for London towards
the end of August, and remsained there until the 19th of October. During that period, he had formed an acquaintance with
several excellent and distinguished individuals, to whom he
had brought letters of introduction from America; had evidently laid himself out to acquire correct information on almost every subject, whether of science or of religion, and visited several places in the vicinity of the metropolis, though
during the whole time his health appears to have been gradually declining.  So early, indeed, as the 16th September, I
find this entry on his notes: " Am  confined to my bed the
greater part of my time yet-a very great trial of patience and
resignation, to be again prostrated, in a land of strangers, at
so great a distance from home, and with the prospect of a
speedy approach of cold weather.  But may God grant that
some good may come out of my afflictions.  May they serve
to wean me from the world, and to direct my thoughts, and




162
feelings, and motives of conduct, towards him, and that nobler
state of existence promised to the good hereafter."
On the 20th October, he reached Calais, rode next day to
Boulogne, and on the 23d to Montrueil, when he was confined
so as to be unable to proceed. On the 24th, he thus wrote:
"This is a, severe trial of one's power of resignation. I begin
to think I shall not reach the south of France this season,
and if I can get as far as Paris, I ought to feel grateful for it,
and consider myself happy. God grant, if I am to leave my
bones in this foreign land, like thle Rev. Mr. Thatcher, I may
grow in submission as hope declines, and that I too may be
grateful for the kind severity with which death may be conducting me to another, and (it may be) a better world."
With thle 98th, on which lhe returned as far as Boulogne,
being unable to proceed on his jourJney, his notes terminate.
Subsequently he returned to London, where lie received the
most particularly kind and Christian attentions from Dr. Burder, son to the Secretary of the Lond. Miss. Soc., and from
whom, on leaving that for Edinburgh, lie received a special
intro(iuctory letter to Dr. Robert Hamilton, a young physician
of excellent talents, and distinguished Christian character.
On reaching this about the 10th of Novenmber, lie wrote me
a short note, mentioning his arrival, his intention of spending
the winter in Edinburgh, and saying that he should be glad
to see me when convenient.  Besides being quite unaware of
his being seriously indisposed, I had so much unavoidable duty
on my hands, I delayed calling from day to day, till on the
morning of Thursday sevennight, I received a note from Dr.
Hamilton, stating that he and Dr. Abercrombie had been attending him for several days, and that they considered him
as very dangerously ill indeed, and that he thought it would
be a satisfaction for me to see him. Almost immediately after
breakfast I accordingly went to his lodgings, and found hIim
in a much weaker state than I was prepared for, even by Dr.
Hamilton'snotice. His strenigtlh seemed completely exhausted,
and his voice so feeble that it was with difficulty I could hear
the few words he was able to speak to me. Yet on asking him




163
how he felt, particularly as to the state of his mind, I heard
him distinctly say, " My hope rests on the sure foundation laid
in Zion."  Having spoken a little with him, I prayed beside
him, and I never shall forget the emphasis with which, at its
conclusion, he said, Amen, or the affectionate pressure of his
hand, or the " God bless you" with which he bade me farewell. Along with Drs. Abercrombie and Hamilton, I saw
him again in the evening, when he appeared somewhat revived. On Friday I was prevented by indisposition from going out, but I saw him on Saturday, and again prayed beside
him, with which l he evidently seemed much pleased.  On Sabbath I had to preach forenoon, afternoon. and evening, so that
it was out of my power to call for him, and about four o'clock
on Monday morning his spirit was dislodged from its earthly
tabernacle. Nothing could surpass the attention he experienced from Drs. A. and H., who indeed are influenced by the
true spirit of the gospel, and who, feeling peculiar interest in
him, as a stranger, but who they hoped was a Christian
brother, were most anxious to do everything for his comfort
as well as relief. His body was interred in the ministers'
burial ground here, in a spot immediately beneath a stone
tablet in the wall, on which a suitable inscription may be cut,
or into which a small marble slab, with such an inscription,
may be inserted. * * * *
When a man distinguished in the walks of active life dies,
his memory long survives him, because it is connected in the
minds of men, with his actions. They have only to look at
what he accomplished in the senate, or the field, and his character stands distinctly before them animated and glowing, true to
life and nature. His friends, too, can point to a course of successful efforts, or to some brilliant action, and in doing this,
they pronounce the best eulogy. But the retired scholar is
engaged in none of those brilliant and imposing actions, that
in the eyes of the people reflect a lustre on the agent, whatever may be his real worth or demerit. And when he dies,
though a few will cherish his memory in their hearts, because
they knew him well, and loved him well; others, as they see
21




164
no train of effects flowing from his efforts, which "come 1home
to men's business and bosoms"-regard him simply as an individual of the human family, and his death only as a " unit
withdrawn from the sum of human existence."  There is then
the more propriety in presenting the character of such a one
for a nearer inspection, that others as well as his friends may
understand what were the mental and moral qualities that
constituted its real worth, and by dwelling on these excellences, may copy into themselves what they admired in him.
In looking at Mr. Woodward's character, we are not so
much struck with any one or a few prominent features, as by
a happy combination and symmetry of the whole. This is
true, whether you regard his intellectual habits, or the active
powers which gave rise to these habits, or the acquisitions
which arose from them as a joint result. It not unfrequently
happens, in men of highly distinguished reputation, that by,
the side of some very marked and brilliant traits, there are
deficiencies equally marked, and faults equally prominent,
which when subtracted from their excellences, leave the geiieral amount but small. They may have cultivated some faculties to the exclusion of their other faculties, or they may
have placed themselves under the dominion of a particular
class of feelings, until these become their master passion; or
they may have sought for eminence in a narrow range of acquisitions.  But lie, while he sought for none of these brilliant
traits, avoided the correspondent deficiencies; for lie wished
to cultivate his whole mind to the extent of its capacities,
rather than any set of powers at the expense of the rest.  He
had a quick relish for intellectual excellence of every kind, as
seen in others, and he loved to hold communion with those
great minds who have been the lights of the world, 1" by whom
the torch of science has been successively seized and transmitted."  By intercourse with such minds, introduced to him
through the medium of their works, he acquired an increased
love for truth, in the various branches of knowledge, speculative and practical, that led him to be unsatisfied with superficial views, and in the diligent investigation of first principles,
to seek for her among the innermost shrines of her temple.




165
The love of knowledge, united with the admiration of intellectual excellence, forming the exciting motive, the mode that
he adopted in the prosecution of his studies deserves notice.  The first point in his estimation to be gained, was an
accurate acquaintance with his own mental defects, both in regard to habits and acquisitions, that he might thus be able
to subject his mind to the proper discipline for establishing
good habits, and apply to it the appropriate objects for promoting valuable attainments.  He had read what Newton
said:'"If I have donle the public some service, it is due to
nothing but industry and patient thought."  His industry in
acquiring knowledge, or in preparing himself for communicating this knowledge, was unwearied. You might have seen it,
not only in his regular hours of study, but likewise in his seasons of comparative relaxation; for even then lie was employed, either in conversation on some important topic, or in
mnaking observations upon men and things, or in committing
to paper some train of thought, or in taking an abstract of
solme book that pleased him.  His plan was, not so far to exhlaust himself by some great effort, as to require complete relaxation, in order to recruit his spirits and power of attention;
but it was by patient thought, perseveringly continued, to possess himself of extensive views of the various subjects of inquiry, and to weave them, as it were, into the very texture of
his mind.  Even in his hours of sickness, when his body was
borne down by lassitude, would his mind rally its powers, not
to a nervous excitement, but to a gentle exercise, which at
the time appeared salutary, but in the end may have contributed to impair the energies of life.
His attainments, the fruits of his constant and well directed
application, though considerably various, should be estimated
by their completeness rather than their variety. Here two
particulars may be mentioned, and the first is this, that lie was
very much in the habit of retaining the proofs in his mind
upon which his conclusions were founded. This he was able
very conveniently to do, because in his investigations he committed the arguments to paper, and by referring to these Ire



166
quently and passing them through  his mind, they became firmly associated with the conclusion, and could be summoned
whenever necessary to show that his knowledge was actual, as
well as habitual. A second particular is this, that he was
well acquainted with subjects and sciences in their relations
with each other, and with the various arts of life; and thus he
was able to give a practical character to his speculations, and
make them interesting and valuable to men of common attainments.  He brought away from college, when lie was graduated, a thorough knowledge of the books recited, and a very
large amount of the instruction delivered in lectures, and less
formally.  Soon after that period, he devoted considerable attention to philology and philosophical criticism, which were
of great assistance to him in turning his attention to the precise import of language, and enabling him to clothe his coiiceptions with a graceful drapery. But the studies to which
he devoted the largest share of his attention, and in which lie
made the greatest acquisitions, were the philosophy of the humall mind, and political science. The transition from the one,
which treats of man as an intellectual and mnoral being, to the
other, which treats of the same being as a member of political
society, was natural; and they both furnish, in the mighty
mass of facts upon which as sciences they  rest, ample
scope for a mind of the largest powers. By the exercise of a
discriminating judgment, which enabled him to perceive the
near differences of things as well as their general correspondence, by a patience of doubting, which enabled him to take a
comprehensive survey of a subject, and by rigidly applying the
rules of Bacoli, the Prophet of the arts, which have sinlce been
revealed by his followers, he obtained an uncommon degree of
acquaintance with the sesciences, not only as they are exhibited by the ablest elementary writers, but likewise as they are
elicited by an examination of one's own consciousness, and the
details of general hlistory.  His pursuits led hIim  frequently
into an examination of the causes which conspired to give currency to various opinions, and in doing this he often found by
experience the truth of' that maxim, "' to trace an error to its




167
fountain head is to refute it."  A  diligent exarmiiiation and
comparison of these writers led him to discover those great
principles of philosophy, upon which all are agreed, and likewise pointed out to him  the various legitimate objects of inquiry; while the facts collected from general reading and observation, when classified and arranged, would have served
him as valuable materials for those original investigations
which he hoped to make.  He was so much in the habit of
using his pen in his studies, that he almostliterally obeyed the
injunction, nil sine calamow; yet considering the amount of his
writings, he published very little.*
His style is pure and simple, for the most part of an argumentative tone, yet occasionally rising into a high strain of
eloquence and pathos.  The force of his reasoning does not
consist in its mere formalities, in a succession of carefully
wroughlt syllogisms, nor in the mystical use of general terms,
nor in bringing forward artfully constructed paradoxes; to baffle the mind of others, and exhibit his own ingenuity; but
rather in a fair and manly exhibition of a subject addressed to
the good sense of mankind, and producing conviction, because
it is found to agree with their consciousness and observation.
The oration which he delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, 1822, " On the practical tendency of the Moral, Political
and Metaphysical Philosophy of the present Age," will be remembered by those who heard it, as a specimen of his mode
of discussion.  A more favorable specimen, perhaps, might be
found in a dissertation he prepared for the Connecticut Acadenemy, " On the structure of Civil Society."
His mind showed the effects of the discipline to wlvicli it had
been subject.  From  cultivating a habit of reflection, he obtained the power of long continued attention to the subjects
of consciousness, while at the same time, lie lost little of his
* To the Christian Spectator he contributed the following articles: In the second volume, a Review of Memoirs of Samuel J. Mills, p. 250; An inquiry respecting Conscience, p. 337; A Review of the Means of National Prosperity, p.
358. In the third volume, On Purity of Heart, p. 225; Review of Stewart's Outlines, p. 244.




168
interest in external objects, and of certain classes of these objects he was a minute observer.  His judgment was comprehensive, rather than acute, forming its decisions upon a careful survey of a subject in all its relations, rather than upon
verbal distinctions, and dialectic subtleties. His memory, as
it had been trained to depend more upon scientific than casual
associations, was more distinguished for its retentive power,
than its readiness.  His taste was correct, and in the latter
years of his life very much refined, by the coiitemplation of the
various objects of grandeur and beauty with which his mind
was conversant.  It was more remarkable for a ready notice
and admiration of what is lovely, than for detecting and
dwelling on faults.
But it was not merely or chiefly for intellectual excellence
that he sought. He wished to devote his improved faculties
and acquired knowledge, to the high purpose of benefiting his
fellow-men. He was well aware that nothing but moral excellence can meet the favor of God, or gain admission into that
high world, for which the present is only a scene of preparation. " It has," he remarks, " sometimes appeared to me to be
very strange, that while so much is said of the cultivation of
the mind, so little is said of the cultivation of the heart. The
moral powers are of a more exalted character than the intellectual; and it would seem that they demand proportionally,
a more careful and assiduous culture; so also moral excellence is far more desirable than intellectual, and hence also
the superior importance of the culture of the heart to that of
the understanding."  He always appeared to have a vivid feeling of approbation towards virtuous actions when performed
by others, and by dwelling on the character of those who hlabitually performed them, he acquired a high admiration, not
only for the agents, but for those moral qualities that constituted the governing principle of their lives. The same qualities he admired in the benevolent Author of the universe, and
in the character of that Holy Being, who came down from
heaven, and exhibited to mortals the moral glories of the only
begotten of the Father. These qualities he wished to incor



169
porate into his own character. S" I am," he remarks, "' apt to
consider this world as a school, where we are to be disciplined
for another state of existence.  Almost everything, in the arrangement of things here, seems adapted to promote our progress in virtue and piety. The great means of our discipline
are our various temptations.  By overcoming temptatiols, we
advance in moral excellence. rThe impressions they make on
our hlearts, are gradually weakened; while our habits of active virtue are strengthened, and our power of self-command
increased.
Having this high admiration for moral excellence, he devoted himself with the most assiduous care to its attainment,
as the grand object of his existence. He entered deeply into
the consideration of those relations in which man is placed as
a social and dependent being, that thus he might be able to
understand his duties to God and man, founded on these relations; and that thus too he might, by enlightening his conscience, place himself more completely under its dominion.
In forming his opinions, though he could not perhaps, in all
cases, go to the full length of the sentiment of Burke, " that
our passions instruct our reason," yet lie was very much in the
habit of consulting his moral feelings.  Such an action, he
would say, cannot be wrong, whatever theory it may oppose;
for it is consonant with my moral feelings.  He likewise in
adopting religious doctrines, while he anxiously examined the
usual proofs, was accustomed carefully to observe their moral
tendency; taking it for granted that truth is favorable to virtue, and that therefore any doctrine that is shown to be unfavorable to virtue, must be false. He was convinced that God
has written his will on the heart of man, as well as in his
word, and that in the words of Melancthon, " he never meant
to supersede by a law graven on stone, that which he had
graven with his own finger on the table of the heart."
He listened to the holy voice of nature as to the language of God, the more readily because he found that it coincided in its import with the oracles of truth.  In examining
the truths of Revelation, he was not satisfied with an assent




170
to them, on a superficial view; but he went into an extended
investigation of the proofs upon which the canonical authority
of each separate important book is established, and then applied the rules of interpretation to the discovery of its doctrines. His mind learned to attach less importance to those
points of controversy that have " drifted to the leeward with
the change of time," than to those practical truths that can be
applied daily and habitually to the heart.  He watched his
emotions no less carefully than his intellectual habits, that he
might repress those that the word of God condemns, and encourage th;ose that deserve cultivation.
The effects of this love of moral excellence, and of this discipline of his emotions, aided as we trust by that good Spirit
whose influences he habitually implored, were strikingly manifest in his moral progress.  Instead of yielding himself, as
most do, to the influence of passive impressions from surrounding objects, and changing in feelings and opinions as these objects change; he was governed by that class of motives which
lhave very properly been denominated rational principles of
action.  What is my duty? What is the will of God?  What
is best on the whole? These were the questions that seemed
to be constantly present to his mind, and in searching in his
conduct for the answer he gave to these questions, we are very
seldom able to discover that his understanding was under the
blinding influence of passion, or confused by the complex nature of the subject, or deceived by the power of association.
A friend says of him, " he was more under the control of principle, and less under that of impulse and feeling, than any
man I ever knew."  This habit of deciding upon mature reflection, may have taken away somewhat of boldness and apparent energy from his character, while it gave him the qualities
of consistency and uniformity in a very high degree. There
are minds, especially those formed in the scenes of active lifte,
in which, " on each glance of thought, decision follows, as the
thunderbolt pursues the flash."  The decisions of his mind resembled the silent and regular laws of nature, whose operations can always be predicted. You had only to determine




171g
what would be his opinion of duty in given circumstances, and
you would know what course of conduct he would pursue.
United to this habitual subjection of his emotions to a sense
of duty, was a strong feeling of good will towards men, which
seemed indeed plainly to comprise in itself that scriptural virtue, charity, so far as it fulfills the second table of the law. It
is sometimes the case, that men of retired habits, who have attended for some years to thle abstract pursuits of science, have
perceived in themselves a growing indifference towards their
brethren of the human family, which approaches even misanthropy, if they have a keen sense of the follies and vices of
mankind.  His studies led him  to contemplate mankind in
their several relations, and towards them in all these relations
he appeared to have the appropriate feelings.  Whatever concerned the welfare of the human race, le felt concerned him,
for lie was a lover of his species.  Whatever concerned the
welfare of the land in which lie lived, hle felt concerned him,
for he was a lover of his country.  In his intercourse with
general society, wlhich, owing to his feeble health, was not very
extensive, lie exhibited that Christian courtesy towards others
which told them that lie would not carelessly injure the feelings even of the humblest human being.  Towards the opinions of others, when they differed from his own, lie exhibited
a uniform candor, which told them that lie valued truth more
than victory in argument.  With his intimate friends, he was
frank and confiding in the disclosure of his feeliilgs and purposes; and if it be true that in every manl's mind there is an
interior circle into which none but himself and the Divinity
can enter, all the concealment which lie allowed in himself
seemed to spring from the best of motives, and not from a regard to any personal advantage.  He could perform towards
his friends thle high duty of kindly admonishing them of their
faults, because lie sought to promote their excellence as he
did his own; but lie seemed to dwell with the most pleasure
on the bright parts of their character, and thllus kept his mind
free from suspicion aiid distrust, and incorporated into his own
character the traits which he most loved in then.  His tern22




per-was uniform.  His manners were unaffected and pleasing.
In his person he was tall, and apparently formed for strength
and activity. His countenance was of a fine order of faces,
containing a frank and guileless expression, suiting well with
the cast of his mind.
Though unknown by profession as the disciple of Christ,
those best acquainted with him believe that piety formed the
crowning grace in his character.  It may indeed be viewed as
the parentof the rest. "How obvious it is," he remarks, " that
a religion which is designed to transform  us anew, should
operate powerfully on our whole moral constitution. It should
soften our rough dispositions, sweeten our tempers, and make
us more amiable as well as more excellent.  It should take the
acrimonious speech from our lips, and make the voice cease to
be a vehicle of unkindness.  It will produce this effect-because it will remove the cause-it will dry up the fountain;
for the character of our conversation will depend upon the disposition and feelings that are kept alive in the heart."  His
habitual love to God sprung from  the habitual contemplation
of him in his word and in his works; perceiving in the magnificent scene around him, the proofs of his attributes, and his
superintending providence, he wished firmlyto associate in his
mind every event and every object falling under his notice
with its great author, that thus he might not only behold his
presence and his glory, but likewise constantly listen to his
voice. Instead of viewing the " great and the little things of
this world only as toys spread on the lap and the carpet of
nature, for the childhood of our immortal being," lie wished to
elevate them to their true meaning, and gather from each a
serious lesson to prepare him for that being. Kindling his
devotion in this manner, by direct views of God as its source,
rather than from the variable feelings of others, and guarding
it with a zealous care-it burned with a pure and constant
flame upon the altar of his heart.  As he felt a lively gratitude
to God for the bestowment of hIii mercies, so, when these mercies were removed, he felt a correspondent resignation.  Sickness, while it darkened his earthly prospects, seemed to lift




his soul into a region of perpetual sunshine. Instead of rendering him  selfish by fixing his attention exclusively on- his
own wants, it seemed to quicken his social sympathies, and increase his benevolence towards others. Scarcely a murmur
was heard to escape his lips. On one occasion, during a paroxysm of pain, he was observed suddenly to suppress every expression of anguish.  Being,asked how he could remain so
quiet, distressed as he was,-" Whisper duty in my ear," was
his reply, " if you ever again witness in me the least expression of impatience." By previous discipline,hlis soul was armed
with religious fortitude for enduring even the final agony.
"As for the conduct," he remarks, "proper in a dying hour-.
our obligation to the performance of the duties which are still
within our power, continues; and among these duties, the
most difficult probably is entire resignation to the divine will.
Not a word, or action, or look, should be the external sign of
an ulnyielding, and so far as the nature of the disorder will
admit, of a discomposed spirit within. All should, if possible,
be as tranquil, as serene, as the setting of an unclouded sunll."
It would be a solace to have been present at his dying hour;
but God, we trust his best friend, was present, to calm his
fears, and to inspire him with confidence to " rest his hopes on
the foundation laid in Zion."  lie is gone, but he is not losthe will still live in the virtues which his example called into
existence-he will live in the hearts of a numerous circle of
friends in his native country-while in the land where his
ashes repose, some kindred minds will still think of him whom
thiey now describe as the amiable American stranger. He is
not lost; he is gone, we trust, to that high world where his
thoughts loved to go-where Dwight his father, and Fislier
his brother in excellence, had gone-where intellect and moral
feeling, which here lie cultivated with so much care, will expand forever.
His brother, Dr. Charles Woodward, of Miiddletown, Conn.,
through the kindness of Professor More, of Edinburgll University, placed, in the year 1852, a marble tablet to his mlenr
ory, in the wall mentioned by Dr. Dickson in Iis letter.




174
The following lines were written by the poet Brainerd, on
the occasion of his death:
Another!'tis a sad word to the heart,
That one by one has lost its hold on life,
From all it loved or valued, forced to part
In detail. Feeling dies not by the knife
That cuts at once and kills-its tortured strife
Is with distilled affliction, drop by drop
Oozing its bitterness. Our world is rife
With grief and sorrow; all that we would prop,
Or would be propped with, falls-when shall the ruin stop.
The sea has one, and Palestine has one,
And Scotland has the last. The snooded maid
Shall gaze in wonder on the stranger's stone,
And wipe the dust off with her Tartan plaidAnd from the lonely grave where thou art laid,
Turn to some other monument-nor know
Whose grave she passes, or whose name she read;
Whose loved and honored relies lie below;
Whose is immortal joy, and whose is mortal woe.
There is a world of bliss hereafter-else
Why are the bad above, the good beneath
The green grass of the grave? The mower fells
Flowers and briars alike. But man shall breathe
(When he his desolating blade shall sheathe
And rest him from his work,) in a pure sky,
Above the smoke of burning world; and death
On scorched pinions with the dead shall lie
When time with all his years and centuries has passed by.




175
REVIEW  OF SILLIMAN'S CHEMISTRY.*
If the excellence of a work consist mainly in its adaptation
to the professed object for which it was written, this truly is
one of the best productions on the subject of Chemistry, that
we have ever examined.  In the preface, the autllor informs
us, that " the object of this work is to present the science in
the most intelligible form to those who are learning its elements"; and the principles laid down, the facts adduced in
support of these principles, and the mode of their presentation, are all in keeping with the design.  Throughout tile
whiole, he evidently proceeds on the ground that the students
for whose use it was prepared, are entirely unacquainted with
the subjects of which it treats; that he is writing for tihe
novice, and not for the initiated; and he endeavors, and we
think very successfully, " to find his way into the mind of the
pupil, and to fix there the knowledge presented to him."
When Sir Humphrey Davy composed his work on Chemical
Philosophy, he had a different object in view; namely, to
classify and arrange the great phenomena of the science in
such a manner, that Chemistry, arrayed in all the glories of
his brilliant discoveries, might not fear to take her proper
rank with her sister sciences. Though he probably fell short
of what was due from his fine genius, he produced a very valuable work for the master, but not such an one as the student
wants.  Dr. Henry's " Elements of Experimental Chemistry"
is in some degree chargeable with the same defect; for it is
evident, that his eye is directed rather to the new discoveries
X Elements of Chemistry in the order of the Lectures given in Yale College.
By Benjamin Silliman, Professor of Chemistry, Pharmacy, Mineralogy, and
Geology. In two vols. New Haven. 1831.




:176
in the science, than to what has long been known; and that,
in the composition of the work he was thinking more of
chemists than of learners; so that while he is careful not to
depart from the dignity of science, he has failed of communicating all that interest to his work, which it ought to have
to recommend it to those who have but just entered on the
study of Chemistry.  He is correct and discriminating, and
the successive editions present a fair view of the progress of
the science. But however excellent the works just mentioned
are, the one as showing great genius in generalizing, and the
other a sound judgment, they are neither of them well adapted
to be text-books in our colleges.
In the preface to the work before us, the author remarks
that
".The materials of this work have been gradually accumulating
since 1802. They have been drawn from scientific journals, from
the transactions of learned societies, and from the principal writers
who have flourished since the middle of the last century, —the
Augustan age of Chenristry.  From works of an earlier date, light
has been occasionally derived, as well as from notes and recollections of the instructions of the distinguished teachers, to whom the
author was formerly so happy as to listen. In this view, he takes
particular satisfaction in naming the late Dr. Murray of Edinburgh,
and Professor Thomas C. Hope, still a distinguished ornament of
the university in the same city.
"Various notices, derived from  the author's own experience,
and from his personal communications with others, are introduced,
with occasional figures, for illustration; and in the notes, many
miscellaneous facts are preserved.."In the immediate preparation of this work for the press, the
original memoirs of authors and discoverers have been often consulted, and the abstract has been frequently drawn from  them,
rather than from the elementary books; but the analyses contained
in the latter have not unfrequently been adopted; sometimes even
after a careful examination of the original; and for this reason,
among others, that the statements contained in them could be often,
without injury, still further abridged.  In such cases, several emihent: elementary writers have been diligently compared on the




same subject; and' thus omissions have been supplied, and obscurity
has been removed, either by the comparison or by resorting to the
first record.
"References to the original memoirs have been always preserved,
when such memoirs were attainable; and when the books containing them were not at hand, the citations have been copied from
the latest systematical writers.  Credit has also, in most instances,
been given to elementary writers for materials drawn from their
pages; but for brevity, and especially when the facts are the common stock of the science, the references have been sometimes
omitted, or an initial letter only retained.  There are, however,
some works, to which a more particular acknowledgment is due.
Those of Bergman and Scheele; the lectures of Dr. Black, by
Robison; the system of Dr. Thomson, in all its editions, and also
his more recent work on the First Principles of Chemistry; the
Dictionaries of Nicholson, Aikins, and UTre, the Compendium of
Dr. Hare, the Dispensatory of Dr. Coxe, the Technology of Dr.
Bigelow, the Operative Chemist of Gray, and the Chemical Man.
ipulation of Mr. Faraday; the System of the late Dr. Murray, and
his Elements, ably edited by his son; as also the writings of Mr..
Dalton; the works of Lavoisier, Chaptal, Berthollet, and Fomircroy;
the System of Thenard, in its most recent edition, and his miscellaneous writings, especially in connection with Gay-Lussac; and
those of Dr. Priestley, Bishop Watson, Mr. Parkes, Professor Berzelius, and Sir H. Davy, including also his Elements;-these are
among the leading authorities, although it would be easy to increase
the catalogue.
"A recent work by Dr. Turner, of the London University, has
been of great utility.  It is highly scientific and very exact, particularly on the facts and doctrines of definite and multiple proportions, and combining equivalents; and many of its details have
been adopted."  Preface, pp. 4, 5.
After tile preface comes the plan of the work, which we
shall again have occasion to notice, and then follows an introduction, containing a spirited sketch of the main branches of
natural science, and the connection between them.
" CHEMISTRY.  rlhe 1 relnaining branch of science relating to natural bodies, begins where naturmal hllilosophy and natural history




178
stop. As the gleanings of its early history may be found in the
prefaces of the larger elementary works on Chemistry, we shall
here omit the vague annals of its infancy, and the delusions of its
middle age.'It would exceed our limits to trace the progress of Chemistry
from age to age; to unfold the delusions of ALCHEMY, whose object
was to discover the philosopher's stone, an imaginary substance,
which, it was supposed, would convert the baser metals into gold
or silver, or to speak- of the equally delusive pursuit after the
GRAND CATHOLICON, or universal remedy, which was to remove
every disease; to avert death, and confer terrestrial immortality
on man; or to mention the imaginary. ALCAHEST, or universal solvent, whose power it was supposed nothing could resist.  The
alchemists indeed, imagined that these miraculous virtues resided
in one and the same substance, and during the dark ages, most of
the cultivators of what was then called Chemistry, smitten with
the delirium of Alchemy, pursued their occult processes in cells
and caverns, remote from the light of heaven, and wasted their
days and nights, their talents and fortunes, in a vain pursuit. The
alchemist, however, accumulated many valuable facts, which have
been employed. with good advantage, in laying the foundations of
modern Chemical Science.
" Some knowledge of chemical arts is coeval with the earliest
stages of human society; and it has happened with this, as with
other branches of natural knowledge, that many facts were discovered and accumulated, in the practice of the arts, and in domestic economy, long before any general truths were established,
by a course of inductive reasoning, upon the phenomena.' The arts are all either mechanical or chemical, and not unfrequently both are involved in the same processes. The practices of
the arts may be regarded as experiments in natural philosophy
and chemistry. The object of the arts is usually gain; but he, or
any other person, who views the facts correctly, may reason upon
them advantageously, and thus obtain important instruction.
" The Science of Chemistry, considered as a collection of elementeary truths derived from the study of facts, can scarcely be referred
to a period much beyond the commencement of the last century,
and its principal triumphs have been achieved since the middle of
that period.  It would be premature, to detail on the present occasion, the particular discoveries, which, like stars, rising successively




above the horizon, have broken forth in rapid succession. Those
discoveries, their periods and their authors, will be mentioned, in
giving the history of each particular substance. At present, it
would not be proper to attempt any thing more than to convey to
those to whom the subject may be new, a general conception of
the nature, extent, and objects of the Science of Chemistry, reserving the details for the time when they will be both the most intelligible and the most interesting.
"DEFINITION.*   Chemistry is that science which investigates the
composition of  all bodies, and the laws by which it is governed.
I"Not satisfied with the knowledge of the external properties
and the mechanical relations, which are unfolded by natural history and by physics, but taking them into view, and retaining and
using their principal discoveries, chemistry proceeds to investigate
the hidden constitution of every species of material existence in
earth, sea, and air.
" Earth, air, fire, and water, were the four elements of the ancient
school. They have, however, yielded to analysis, and water, bland
and simple as it seems, contains two bodies, whose properties are
entirely different from its own and from those of each other: burning, when mingled and ignited in large quantities, with violent
explosion; and in a small stream, with a heat, which melts and
dissipates the firmest substances. We should never have conjectured that water, whose great prerogative it is to extinguish fire,
contains both a combustible and a supporter of combustion.
" The air, the pabulum of life to the whole animal and vegetable
creation, mild and negative like water, is not simple, but incidentally contains many bodies,-essentially, however, only two; one of
which, and that constituting four-fifths of the whole, is, and was
intended to be, in a high degree noxious and even deadly to animal
life, and fatal to combustion. The air does not destroy life instead
of invigorating our frames, and extinguish instead of inflaming
combustion, because the prevalent noxious principle of the air,
(nitrogen) is balanced by a life and fire-sustaining principle, (oxygen) too vigorous to be trusted alone, and therefore diluted exactly
to the proper degree by the opposite principle; both being, by
another extraordinary provision, sustained, in constant proportion,
and thus producing a salubrious and unchanging atmosphere.
*" For various definitions the student may see the principal authors, Thompson, Fourcroy, Henry; Murray, La Grange, Thdnard, Davy, Brande, Turner,
Hare, and others."
23




180
"The earth under our feet, the soil, the sand, the gravel, the
firm substance of the rocks, is not simple.  In this ancient but
assumed element, we have a double complexness. The one imagined simple earth contains at least nine, and each of these is again
complex, containing for one principle, oxygen, the same that exists
both in water and in the atmosphere, united to nine or ten varieties
of metals or combustibles, none of which are known in common
life.
"He who is acquainted with the wonderful effects of chemical
combination, will not think it strange that half the weight of marble is carbonic acid, and that metals, when combined with oxygen,
resemble very exactly the earthly substances.
" Light as well as heat, is contained in common fire, and therefore
it is not simple, unless fire and heat are varieties of one and the
same thing.
"Modern research has proved that, besides light, which, in its
seven prismatic colors, is contained in the solar beam, there is also,
in this emanation, an opake, radiant principle, which accompanying
light and heat, neither warms nor illuminates, but acts to decompose certain chemical compounds; that there are opake rays which
warm but do not illuminate, and illuminating rays which are cold
to the sense of living animals, but impart to the universe its splendid drapery of colors; and that, associated with one or more of
these emanations, there is a surprising power, which -imparts magnetism to a needle, and gives it the properties of the load-stone.
But we have used the word element without defining it.
"An element is an undecomposable body,-it is therefore simple,
or in other words, not reducible to any other form of existence.
We must, however, carefully distinguish between real elements,
and those which are such only in relation to the present state of
our knowledge. When modern science speaks of a body as elementary, it intends nothing more than that it has not been decomposed. It is therefore simple as far as we know, but it is possible
that by future efforts, it may be decomposed. Although we have
no reason to doubt that there are real elements, we cannot say that
we are certainly in possession of any one element. It is, however,
perfectly safe to reason upon bodies as elementary, until they are
proved to be compound. Iron is, as far as we know, a simple
body; we cannot as yet exhibit it in any simple form; all we can
do, is to alter its size and figure, without at all changing its nature.




181
B3ut iron rust, or the scales which fly off when red hot iron is
hammered, are not simple; they consist of iron combined with
oxygen, one of the principles of the atmosphere; we can explain
these substances in a simpler form; the iron which they contain
can be separated from the aerial principle, and both can be exhibited apart,, and thus the proof will be complete; red lead and red
precipitate are still better examples, because the former can be
partially, and the latter wholly, brought back to the condition of
metals, by simply heating them.
"The four ancient elements, earth, air, fire, and water, were
assumed at hazard, because they are so conspicuous and important;
the conception was grand, but it was wholly erroneous.
"Instead of four elements, we have at the present time not less
than fifty, nearly four-fifths of which are metals; the remainder
are chiefly combustibles and bodies which, combining with combustibles and  metals with peculiar energy, are generally called
supporters of combustion.*
"Our simple bodies then are,
I. Metals, about......    40t
2. Combustibles not metallic,                                    7...t
3. Principles or supporters of combustion,.    2 or 3
4. One body, or possibly two,t of an undetermined
character, in all..              50 or 51
5. Imponderable bodies, light, heat, and electricity; besides the
power called magnetism and the other varieties of attraction.
"The principal object of Chemistry is to display, first the great
powers upon which its phenomena depend; and, secondly, the
properties of the elements, the mode and energy of their action,
the combinations which they are capable of forming, the properties
of the resulting compounds, and the laws by which they are governed. This statement obviously includes all bodies, natural and
artificial.   There are many chemical compounds made by art,
" Some object to this phrase, preferring to consider combustion as being only
an example of intense chemical action; this view is philosophical; but combustion is so frequent an occurrence, and involves so many important chemical
events, that it is convenient, in accordance with the general practice of mankind,
to designate it and the bodies contained in it, by a peculiar phraseology."
t " It is perhaps doubtful, where some of these bodies ought to be classed,whether among metals or combustibles."
$ "Perhaps silicon and bromine; we have, however, classed them where they
appear to belong."




182
which, as far as we are informed, do not exist in nature, and there
are many natural bodies which art has not yet been able to imitate."
Vol. I. Introduction, pp. 14-19.
We have already expressed the opinion, that this work is
eminently adapted to the object for which it was prepared,
and one circumstance which shows that it is so, it the vast
number of interesting facts contained in it, illustrating most
distinctly and satisfactorily the principles of Chemistry. They
are drawn, not merely from the experiments of the laboratory, but likewise from the shop of the artist, and the grand
processes of nature.  They are not only such as are found
scattered through elementary works and scientific journals,
but they are also such as the author himself gathered frolm
his own experience and observation, during the nearly thirty
years whlich lie has devoted to the subject.  They are also,
many of them  at least, related in a manner so distinct,
graphic, and attractive, as to prove that he is not only a close
observer, but a warm admirer of this class of the phenomena
of nature.
Now this is just what the student wants, as one said a few
days since, who was endeavoring to glean some knowledge
from a dry text-book.  "I should be very much interested in
Chemistry, if I could find data." It is peculiarly a science
dependent upon facts, which are needed to give a local lhabitation to its doctrines; and without them, though one should
write a system with all the acuteness of Aristotle, and the
elegance of Plato, it would not interest a novice any more
than would a metaphysical system of divinity, compared with
the narrations of the Evangelists.  Every science has its
metaphysics, and we know there are some who would prefer
a cold statement of the abstract principles of Chemistry;
just as there are those, who, from their attachment to Anatomy, would feel more interest in a naked skeleton thani they
would in a form through wlich life pours its mantling tide,
and in which intelligence dwells. And we apprehend that in
the progress of investigation and discovery, the tendency is
to lay aside facts and to dwell on principles.  One chemical




183
philosopher, in all the ardor of original investigation, arrives
at certain conclusions, which he publishes to the world with
the facts upon which they are built, and the uses to which
they can be applied.  Another, adopting these conclusions as
his premises, while he says little about those facts or those
uses, presses on in the field of discovery, and in his turn
enlarges the boundaries of knowledge.  And it has happened,
that some of the late works on this source are very deficient
in those interesting phenomena, upon which its great principles are founded, and in the discussion of the practical
application of those principles; while they are fuller than
the older systems of the doctrines of the science.  This is
the case with Dr. Turner's recent work; which is worthy of'
all praise for the philosophical accuracy of its statements,
and yet has very little attraction for one who has just entered
on the study of the science, as we have had good opportunity
of knowing. And here we are happy to fortify our opinions,
by quoting the kindred sentiments of Dr. Ure, from the preface of his Dictionary of Chemistry.
"It must however be confessed, that the listlessness with which
chemical systems are frequently perused, is not entirely the fault
of the reader. Too many of these books are dry compilations of
names, qualities and numbers, in methodical complexity, containing no intelligible examples of chemical inquiry; nay, hardly a
trace of the genius of discovery or of the splendid course which it
has run."'
The same good judgment which appears in the selection of
a great number of facts, led the author to dwell on those doctrines that are the most important, and interesting; and this
is another circumstance, which renders the work well adapted
to the purpose for which it was prepared.  When Nicholas
Lemery published his course of Chemistry, we are told that
it was devoured like a novel, and we are disposed to believe,
tliat by a selection of' certain topics, illustrated in a suitable
manner, a book might be prepared which would be equally
attractive at the present time.  Let the grand doctrine of




184
caloric be exhibited, with its various phenomena of radiation
and slow communication; in its vanishing and re-appearing
forms, according as it becomes latent or sensible, with its
several sources and its powerful effects, whether they are seen
in clothing the earth with verdure and working into life the
tribes that people it; in changing the dimensions and the
state of bodies by its expanding and decomposing power; or
as they appear in the steam-engine, the noblest trophy of the
conquest of science over nature; and in the volcano, which
sends forth from the interior of the earth its desolating flood.
Let the simple combustibles, such as carbon, phosphorus,
sulphur, and hydrogen, find a place; and the grand supporter
of combustion, oxygen, in its several states, solid in union
with the metals, liquid in the water we drink, gaseous in the
air we breathe; united with one class of bodies to form the
alkalies, earths, and oxyds, and with another to form the common acids; expanded in large quantities to support animal
life, and, by a beautiful arrangement of Providence, restored
to the atmosphere by the vegetable creation. To these should
be added chlorine, some of the more important metals, some
of the proximate vegetable principles.  It would be highly,
important not to omit galvanism, with its wonderful phenomena, and the laws of affinity, especially as they are exhibited
ill the doctrines of definite proportion. Let these and some
other topics be selected and presented with sufficient detail
in an appropriate form, and in the same spirit with which Sir
Humphrey Davy wrote his last work, though in a less ambitious style, and the science could not fail of awakening a
deep interest, and of securing more attention than it now
does.
Chemistry has become very extensive in its ordinary
branches and applications, and we see not why the same
course should not be taken in preparing works for the learner,
on this as on most of the other sciences.  He who prepares a
work for schools and colleges, on arithmetic, or algebra, or
geometry, does not think it necessary to include in it the
theory of numbers, or of analytical functions, or the porisms




185
recorded by Pappus; and for the plain reason, that these
investigations would not only be of no use to the student in
his incipient course, but from their intricacy, would be actually discouraging and repulsive. But in the larger works on
Chemistry, such as for instance, Thompson's, Murray's, and
Henry's, there are subjects introduced, with which it is impossible that a student should become acquainted in the time
usually allotted to the study of Chemistry in our colleges,
and which must serve only as stumbling-blocks in his way.
We are happy to find that AM. Lavoisier justifies this view
of the subject, in the course which he took in the composition
of his work; though the reasons for it, owing to the progress
of the science, are much stronger now than they were when
he wrote.  Having omitted the subject of affinities, he remarks in his preface that he had done so, because he considered the c" science of affinities as holding the same place
with regard to the other branches of Chemistry, that the
higher or transcendental Geometry does with respect to the
simple and elementary part."
Iu the work before us, Professor Silliman, while lie has
conformed to the common mode of saying something on every
substance, has, for the most part, bestowed attention upon
each according to its relative importance, presenting some of
them in a strong light, and casting into the shade others of
less importance.
The next circumstance to be mentioned which renders this
work well adapted to the object for which it was prepared, is
its arrangement. Had it been prepared for the purpose of
presenting to thorough-bred chemists a logical view of the
various substances in nature in their relations to each other,
perhaps the order in which the subjects are treated, would
not have been in every respect the most scientific; while it
may be the best that could be devised for those for whose use
it was especially designed, and who are supposed to know
absolutely nothing on the subject of Chemistry. The problem
to be solved was, what is the arrangement best adapted to
awaken and sustain an interest ill their mninds, and communi



186
cate to them  clear and adequate views of the science? and
from his long experience and great success as a teacher, we
think that no one is better qualified than the author to furnish a solution.  There is an inherent difficulty in the case,
which does not exist in the exact sciences, and it is not surprising that a man trained in these, should be dissatisfied
with any system that can be proposed.
Bodies are frequently related to each other in themselves,
or in their proximate principles, or in their ultimate principles.
For instance, carbonate of potash and carbonate of soda
agree with each other in being made up in part of carbonic
acid; and after this is removed by lime, the two substances,
potash and soda, agree in being made up in part of oxygen;
and after this is removed by iron turnings or charcoal, the
two substances agree in being metallic. Now let a classification be adopted, founded on either of these relations, and
there will be practical inconveniences of one kind or another,
if the system be carried through. For particular bodies it
would not be very difficult to determine what should be the
arranglement, yet a mode that would answer for these, would
not answer for all others.  Among the British chemists, there
is considerable diversity in their systems of arrangement, and
which of them has adopted the best, it would be rather difficult to say; we are sure it is not Dr. Thompson, however
meritorious he may be in other respects.
We are inclined to believe that too much importance has
been attached to a logical system, just as theologians formerly
thought lightly of doctrines, which could not find a place in
some body of divinity.  Instead of enteriing at large into
arguments in support of our opinion, we shall barely allow
ourselves space to quote a paragraph from Dugald Stewart's
Dissertation on the Progress of Philosophy.  Page 248, 1 dis.
part II.
"' The passion of the Germans for systems, is a striking feature
in their literary taste, and is sufficient of itself to show that they
have not yet passed their noviciate in philosophy."  "To all such,"
says Mr. McLaurin, " as have just notions of the Great Author of




187
the Universe and of his admirable workmanship, all complete and
finished systems must appear suspicious."
" At the time when he wrote, such systems had not wholly lost
their partisans in England, and the name of system continued to be
the favorite title for a book, even among writers of the very first
reputation.  Hence the System of Moral Philosophy, by Hutcheson,
and the Complete System of Optics, by Smith, titles which, when
compared with the subsequent progress of these sciences, reflect
some degree of ridicule upon their authors."
In the plan of the work before us the author remarks,
" I have not thought it best to describe the simple substances in
uninterrupted succession. Such a method does not appear to me
to present advantages sufficient to compensate for the inconvenience
of plunging at once into the most complex parts of the science;
which must be done, if we would draw the elementary bodies from
their combinations, and present them in the beginning in a con.
nected view." p. 1.
" The natural process of acquiring knowledge is the analytical,
or the progress from the complex to the simple, from the whole to
its parts; the shortest is the synthetic, that is, from the simple to
the complex; from the parts to the whole; and this is the course
now more generally pursued in Chemistry. If our knowledge
were perfect, this would be not only the most obvious, but the best
process; and perhaps that mode will be found to combine most
advantages, which unites them  both.  With this view, I have
therefore sometimes adopted the one and sometimes the other,
aiming to present the most important elements and combinations
as early as possible." p. 2.
" In teaching, the great object should be, to find ozur way into the
mind of the ptp~il, and to fix there the knowledge that we present to him.
He is ordinarily no judge of our theoretical views, with regard to
classification and arrangement; he will in most cases even fail to
understand us, when we discuss them; and he will be best satisfied
with that course, which, in the most interesting and intelligible
manner, presents to him the greatest amount of useful knowledge.
Both in my public courses of lectures, and in the present work, I
have, therefore, considered this object as paramount in importance
to every other." p. 3.
24




188
Another circumstance which adds very much to tie value
of the work, is this, that it presents the doctrines of Chemistry in their connection with the practical arts of life. There
is enough, indeed, in the grand and beautiful phenomena they
unfold, to awaken interest and secure a generous and lasting
attachment to the science from its own intrinsic excellence
and beauty. But it must be confessed, that the amor habendi
has gained a place in so many hearts, that even science herself is loved mainly for the dower she brings.  You must
convince men that Chemistry will enable them  to increase
their wealth, before they will consider the study of it as worthy of their attention. It was said by one, who had borne
the honors of his country, and by his counsels had helped to
increase her resources, in speaking of a young lady who was
about to commence the study of Chemistry, " Why, if it will
help her to make a better pudding, let her study it."  Now
to men of this class, who value every thing as it contributes
to the amount of national or individual wealth, Chemistry,
in its application to the arts, presents strong claims, as the
experience of France can testify.  Formerly, the arts were
enveloped in mystery and concealment. They stood separate
from each other, and a knowledge of some one of them was
frequently transmitted from father to son as a valuable inheritance. But the lights of modern Chemistry have disclosed
these confidently treasured secrets; and besides introducing
a great many new arts, have shown a connection between
those already known, that was not suspected to exist before.
It is in this way that Chemistry, by discovering the laws of
nature, has been a source of wealth to those who have applied
these laws to the practical arts of life, and enabled them to
realize for themselves and their country, that of which the
votaries of alchemy only dreamed.
Professor Silliman has generally mentioned the uses to
which the various substances described are applied, and not
unfrequently, some of the processes by which this application
is made. Asj for instance, under silica, lie mentions some
particulars concerning the manufacture of glass; under alu



189
mina, the process for making porcelain and pottery; and under
nitre, the mode in which gunpowder is made.
This work was needed. It was due from the author that
he should promote the science by his pen, as he had long done
by his lectures. It was due to the Institution with which he
has been connected, with so much reputation to both. The
science has undergone almost as many changes as the objects
in the vegetable, the animal, and mineral kingdom, which it
investigates, though no valuable truth is lost.  Omnia mutantur, nil interit.  Take as an instance the theories of combustion. At one time, the doctrine of phlogiston prevailed, with
its successive modifications.  In place of this, the views of
Lavoisier were brought forward, and his house, we are told,
became a temple of science, where the Parisian chemists
held a festival, at which Madame Lavoisier, in the habit of a
priestess, burnt Stahl's.Fundamenta on an altar, while solemn
music played a requiem to the departed system. Then followed the doctrines of Davy.  A science thus constantly
changing requires a work suited to its present condition,
enriched as it has been within a few years by a succession of
brilliant and useful discoveries, and such a work is the one
before us.




REVIEW  OF THOMPSON'S SERMONS.*
One characteristic of these Sermons is, that they bear internal evidence of having been prepared to meet the actual wants
of the congregation to whom they were addressed.  It is evident,
that both in the pulpit and the study, the author felt his mind
to be in contact with the minds of at least some who were infidels in fact, if not in name. There is a directness in the arguments, and an earnestness in their application, which could
spring only from a mind excited and warmed by a personal intellectual encounter with the enemies of the gospel. Indeed,
through the whole of his attack upon them, while he manages
his weapons with sufficient gracefulness and dexterity, he bears
himself in such a manner as to remind us of some stout warrior, engaged with his whole soul in mortal strife against the
foes of his country, rather than of some errant knight showing forth his skill in arms at a tournament.
And from other sources we know that this was the case.
At the time when Dr. Thompson commenced his ministrations at St. George's, the leaven of infidelity was fermenting
in the mass of the population of Edinburgh, just as it was
then, and is now, more or less, in all the large cities in christendom. It was no longer confined to a few speculative minds,
but was extending its influence to every class of the community.  We are not speaking so much of that open-mouthed,
brawling infidelity which we sometimes meet with, as of a secret, indefinite unbelief of the peculiar doctrines of the christian system.  When Hume first sent forth into the world his
writings in opposition to christianity, they generally met with
e Sermons on Infidelity, BY ANDREW THOMPSON D. Do Minister of St.
George's, Edinburgh. First American Edition, with a Preliminary Essay. Windsor, Vt., Richards and Tracy. New York: Jonathan Leavitt, 1833.




a cold reception, even in the country and city of his birth.
The Scotch were a cautious, as well as a religious people.  We
have it on good authority, that the controversy between him
and his antagonists, was regarded with interest, rather as an
exhibition of the intellectual strength of the parties, than because great interests were staked on the decision of the question. They seemed to have looked upon the struggle between
that " prince of doubters," and such a master of reason as
Reid, Campbell, or Beattie, as each rushed to attack him in
defense of truth and christianity, with the same feelings with
which the Roman people witnessed the combat between two
accomplished gladiators. Each of the combatants, indeed had
his partisans; but the great body of even the higher classes,
were interested mainly in the contest itself, and not in its
issue.
But, in time, the infidel opinions then first promulgated,
were adopted, in part at least, by a class of men, who by their
talents and learning exerted a controlling influence upon public sentiment. Indeed, there was a period, when it was to a
considerable extent the opinion in England, that the learned
men of Scotland were all infidels, and the common people all
christians.  At least, it was true that some of the most celebrated public instructors and writers were conversant with the
works of Hume, and gave currency among their countrymen
to doubts concerning the peculiar doctrines and duties of the
gospel.  Unbelief was rife in certain circles in Edinburgh, and
" church-going was a thing comparatively out of fashion in the
New-Town of that metropolis, till Andrew Thompson was removed from a church he had formerly held in the Old-Town,
and established under the splendid dome of St. George's.
It was for the especial benefit of the intelligent and fastidious unbelievers of his own congregation, that these discourses
were prepared; and to this circumstance, they owe much of
their uncommon excellence.  A minister who fixes his view
upon infidelity as it exists among his own people, can see its
real form, and describe it more accurately, and argue it down
more conclusively, than if he should look all over Christen



192
dom to findd what infidelity is in the abstract, and should then
write a book to confute it, which should be so general in its
arguments, as to be as well fitted to one age as another.
He who would write a truly effective volume oni this subject,
must have access to the hearts of reflecting menl, who having
read the writings of distinguished infidels, and find themselves
unable to meet their objections; and who with some appearance of candor, and some show of reluctance, have become
unbelievers. He should have conversed with them freely and
familiarly, and thus have become acquainted with their mental history, and the causes of their unbelief. He should have
humbled himself to hold intercourse with another class of infidels, whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness, and who
show clearly that they hate the light of truth.  He should,
likewise, have conversed with still another class, whose opinions are vague and unsettled, and who are carried about by
every wind of doctrine; and with those who are too unreflecting to think much, and too stupid to feel much, either of attachment or dislike on the subject of religion.  Besides this
acquaintance with individuals, he should have witnessed the
effects of infidelity upon communities,-observing how it dries
up the springs of the social virtues, withers whatever is fair and
lovely in social happiness, and as if it were the hot breath of
the pit, kindles into a consuming flame the passions of men.
With a preparation like this, he would be qualified to come
forth to the world in opposition to infidelity, either from the
press or the pulpit; and without some such preparation superadded to learning obtained from books, what he publishes or
preaches must be deficient in many important particulars.
We are strengthened in this opinion, by calling to mind in
what year the bible was written. It was written, at least a
considerable part of it, not to supply the general wants of the
church, but was for some local or individual exigency. Read
the Epistle to the Romans, or those to the Corinthians, or indeed any of the scriptures, and you will be convinced, that
each one of them was composed for the purpose of instructing
and edifying the particular church or-person to whom it was




addressed, and that from this circumstance is derived its principal excellence.  Mere generalities, either in doctrines or in
precepts, are not what we want, and are not what we have in
the bible. The sacred penmen wrote in view of actual existences. Their language is, " that which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our
eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled.
of the word of life —declare we unto you."  The bible being
prepared by those who were thus intimately acquainted with
what they undertake to communicate, for the purpose of meeting the wants of particular individuals or communities, in certain definite exigencies, presents facilities for beingunderstood,
like those presented by statute law, when explained by commentaries and the reports of adjudicated cases. And being
prepared in this manner, it is found to be altogether better
adapted to exert a moral influence upon the great mass of
mankind, than if it were made up of ten thousand precepts delivered in an abstract form.
The additional circumstance should be taken into view, that
in modern times many causes are in operation to assimilate
men in civilized countries, to each other, in their sentiments
and opinions; so that a work on religion which is adapted to
one large town, may be considered as well adapted to almost
any otherin christendom.  Tle press circulates every new opinion which may be broached on the subject of religion, with
wonderful promptitude. We have met with persons from the
valley of the Mississippi, who were well versed in the works of
Mirabeau the Atheist.  Hume is read, more or less, throughout the countries denominated christian. Paine's works are
circulated in India, even among the natives. But more than
this; many of the popular writers of the present and the last
generation, have read these same authors, and not unfrequently have contributed, perhaps in some cases unwittingly, to introduce some of the subtle poisoil of infidelity into the public
mind.  A work which is well adapted to unbelievers in Edinburgh, will of course, then, be well suited to unbelievers elsewhere. But unless written with a distinct reference to some




194
people, and some actual state of public opinion, it will be of
but little use. An ingenious man by. the help of books solely,
call prepare a work against infidelity; just as Phormio the
Peripatetic, who had never seen military service, spoke some
hours in the presence of Hannibal on the art of war and the
duties of a commander; but he will expose himself to the ridicule of some thorough-bred infidel, just as the philosopher
brought upon himself the contempt of the accomplished Carthagenian general.
Another characteristic excellence of these sermons, is that
they are evidently the result of close observation, on the part of
the author. He was not only placed in favorable circumstances, as we have seen, for preparing this work, but he was
qualified by his mental habits, to avail himself perfectly of
these circumstances. In other words, he had that acquaintance with men and things which is usually denominated a
knowledge of the world. Many learned theologians, we need
not say, have been wofully deficient in this kind of knowledge;
and, as the necessary consequence, have exerted less influence
than they would have otherwise done, upon men of cultivated
minds who were accustomed to fashionable life. This, we
suppose, was to some extent true in the case of the great theologian of our country, President Edwards.  Until the time
when he entered Yale College, he was educated at home in
company with his sisters; when a member of that institution
he was very greatly devoted to his books; and in subsequent
life he was occupied almost constantly by his preparations for
the pulpit, and by the works which he published. He seems
indeed, not only to have avoided intercourse with general society, but also to have considered himself in some degree as
unqualified for it. Undoubtedly his heart was full of love
towards " being in general;" but a perusal of his life will show,
that this love was not manifested towards individuals out of'
the circle of his personal friends, by any strong interest in society at large. And in correspondence with this, his works
do not show an acquaintance with men. With the general
features of the human mind, he was intimately acquainted.




195
He knew man in tile abstract, and he reasons' upon some of
tlhe faculties of our nature, with surpassing strengthl and clearness. He knew man as sinner or a saint; and hle describes
him as the one or the other with great exactness, in the more
prominent traits of his character.  The truth seems to be, that
as subjects of thought, God and his moral government, his
plan of redemption by Jesus Christ, and mail as a voluntary
and accountable being destined to happiness or misery, so absorbed his powerful mind, that he felt no disposition to descenld to thle varieties of individual character.  At least, lie
does not show that minute acquaintance withl those varieties
which some other great men have manifested in tlheir writings.
And though we are professed admirers of his genius and moral
excellence, we have often regretted, that lie did not share in
such opportunities for observing the varieties of cllaracter, as
those wlhicll were enjoyed by Barrow and Berkeley.  Had lihe
occasionally stooped friom his contemplations, to hold converse
with more of his brethren of tlle great human family, lie would
have accommodated the truths which lie discovered, more persuasively to their hearts.
A retired theologian may have fastened his mind on some:
truth like tlhis, " thle hleart is deceitful above all tliligs and
desperately wicked," and may insist on it in hlis reasolings
with great ingenuity and force, and yet, if lie happens to go
abroad into society, may be tlle dupe of tlhe first mall lie meets.
Like some others, lie may be inclined to worshlip the " idols
of the den," and to seek for truth in the " lesser world and
not in the greater aniid commoni one."  He mnay be very ingenious in reasoning from tlle objects of his own consciousness
anid experience, or friom the abstract principles of tlheology;
but in the one case lie may be told, that it is dangerous to take
the " a priori road," and in the other, that his consciousness
and experience are not the measure of the intellect and moral
feelings of others.
We admit, that the writer who describes his own experience
and the objects of his own consciousness, will often by so doing waken some of those feelings of our common nature, in the
25




196
heart of many readers.  This was the secret of the success of
tlhat class of poets, who have been styled the " Egotistical
school."  Going on the ground tlhat "face answereth to face
in water, so the heart of man to man," they painted their own
feelings with great distinctness and strength of coloring, and
thus found their way to the hearts of others.
So in religious experience, some eminent christians have in
their diaries, or their letters to friends, or their sermons, or
their published works, unfolded their own hearts in the description of the graces of holiness, or of their trials and temptations; and have thus afforded consolation and encouragement to other christians, especially if they belonged to the
same section of the church, and were conversant with the
same doctrines.  But the difficulty is, that the christian and
the infidel have so little in common, that if the christian minister attempts to reason from his own consciousness, in order
to convince an unbeliever of his error, he will do it to little
purpose.  Neither abstract principles, nor his own experience,
will answer any very good end.  He must by actual intercourse
with men, have enjoyed the advantage of making external observations; and then will he understand what are the prejudices and prepossessions, the associations and the dullness
which exist among even baptised infidels.  And from pursuing a different course, and trusting to the power of christian
truth, as they feel it operating on their own hearts, to the
neglect of this course of observation, some preachers, and able
ones, have addressed men who are shrewd, worldly, and sceptical, only to provoke a smile at their ignorance of mankind.
We are strengthened in our opinion on this subject, by calling
to mind the astonishing knowledge of human nature displayed
by the great founder of the christian system, and by the great
apostle to the Gentiles.  The arguments which they use are
always exactly adapted to the very men to whom they are addressed.  Thle one with the different sects of the Jews, and
the other in his intercourse with the inhabitants of different
cities among the nations which he visited, always seemec perfectly to understand the men they had to deal with. HIence




197
it was, that they were able either to convince their opponents,
or at least put them to silence.
While we would thus insist upon a thorough knowledge of
men, as a necessary pre-requisite for successful argumentation
with intelligent unbelievers, we at the same time would guard
ourselves against running into the opposite extreme, of neglectillng the study of the general principles of theology, and the
duty of self-examination in retirement.  We are well aware
that among the present race of ministers, there are in these
bustling times those who are conversant only with particulars,
with the doings at anniversary celebrations, and with private
history.  We do not dwell at any length upon the deficiencies
of men of this class, because they will not be very apt to undertake to write a work on the evidences of christianity. This
would require study, an employment to which they are not especially addicted.  They neglect books as the others do men.
Now the man who would undertake to write a work, or to
preach sermons, to convince intelligent unbelievers, ought to
be deeply versed in both theological learning, and the knowledge of mankind. He should have attentively studied the
great book of human nature, not merely as theologians are apt
to do, to learn what relations the several faculties of man have
to each other, or to duty and accountableness, but to see the
actual workings of the mind. He should at the hazard of being considered "' a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber, and a
friend of publicans and sinners," place himself on free and familiar terms with sceptical men, gain their confidence, and
then learn what are the true causes which operate to prevent
them from receiving the truth.  He need not be aftraid lest by
associating with them occasionally, lie shall incur the censure
bestowed on the man who countenances their opinions and
practices.  He need not, from the fear that he shall lose their
respect by familiarity with them, adopt the sentiment of the
Roman Emperor, "' Ex longinquo major reverentia;" for if he
is acquainted with theology as a public teacher ought to be,
and if his heart is governed by right motives, he may be sure
that neither the cause of truth nor his own respectability will
suffer.




198
-In the work before us, the author shows that he is intimately acquainted with human nature, and particularly with the
various workings of unbelief in the heart of the infidel.  He
seems to have been accustomed to look at the various ligllts
and sliadows in the characters of men; instead of being satisfied, as some are, with bare generalities.  Had lie been a mere
theologian, lihe could never have written these discourses.  He
seems to hlave collected by observation, a great variety of valuable facts in the mental history of unbelievers, and to have
composed these discourses while those facts were in view.
Hence it is, tlhat lie can 11 lhold the mirror up to nature, slhow
virtue in its own form, scorn its own image," so distinctly
tllat unbelievers of every cast can each see his own shape and
color.  I-e does not indeed enter into a miniute relation of
what he has seen witlh his own eyes.  He is not a story-teller.
But having the power of generalization, lie presents the results
not as common place remarks, but in all thle freshness of original investigation and discovery.  His thoughlts are connected
together by some luminous general principle running through
them.  They are not scattered pearls.  They are presented in
orderly arrangement like gems on a thread of gold.
Another clharacteristic of these Sermons, is, that the argumentation is of a kind that is adapted to produce conviction.
We have read works whicli were written to prove that a revelation from God is desirable and necessary, and that tliere..
fore it may be presumed, that lie would grant a revelation like
tlhat which we lhave.  To this the infidel replies, that human
sagacity cannot determine what course an infinite being
would be likely to take; and that the same reason whllicll leads
us to suppose that lie would grant a revelation to any, would
lead us to expect that he would grant it to all; wlhich lie has
not done.  The reasoning of some theologians on the dealings
of God with mankind, seem to go on the supposition, that the
race have but one intellect, one conscience, one soul, as if some
of the visions of Swedellbourg were true; whereas lie deals
with them as individuals and not in any federal capacity. Indeed, it seems to be supposed by them, that he deals with the




199
whole race collectively, just as a monarch deals with an organized body of rebels.  Now tile difference between mankind as
a race, and such a body, is just this, that the latter from the
circumstance that they are organized, become responsible for
what is done by their representatives; while the race have no
organization which could make all and every one responsible
for the doings of any one man, or body of men.  Tile Bible has
not been given either to every individual of our race, or to any
body of men who might be considered as their representatives;
so that however desirable and necessary revelation may be
proved to be, we cannot from  this, without other evidence,
conclude tlhat a revelation has been given.
Lardner has collected a great mass of historical evidence,
whiclh should be thorougllly examined by every minister of the
gospel; but his work is not very well adapted to effect the
conversion of infidels, not only because it is so voluminous
that they will not be apt to read it, but likewise because thle
arguments are not sufficiently concentrated, to make an impression on an unbelieving heart.  Neither Leland nor Lardner, though they open to us treasures of knowledge, is precisely what is wanted.  Nor does the eloquent work of Chalmers
supply the deficiency.  And as to the external evidences, we
are disposed to think that ten have been made unbelievers by
readinog what Hume and Gibbon have written, for one thlat has
been converted to clhristianity by what Lardner and Chalmers
have written, though the one is so learned and the other so
eloquent.
Other works have been written for the purpose of defending christianity against some particular attack, as for instance,
Watson's Apology for the Bible, and Scott's Vindication of its
inspiration, against the Billingsgate abuse of Paine.  Now in
regard to this class of works, it is to be remarked, that in them
christianity acts on the defensive; and if successful, she merely continues to maintain the ground she had previously occupied.  She throws off her assailants, but makes no new conquests. Now this course of acting only on the defensive would
be fatal to the church. Her course must be "' from conquer



200
ing to conquer."  Two of the greatest generals that the world
ever saw, the one of ancient, the other of modern times, were
invincible as long as they led their armies in offensive war, to
attack other nations.  But when they were called to act on
the defensive, they were conquered.
Christianity was intended by its great author to carry on, without intermission, an offensive war against unbelief and irreligion, such as Jesus and the apostles waged in Judea or
throughout the Roman Empire.  The assailing party has the
advantage of the one that acts on the defensive, fdr the plain
reason that it can always choose the point of attack.  Now,
we hold it to be true in moral reasoning, on wide and complicated suljects, that unanswerable objections and.arguments
can often be brought forward on both sides. If one of the
parties instead of entering into the merits of the whole question, chooses to confine himself to bringing foriward some Unanswerable objections, he has the vantage-ground, as long as
he can keep his antagonist employed in attempting to answer,
what from some peculiar circumstances of the case, is unanswerable.  Christians are not to sit still and let infidels select
their point of attack, and then confine themselves to the single
purpose of defending their cause on that point; but they are
to turn the tables on their opponents, and in the character of
assailants, carry the war directly into the heart of the enemy's
country.  It is in this way only, that they can hope to make
conquests.  They are to let infidels feel that their own bulwarks are weak, and that though they can sound to the attack,
and hurl their missiles briskly against the walls of Zion, they
have no arms of defense with which they can stand against an
enemy in the open field.
Nor should there be in the controversy with infidels, any
waste of strength in attempting to defend facts or principles,
that are of little consequence.  We have sometimes witnessed
controversies oil some trifling subject, which put us in mind
of what is written in an old book entitled, A Discourse of Logomachy, which we recommend to the careful perusal of some
good folks who have an itchinlg for controversy.  "You are




201
mistaken if you think Scaliger and Cardan two such coxcombs-,
as to dispute in earnest, which had the most hairs on its back,
the kid or the goat! The real question in debate was, whicli
of these two gentlemen was the better scholar and the more
ingenious maln."
Nor should there be any use made of the argumentum ad
invidiam, not only because it is disgraceful to the party that
employs it, but also because it is powerless in producing conviction. It is, indeed, easy to represent the opinion of aii antagonist, as dangerous to the interests of society, and himself
as reprobate to every good work.  It is easy to use reviling
language, and instead of debating a matter fairly, like christian gentlemen, to enter into the contest with him like a prizefighter in a bear garden.  But even if you succeed, by raising
a strong popular feeling against him, and thus force him to
silence, have you conviniced him?  Mere human power, let it
be exerted in what way it will, whether by inflicting evil on
the person or the reputation, is totally unable to obtain the assent of the mind to the truth of any doctrine.  This assent
can be obtained only on the perception of tile truth of such a
doctrine.  As long, therefore, as you trust to any thing else
to produce conviction, and not to that sort of evidence which
is adapted to the mind of your antagonist, you laborto no purpose, so far as he is concerned.
We have said, that the author of these Sermons has employed in them  a kind of argumentation that is adapted to
produce conviction.  He avoids, for the most part, the errors
which we have noticed.  He makes but little use of a priori
reasoning,; he says very little about the external evidences;
le neither exhausts his strength upon unimportant points, nor
descends to the use of furious declamation, against the motives of infidels, and the tendency of their principles.  His
great excellence as a reasoner consists in this, that he looks
at infidelity in the very shape which it now wears; and then
selects his argument to meet it in that very shape.'He gives
us very little of the history of infidelity. He says, if we remember right, nothing of Hobbs and Shaftsbury, Tindal and




202
MorTan, and little of Bolingbroke and Hume, and of the mode
in which they may be met.  He just describes the infidelity
of the present age, and plies it with appropriate arguments.
The merit of the reasoning consists in the correctness of thle
observations which he has made of the present character of infidelity, and then in the application of the appropriate truthls.
We can easily believe, that another kind of reasoning would
lhave pleased some minds better.  Lord Bacon remarks that'; anticipations always have a much greater power to entrap the
assent, tlhan interpretations; because, beingl  collected from  a
few familiar particulars, they immediately strike the mind,
and fill the imagination; whereas interpretations being separately collected from  very various and fiom  very  distant
things, cannot suddenly affect the mind."  If Dr. Thompson
had gone through a course of mere common place reasoning,
adorning it witlh the associations of his fine mind; especially
if lie lhad dealt somewhat in startling paradoxes, ultimately
cleared up by some definition of his terms; and more especially, if lie had given his sentences a syllogistic form, and introduced a goodly number of conditional, adversative, and illative conjunctions, sucll as if, but, and therefore, lie migllt have
seemed to some, to reason more powerfully tlhan he now does.
But he had to do with men who lhad been trained to inductive
reasoning, or as Lord Bacon calls it, interpretations, and who
would not be satisfied with what he calls anticipations, or hasty
conclusions.  He mighlt have rung in their ears the language
of denunciation, and they would have laughed like Leviathlan
at the sliaking of the spear, and called for proof.  He might
hlave amused them witli buffoonery and vulgarisms, like some
popular preachers, who sllall be nameless, and they would still
have called for proof.  He miglit have tried upon them thle
power of all the machlinery of a camp meeting, and they would
have still called for proof.  And so lie gave them proof, in language befitting the preacher, the pulpit, and the auditors, dignified yet earnest, pungent and yet decorous.
The infidelity of tile present age is not so much distinguislhed for its opposition to christianity as a whole, as to par



203
ticular doctrines.  The warfare which it wages somewhat resembles Capt. Bobadil's method of defeating an army. It endeavors to destroy the christian system in detail. It comes
in the guise of a friend, into the christian camp, and even uses
the arms which it finds there, against the true and loyal servants of Christ. It employs certain doctrines which it finds
in the bible, against other doctrines which it hates.  Thus,
some endeavor to destroy the credibility of the endless punishment of the wicked.  Some oppose the divinity and some
the humanity of the Savior; or they deny the doctrine of the
atonement, or of justification by faith; or they would desecrate
the sabbath, or annihilate the church as a distinct class in the
community; or they ridicule the duties of devotion, and indeed all the peculiar duties of the gospel. Humility they
would represent as meanness of spirit, and obedience to the
last injunction of Jesus, as a kind of Quixotism.  All this and
more, they will do, though they claim for themselves the name
of christian.  They would thus blot out one by one from the
christian system, each glorious truth, and leave to us naught
but the dark and cheerless waste of naturalism. The time
was, when the legions of infidelity, clad in the panoply of a
false philosophy, exultingly raised the war-cry, as they rushed
into the open field, against "lthe host of God's elect." But
now, they choose to fight under cover, and rely more upon
sappers and miners, than upon the prowess and skill of their
champions. And their numbers have become astonishingly
increased. We are aware, too, that the church generally by
means of voluntary associations and the press, has put on a
greater show of strength; and actually exerts a greater amount
of concentrated efficiency, than it did forty years ago. Indeed,
if you will listen to the speeches delivered on some anniversary
occasions, you would almost feel that the great victory over the
foes of unbelief and irreligion,.is already won, and that the
speakers had come together, not to " animate the battle, but
to chant the triumph."  The managers and agents of these
several associations, very naturally wish to present their claims
to patronage in their full strength, and accordingly dwell con26




204
siderably on what they have accomplished, and what they are
destined to accomplish. But after you have looked at these
bright visions of the prosperity of the church, then go through
the length and breadth of the land, and behold the vast
numbers that seldom  or never visit the sanctuary; that
seldom  or never read the  bible; who seldom  or never
mention God but to profane his name; and who are able, very
generally, to defeat any measure connected with the interests
of religion, whether proposed in town meeting, in the state
legislature, or in the great council of the nation. Go to the
scattered hamlets, as well as to the market places, and learn
in conversation, how many are indifferent to the truths and
duties of religion; how many are rank opposers, though they
may from prudential motives conceal their opposition. Go
and see how the fashionable literature of the age is exerting an
influence unfavorable to purity of faith, upon all classes, even
upon females, teaching them to be doubters, thus falsifying
the declaration of Humre, recorded in the life of Beattie, that
"scepticism is too sturdy a virtue for woman."
When you have thus by actual inspection seen the extent of infidelity in our own country, as well as in the countries of Europe,
you will be prepared to understand the value of such a work
as the one before us. It resolves the different forms of infidelity into one radical principle.  It shows how exactly adapted the gospel is to man, in all his associations, and desires,
and exigencies; so that the inference is inevitable that the
same great being who is the creator of the one, is the author
of the other. The web of Dr. T.'s argument is not like that
of the spider, which entangles the smaller flies, but lets the
stronger ones escape, but it is especially designed for strong
men, who are of full age;' even those who by reason of age
have their senses exercised to discern between good and evil."
Moreover, his argumentation is of such a character, aild
couched in such language, that any intelligent man can easily
understand it. He neither introduces new terms, nor uses
old ones in an uncommon sense. He has no mysticism, no
wire drawn speculations, no hair splitting distinctions: every




205
man who understands the English language can understand
him.  Some men seem to be fond of trying to make their argumentation resemble a chain, each premise and conclusion
successively corresponding to the several links, from the first
principle assumed to the final inference. But in the book before us, the author seems to place various truths before us in
a manner resembling a dissected map. In the empire of
knowledge, he shows us certain provinces of truth in their relative situations, and having brought them together, he shows
that there is a wide space which must be vacant, unless occupied by the province of scriptural truth.  He then introduces
this province into its proper place, and shows how exactly it
fits the other truths by which it is surrounded, and to which
it is related. Now this is to our taste, and is we believe more
convincing in moral subjects, than argumentation arranged in
a different form.
Whatever may have been true at the first promulgation of
the gospel, when the works of Jesus and his apostles bare witness of them, we must at the present day, for the most part,
rely on the internal evidences to prove the truth of revelation;
and for the obvious reason, that they are as to the greater part
of mankind, the only evidences than can be adequately presented. And even upon men of cultivated minds, they are
often more effectual than any other, as we have often had an
opportunity of observing. An instance once fell under our
notice, which very strikingly illustrated the power of the internal evidences.  A gentleman in Virginia, of some talents
and extensive reading, was led by the light of false philosophy
into the cold and dreary domain of infidelity. He exerted the
full force of his powerful and discriminating mind, in the examination of the ablest works on both sides of the question,
especially so far as the historical argument was concerned.
And so fully was he convinced of the falsehood of christianity,
that lie said publicly at a dinner table, around which were assembled some of the most respectable gentlemen in the vicinity, " christianity is a fable, and I. can prove it to be so fiom
history."  But in time affliction came. The death of a be



206
loved wife extinguished the light of joy in his heart.  He was
sad and solitary, seeking rest and finding none. Among the
objects which reminded him of the departed one, was a small
bible, which now became interesting to him because it was
once dear to her. He opened it at the place where she used
to read, and he found that the truths which she loved, were
just the truths which he needed as a sufferer and a sinner.
He continued to read, until in the adaptation of the bible to
the wants, the sins, and the afflictions of man, lie saw coinvincing proof of its divine origin. He became a sincere and
humble believer in revelation.
Before closing this article, we ought perhaps to give an analysis of the work and to make some extracts which may furnish
an illustration of the remarks which we have been led to
make. We have thus far viewed the work as a whole, and
have not fixed our attention on particular passages, as the
texts upon which we have written, or as eminently striking.
The volume is a small one comprised in about two hundred
pages, and will well repay the perusal.  Prefixed to it is a
sensible well written preliminary essay, prepared, we understand, by one of the publishers.
In the first sermon Dr. Thompson lays down this important principle, that' the disbelief of clhristianity in particular,
leads to the disbelief of religion in general."  This he illustrates, first, by an appeal to the past history of deistical writings, the tendency of which has been such, for more than two
centuries, as to convince every impartial observer " that to
atheism we must come at last, if we acquiesce in their positions, and follow out the course which they have pursued."
Secondly, to the character of the prevailing infidelity of the
day, whose distinguishing feature is powerfully shown to be
"a determined hostility, or a settled contempt, for what is sacred,-not merely for the gospel of Christ,-but for'all that
relates to the belief and the service of the living God."
In the second sermon, Dr. Thompson goes on to illustrate
the principle above stated, by appealing, thirdly, to the objections which deists have urged against christianity. These, he




207
shows, when properly estimated, and impartially applied, are
found to bear as strongly against natural as against revealed
religion. These objections are, that christianity contains much
that we cannot comprehend,-that it has not been extended to
our whole race,-that many of its principles are still in controversy among its adherents,-and that it implies what is
miraculous. As to the last objection, Dr. T. enters into a very
ingenious comparison of the grounds of assent to Christ's mission, as supported by miracles, and to the being and attributes of God, as deduced from the phenomena of nature. A
miracle like those phenomena, is a mere fact, attested by evidence. The argument is in both cases inductive. " Certain
ascertained facts are combined with certain acknowledged
first principles; and these conduct the understanding to certain conclusions in which it rests as inevitable." As a fourth
illustration of his leading principle, Dr. Thompson shows, that
the moral causes which lead to deism, will naturally, and almost necessarily, bear the mind forward to open atheism.
These are inconsideration,-intellectual pride,-anld moral
depravity.
In the third sermon, deism is shown to be " hostile in every
respect to the interests of morality;" and in the fourth, to be
" destructive of the comfort and happiness of those who embrace it."  These two sermons are characterized by great compass and power of inductive reasoning, and most eloquent appeals to the conscience and the heart.
In the fifth and sixth sermons, Dr. Thompson shows that
the term " unbeliever" is not to be confined to the mere deist
or atheist.  It belongs, 1. To those'"who reject one part of
Revelation, while they admit the rest."  2. To those " whose
lives are characterized by impiety and immorality."  3. To
those " who exhibit in their practices the decencies, and honesties, and charities of a good life, but do so without any regard to the principles of godliness and the authority of the
gospel."  4. To those " who are characterized by worldlymindedness."  5. To those " who live in the wilful and habitual neglect of religious ordinances." 6. To those " whose




208
conduct mianifests indifference to the preservation and success
of christianity in the world."  These two sermons abound in
just and forcible appeals to that large class of practical unbelievers in christian lands, who are reposing in a calm reliance
on their speculative belief of christianity.
The seventh sermon exhibits with great power, the sinful
nature and awful consequences of unbelief, as to the person to
whom it attaches.  In the eighth and ninth, the whole subject
is applied in distinct address to parents,-to young men,-to
persons of the higher classes,-to those of the lower classes,
-and to ministers of the gospel.  These abound in judicious
and weighty considerations.
The following extract may serve as a specimen of the style
and manner of these sermons.
The very conduct of infidels in spreading their system with so
much eagerness and industry, affords a striking proof that its influence is essentially hostile to human happiness. For what is their
conduct? Why, they allow that religion contributes largely to the
comfort of man,-that in this respect, as well as with respect to
morality, it would be a great evil were it to lose its hold over their
affections,-and that those are no friends to the world who would
shake or destroy their belief in it. And yet, in the very face of
this acknowledgment, they scruple not to publish their doubts and
their unbelief concerning it among their fellow men, and with all
the cool deliberation of philosophy, and sometimes with all the
keenness and ardor of a zealot, to do the very thing which they
profess to deprecate as pernicious to the well-being and comfort of
the species. Whether they are sincere in this profession, or whether
they are only trifling with the sense and feeling of mankind, still it
demonstrates the hardening influence of their principles; and from
principles, which make those who hold them, so reckless of the
peace and order and happiness of their brethren, what can be reasonably expected, but everything which is most destructive of human comfort?
It is true the infidel may be very humane in the intercourse of
life; but, after all, what dependence can be placed upon that humanity of his, which deals out bread to the hungry, and clothing
to the naked, and yet would sacrifice to literary vanity, or to some



209
thing worse, whatever can give support in trial, and consolation at
death? He may sympathize with me in my distress, and speak to
me of immortality, and at the very moment his constitutional kindness may be triumphing over his cold-blooded and gloomy speculations. But his speculations have shed a misery over my heart,
which no language of his can dissipate, and which makes his most
affectionate words sound in my ear like the words of mockery and
scorn. He has destroyed me,and he cannot save me, and he cannot comfort me. At his bidding I have renounced that Saviour in
whom I once trusted, and was happy, and have banished that Comforter, who once dwelt with me, and would have dwelt with me as a
comforter forever. And he now pities me, as if his most pitying tones
could charm away the anguish of my bosom, and make me forget
that it was he himself who planted it there, and planted it so deep,
and nourished it so well, that nothing but the power of that heaven,
whose power I have denied, is able to pluck it out. Yes, after he
has destroyed my belief in the superintending providence of God,
-after he has taught me that the prospect of a hereafter is but the
baseless fabric of a vision,-after he has bred and nourished in me
a contempt for that sacred volume which alone throws light over
this benighted world,-after having argued me out of my faith by
his sophistries, or laughed me out of it by his ridicule,-after having thus wrung from my very soul every drop of consolation, and
dried up my very spirits within me,-yes, after having accomplished
this in the season of my health and my prosperity, he would come
to me while I mourn, and treat me like a drivelling idiot, whom he
may sport with, because he has ruined me, and to whom, in the
plenitude of his compassion,-too late, and too unavailing,-he may
talk of truths in which he himself does not believe, and which he
has long exhorted me, and has at last persuaded me, to cast away
as the dreams and the delusions of human folly I From such comforters may heaven preserve me! "My soul come not thou into
their secrets. Unto their assembly mine honor, be not thou unitedl"
pp. 165-170.




THE CULTIVATION OF THE TASTE.*
Three persons standing on a peak of the mountain range
just north of us would receive very different impressions from
the scene around them. One of them, looking at the objects
before him with a " brute unconscious gaze, " might receive
only a faint and vague impression attended with no emotion.
Hie might, in his indifference say: " I see the river, the meadows and the mountain, but all these I could have seen without climbing to the top of Holyoke. "  Another, looking at
the same objects, might say: "' This is a valuable river-for
bringing down lumber. These are valuable meadows-for
raising grass or broom corn.  These mountains are usefulin furnishing fuel for the inhabitants. " His maxim is:
"The real value of a thing
Is just the money it will bring."
The third is delighted with every part of the landscape all
around him, to the utmost limits of the wide horizon. He
loves to gaze at the river moving on in quiet beauty in long
and graceful windings, as if it were willing to pause here in
its pilgrimage to the ocean. He loves to compare mountain
with mountain, Holyoke with Tom, Sugar-loaf with Toby,
that he may catch the distinctive features and coloring of'
each; while those that are far in the hazy distance he strains
his vision to behold, invested as they are by the imagination
with a mysterious interest.  He sees a beauty in everything
around him; in the wild wood-lands, made vocal; in the
cultivated plains, where men are laboring or cattle grazing;
*An Address delivered at the thirteenth Anniversary of the Mount Holyoke
Female Seminary, South Hadley, Mass., Aug. 2, 1850, by William C. Fowler.




211
in the sloping hills; in the villages with their taper spires;
in the shadows as they chase one another along the earth's
surface; in the blue sky that bends over him; in the Daygod throned in that sky, sending forth his arrows of light.
Drinking the spirit of the whole scene into his soul, he turns
back once and again to behold it as he reluctantly descends
tile mountain.
Do you ask how it happens that the same scene makes such
a different impression upon him, from what it makes upon
the two others?  My answer is, he has a Taste for what is
beautiful and they have not.
The term TASTE is borrowed from one of the bodily senses.
If an appropriate substance be taken into the mouth, the impression on the palate is that of sweetness, or sourness, or
pungency, or bitterness, or saltness.  To these impressions
the term taste was originally applied. This term is now used
in a wider sense as applicable to impressions made upon all
the senses, and also upon the imagination and the higher
powers. According to Alison, it is " That faculty of the human mind by which we perceive and enjoy whatever is beautiful or sublime in the works of nature or of art."  This
definition may be accepted as sufficiently correct for my purpose in the following remarks.
The term beauty was originally applied to objects of sight.
As the epithet sweet denotes what is pleasing to the palate,
and harmonious, what is pleasing to the ear, as what is soft
denotes what is pleasing in objects of touch, so the epithet
beautiful originally denoted what is pleasing to the eye. It is
now used in a wider sense as applicable to objects addressed
to the other senses, and likewise to mental and moral objects.
The inquiry here meets us, is it desirable to possess a taste
for the beautiful in nature and art?
To this question a distinct answer has often been given in
the negative by the lovers of utility, who, in their contempt
for the lovers of beauty, charge them with being a brood of
triflers, moon-struck bards, drones in the hive, born only to
consume the fruits of the earth, and dying only to relieve
society of a burden.
27




212
In opposition to this opinion, I shall, in the following remarks, endeavor to sustain the affirmative of the question.
That God intended we should have a taste for the beautiful,
is evident from many considerations.
The soul of man, the product of his creating skill, is so
related to the external world, in which it is to pass its first
years, that in accordance with the laws of its nature, it feels
emotions of beauty upon the bare presentation of certain material objects.  As in certain cases it perceives truth by intuition, and right by intuition, so it perceives beauty by intuition.  When the philosopher surveys nature in order to
establish the principles of mechanics, his reason is chiefly
concerned.  When the moralist examines the forms of actions in order to discover what is right, his conscience is
brought into requisition. When the poet looks out;upo1n nature in order to discover beauty, his taste is brought into exercise.  Truth, right, and beauty, are thus so related to the
soul of man, that the reason is conversant with the one, conscience with the second, and taste with the third.  There is
therefore the same ground for believing that the Creator intended that the taste should be exercised upon what is beautiful, that there is for believing that he intended that the
reason should be exercised upon what is true, and the conscience upon what is right.  God, the Mighty Parent, gave
to all the race these internal powers to be employed on his
works. Indeed, the love of beauty is a constituent part of
the soul of man, revealed by the infant when he grasps at
the lighted taper, by the child when le chases the rainbow,
and by older persons in their pursuit of various forms of
physical, mental, and moral beauty.
To this constituent principle of the human soul, implanted
by the Creator, external nature is adapted by the same designing mind. I speak not merely of the more striking forms
of beauty and grandeur which sometimes come over the soul
with an overwhelming force.  I speak not of the coming
glories of the morning light, which clothes the mighty form
of nature with its robe of beauty, instead of the pall of dark



213'less. I speak not of the gorgeous coloring of a summer's
landscape in which stream and waterfall, hill and valley, the
far-off mountain and the far-off ocean, the sky above and the
earth beneath, seem to vie with each other for your admiration.  I speak rather of the humble forms of nature; of the
flower that hardly lifts its head among the grass; of the
crystals beneath the earth's surface, which have been styled
the " flowers of minerals;" of the forms and colors of animnals, whether they are inhabitants of the earth, the air, or
the sea. And I ask how it hlappens that the Creator has thus
made everything in nature beautiful oni the one hand, and on
the other, formed the soul of man so that it can take delight
in these objects around it, unless lie intended that man should
have a taste for the beautiful?
The same thing is evident from the services of the Jewish
religion, established by Jehovah.  He not only brought the
children of Israel into a goodly land, in which was the glory
of Lebanon, the excellency of Carmel, and beautiful for situation, Mount Zion, the joy of the whole earth on the side of
the north, but in the services of religion, he took especial
care that their taste for the beautiful should be consulted and
cultivated. In the construction of the tabernacle, not only
the most costly materials were used, but as peculiar skill was
necessary, he raised tp Bezaleel the son of Uri, and Aholiab
the son of Ahisamach, filling them with wisdom and understanding in all manner of workmanship, to have the entire
charge of the whole business. He did not, however, leave it
to these workmen, or even to Moses, to contrive the form of
the sacred building in any respect.  He himself formed the
plan of the building and of the furniture in the most minute
particularity, and then solemnly charged Moses, saying "s see
that thou make them after their pattern which was showed
thee in the mount. "  I cannot stop to describe the gorgeous
workmanship of the tabernacle and its furniture. You remember how the sides of it were ornamented with planks of
shittim wood, covered with gold, and supported onil ninety-six
massive sockets of silver, every socket weighing a talent,




214
how the curtains, ten in number, were made of fine twined
linen, and blue and purple and scarlet, made with cherubims
of cunning work, how each of these curtains were twentyeight cubits long and four broad, furnished with clasps of
gold. I will say nothing of the splendid altar, of the golden
candlestick, with its bowls, knobs, and flowers, or of the altar
of incense, or of the ark of the covenant, or of the mercy
seat, and the cherubs, with their outstretched wings of pure
gold, looking towards each other. Between these cherubs,
God dwelt in a visible brightness. Besides this there was a
temple built according to the command of the same God, at
an expense of " a hundred thousand talents of gold and a
thousand thousand talents of silver, and of brass and iron
without weight by reason of abundance."  Seen at a distance,
by those who were approaching the city, it appeared, it is
said, "like a mountain covered with snow;" for all over, except where broad plates of gold and silver dazzled the eye,
it glistened with the whiteness of wrought marble.  "He
that never saw Jerusalem  in her glory, " say the ancient
Jewish Doctors, "' never saw a lovely city; and he that never
saw the temple, with its buildings, never saw the most noble
palace under the sun. "  The city was called," The perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth. "  Here God
chose His dwelling place. He loved the beauty which he
intended we should love. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" to God and to man.
In the heavenly Jerusalem, He also appeals to the love of
the beautiful. " And He called me, "says the Apostle John,' away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and shewed
me that great city the holy Jerusalem, descending out of
heaven from God, having the glory of God: and her light
was like unto a stone most precious," "And the building of
the wall of it was like jasper; and the city was pure gold,
like unto clear glass. And the foundations of the wall of the
city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. The
first foundation was jasper; the second sapphire; the third
a chalcedony; the fourth an emerald; the fifth a sardonyx;




215
the sixth a sardius; the seventh a chrysolite; the eighth,
beryl; the ninth a topaz; the tenth a chrysoprasus; the
eleventh, a jacinth; the twelvth, an amethyst.  And the
twelve gates were twelve pearls; every gate was of one pearl.
And the streets of the city were pure gold, as it were transparent glass. " 9 And he showed me a pure river of water
of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God
and the Lamb."
What the utilitarian would say to this course of thought, I
know not, but to me it is evident from the constitution of our
minds, to which nature around us is adapted, from the services of the Jewish religion, and from the description of heaven, that God the Creator of all, and the Author of true religion, intended that we should have a taste for the beautiful
and the sublime in this world and in heaven as he has.
But taste is, however, possessed by men in very different
degrees. I would beg leave therefore to offer a few remarks
on the origin of this diversity.
There is a difference in the constitutional susceptibility of
individuals to the emotions of beauty, upon the perception of
the same object; just as there is a difference in the bodily
senses or in the faculty of reason. Thus one person has originally a keener relish for music than another, discoverable
even when they were infants. The soul of one, in its constitutional susceptibilities, may have been more finely touched
to each fine impulse, than the soul of another.
There is also a difference among men arising from the improved perception of beauty which some have acquired beyond
others. Two men will agree in admiring " Auld Lang Syne "
upon the first hearing, who would differ entirely in their
emotions upon hearing for the first time one of Beethoven's
Symphonies. The cause of this difference may be found in
the circumstance that one of them  has cultivated his perceptions so that he can from the very first understand this
latter tune, while the other cannot either understand or admire it until he has heard it several times. If two persons
should read Milton's Paradise Lost, one of them might per



216
ceive muclh more beauty than the othller, from having cultivated his perception of beauty.
Moreover there is a difference among men inll this respect,
arising from their difference in imagination.  In the contemplation of an object, the emotion of beauty may be excited
by the imagination, which will often assemble around the object contemplated, other objects connected with it by some
law of association, which will throw upon it some of their
own beauty. Let a person of a feeble imagination, but slightly acquainted with the history of New England, visit the
landing place of the pilgrim  fathers.  To him, Plymouth
rock would be as any other rock, the beach, as any other
beach. But if one of the sons of those sires, animated by
their spirit, and acquainted with their history, should stand
there, his imagination, if an active one, would fill the whole
scene with objects of the deepest interest, which would lend
their beauty to every visible object around him. HEe sees
that bark tossing in the bay. He sees the weather-beaten
mariners on the beach. He hears their praises for deliverance, and their prayers for protection. He then thinks of
the fair inheritance which their posterity enjoy in answer to
their prayers.  Thus his imagination, associating with the
scene objects of interest, invests it with a beauty that awakens, even in the gloom of December, the deepest emotions of
his soul.
There is also a difference among men, arising from difference of' judgment. In the contemplation of an object, the
emotion of beauty may be excited by the judgment, which
may pronounce it true to nature.  If Napoleon, or General
Washington should be exhibited in a painting, ill the dress
of a priest, our judgment would tell us that the painter had
made a mistake in not giving a military man a military costume. A palm tree represented in Canadian scenery, would
be a deformity, because the judgment would pronounce it not
true to nature.  When a vessel sails well, the sailors call her
a " beauty;" for their judgment decides that she is adapted
to the end for which she was designed. A house that is em



217
inently convenient, commends itself to a man in whom judgment predominates, as a beautiful house. "If I had seen a
ghost," says Partridge in Tom  Jones, on seeing Garrick in
fHamlet, "' I should have acted exactly as that little mall did."
His judgment being satisfied that Garrick personated the
ghost correctly, excited ill his mind the emotion of beauty.
From these causes it happens that some have a delicacy of
perception beyond others, which enables them  to discover
beauty in every combination.'" It is with good reason, " said
Sancho Panza, in Don Quixote, to the Squire with the great
nose,  that I pretend to have judgment in wine. This is a
quality hereditary in. our family.  Two of my kinsmen were
once called upon to give their opinion of a hogshead of wine,
which was supposed to be old, and of a good vintage. One of
them tastes it, considers it, and pronounces it to be good,
were it not for a small taste of leather which lie perceived ill
it. The other, after having used the same precautions, gave
his verdict also in favor of the wine, but with the reserve of
a taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish.  You cannot imagine how they were both ridiculed for their judgment.
But who laughed in the end?  On emptying the hogshead,
there was found at the bottom an old key with a leather thong
tied to it. "  The close analogy between mental and bodily
taste, will lead us to apply this story. A quick and delicate
perception of beauty and deformity must be the perfection
of our mental taste; nor can a man be satisfied with himself
while he suspects that any excellence or blemish in a work
of art has passed unobserved.
The question then very naturally suggests itself, is this talent improveable?
Both analogy and facts abundantly prove that it is improved
by cultivation, like the judgment or the senses. When an
object of beauty is first presented to an uncultivated mind,
the taste cannot perceive the excellence of the performance;
much less distinguish the particular character of each excellence, and ascertain each quality and degree. But allow one
to acquire experience in thle class of objects to which it be



218
longs, he not only perceives the beauties and defects of each
part, but marks the distinguishing species of each quality,
and assigns to it suitable praise or blame. The mist dissipates which. once hung over it. In a word, the same dexterity which practice gives to the execution of any work of art,
is also acquired by the same means in judging of it.
" It has frequently happened, " says Sir Joshua Reynolds,
" that many of those whom the keeper of the Vatican had
conducted through the edifice, when about to be dismissed,
have inquired for the works of Raphael, and would not believe they had already passed through the rooms where they
were preserved, so little impression had these works made on
them. One of the first painters in France once told me that
this circumstance happened to himself. I remember very
well my own disappointment when visiting the Vatican, but
on confessing my feelings to a brother student, of whose ingenuousness I had a high opinion, he acknowledged that the
works of Raphael had the same effect on him, or rather that
they did not produce the effect which he expected. This was
a great relief to my mind.
"In justice to myself, I ought to say, that though disappointed and mortified at not finding myself enraptured with
the works of this great master, I did not for a moment
conceive or suppose that the name of Raphael, and those
admirable works in particular, owed their reputation to the
ignorance and prejudice of mankind. On the contrary, my
not relishing them, as I was conscious I ought to have done,
was one of the most humiliating circumstances that ever
happened to me.
"It was necessary, as was expressed on a very solemn
occasion, that I should become a little child. I viewed them
again and again; and in a short time new perceptions began
to dawn upon me."
This is an exact description of the origin and growth of a
taste for the beautiful in nature and in art.
Many a young person has been deeply pained by a sense of
his deficiency in a taste for what is beautiful. Neither music




219
nor poetry, sculpture nor painting, architecture nor landscape
gardening, which are appropriately called  the fine arts,
attract his admiration.  Nature, too, however bright she may
be above, or below, whether with her earthly or her heavenly
face, has no charms for him.
You ask what such a one ought to do?  Shall he sit down
in despair?  Shall he learn to despise and ridicule in others
what he does not possess himself?  I answer, lie should do
just what Sir Joshua Reynolds did, in order to improve his
taste in a particular branch of art. He should diligenltly
study the objects of taste in nature which is always before
him, and in the fine arts so far as he has an opportuiiity.  In
short, lie should do the same substantially tlhat lie does. in the
improvement of his reason or his conscience.  If a man
wishes to improve his Reason, what course does lie take?
Why lhe betakes himself to the investigation of tlhings, that
is of real existences, whether they are material substances or
the actions or opinions of men; discovers their relations,
and then comes to his conclusions.  Besides this, lle may
examine the principles of reasoning as they are developed in
the arguments of others or in logic. If lie wishes to improve
his Conscience, he carefully considers the moral relations of
those actions which fall under his notice; or he studies the
functions of conscience and the rules for its direction in some
work on moral philosophy or in the Bible. He too who
wislhes to improve his Taste, can go either directly to nature
and apply his mind to those objects in which beauty resides;
or he can go directly to those works of art which are composed upon correct principles and are in accordance with
nature whether in the world of vision, the world of thougllt,
or the world of passion.
But you say, that living as we do in a country where but
little attention has been paid to the fine arts, we cannot have
access to those models of beauty which might in tlheir contemplation improve the taste.  There is truth in this remark.
But shall we, because we have not the best possible advantages, neglect those which we do enjoy?  We have not before
28




220
us the best possible specimens of architecture; we have not
before us the Partllenon, still the ornament of Athens, or St.
Peter's, the glory of Rome; yet any one who chooses, can
become acquainted with the principles of architectural beauty
so far that he can understand what it is that constitutes the
difference between an awkward, ill contrived house and one
that is graceful and attractive. You may not have before
you, in statuary, the Apollo Belvidere and the Dying Gladiator, or in painting, the Last Supper, by De Vinci, and the
Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo.  But casts in plaster
can, in a good degree, supply deficiencies in the one branch
of art, and the graver on copper-plate, and the pencil on
stone, are furnishing very beautiful illustrations of the other.
In both, original productions of native genius are, every year,
whether in private collections, in Art-Unions, and Academies,
increasing and becoming accessible to all for the improvement of the public taste. You can hardly take up a handsome book, without finding in it beautiful engravings.  In
landscape gardening, which has been considered as one of
the fine arts, great progress has been made in our country
within a few years, so that it is not very uncommon to find
grounds tastefully laid out.  Music and  poetry, the two
remaining branches of the fine arts, every one has an opportunity to study who chooses, since every one has access to
books or recitations for the one, and to the living teacher or
performer for the other. I would gladly persuade every one
who wishes to improve his taste that he can have such an
acquaintance with the fine arts, some of them at least, that
they will be of great service to him. By accurate observation, by carefully comparing one specimen of art with another,
his perceptions become acute, his judgment correct, and the
emotion of beauty a strong one in his soul. Thus genius,
which ever has a passionate admiration for the beautiful
forms and harmonious colorings of nature, embodies them in
works of art, that others may learn to admire. when thus
embodied, what in nature would hardly have attracted their
notice.




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But in order to improve your taste, you must above all,
seek for beauty in the visible forms of nature, as it stands in
its freshness, commending itself to the common heart of man.
You must carefully look for beauty of color, beauty of form,
and beauty of sound, and beauty of motion, as it is found in
every part of the world around you and above you. And
besides this, you should carefully notice whether the beauty
which you admire in an object is original and inherent, or
whether it is relative and reflected; as some objects shine by
their own, and some by borrowed light. Thus you may
regard some&tree as beautiful, on account of the form of its
trunk and branches, the color of its foliage and flowers, or
its motion in the breeze.  In this case it is the inherent beauty of the tree that excites your admiration.  Or you may
regard the tree as beautiful because it reminds you of the
pleasant hours you have spent in its shade, of the sports of
your childhood, of the birds which sang in its branches, of
the dear friend with whom you sat in a summer's day, beneath it.  In this case, it is the borrowed beauty of the tree
that excites your emotions.
I have spoken both of going to nature and to art for the
improvement of your taste. I will add that great advantage
will often result from  comparing the one with the other.
Thus if you wish to improve your taste either for external
nature or for descriptive poetry, compare a scene in nature
with the description of some such scene by a distinguished
poet. For example, to follow a hint of Isaac Taylor, visit
some water-fall with Southey's celebrated description of the
Cataract of Lodore in your hand. Then compare the scene
before you with the description, in all the particulars which
are indicated by the multitude of epithets so playfully employed.  Nature, thus interpreted by art, would fix your
attention upon the beauty of the water-fall described, and
thus quicken your sensibility to the beauties of all similar
scenes.  Or you may go through the same process with
Cowper's Address to Winter, or with any other well written
description of external nature. You can also derive great




222
benefit from trying to produce from your own conceptions or
from imitation, something that is beautiful.  The very effort,
whether successful or unsuccessful, will give you a more
distinct idea of the qualities in which beauty is found, and
also of the impression which it produces on your own mind.
An earnest attempt to make a beautiful drawing of an object,
to write a beautiful lhand, to compose a beautiful sentence, to
cultivate beautiful flowers, or even to make a beautiful garment, can hardly fail to improve your taste, for it makes
your conceptions more distinct, and teaches you what is the
cause of your success or your failure.
As contributinlg to the same end, you will find great advantage in the general improvement of your minds from observation and reflection, from  reading and conversation.  One
person will, upon reading a passage in Milton's Paradise
Lost, or upon visiting Athens, or upon gazing at some historical painting, feel strongly within him the emotion of sublimnity from associations which can be awakened only in a mind
highlly cultivated.  While it is true that a, mind can be furnished with stores of knowledge, and yet be deficient in
taste, it is also true that a vacant mind cannot enjoy the
same associations which a full mind can.  If you are deficient
in taste for a class of subjects because your mind is vacant
of knowledge pertaining to them, the remedy is obvious.
Furnish your mind with stores of thoughts and facts connected with these subjects, and innumerable bright forms of
beauty will dawn upon your soul.  These forms will no
longer be to you " as is a landscape to a blind man's eye,"
but distinct visions " swarming with enchantment," along
your daily walks.
" Earth will breathe in one great presence of the spring;
Life will turn the meanest of her implements
Before your eyes to price above all gold."
In these several ways your perceptions and your sensibilities will be brought into harmony with that standard of taste
recognized by the common heart of man, and distinctly
exhibited in the fine arts.




228
But you ask me what are the advantages of having a cultivated taste.
One advantage is found in the enjoyment which it affords.
Go where you will, you will find the beauties of nature open
before you; and whether you have the property, you may
have the enjoyment of some of the wonders of art. If you
have a cultivated taste, your soul is always in harmony with
external nature.
"For you the Spring
Distils her dews, and from the silken Gem
Its lucid leaves unfold. For you the hand
Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold and blushes like the morn.
Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings;
And still new beauties meet your lonely walks,
And loves unfelt attract you. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends, but whence your bosom can partake
Fresh pleasure unreproved."'"On one of the last mornings of our stay in Athens," says
our countryman, Dr. Robinson, "I went very early to the
Acropolis to see the sun rise over Mount HIymettus.  The
morning was clear and cold. I was alone upon the Acropolis,
in the midst of the solemn grandeur of its desolations.
Seating myself within the ruins of the Partlhenon, where the
eye could command the whole horizon through the columns
of the eastern portico, I waited for the rising sun.  The
whole sky was so resplendent, that for a long time I could
not determine the point where the orb of day would appear.
The sunlight already lay upon the eastern plain, and on the
northern mountains, falling between Hymettus and Pentelicus. Small fleecy clouds came floating on the north wind;
and as they hovered  over Hymettus and were met by the
rays of the sun, were changed to liquid gold.  At length, the
first beams fell upon the Parthenon and lighted up its marble
and its columns with a silvery splendor. It was one of those
moments in the life of man that can never be forgotten."




224
It may not be our lot to visit Attica.  But go where we will
we can behold architecture raised by the Great Builder of all,
this "majestical roof fietted with golden fire," more solemn
and grand than the Parthenon.  Elsewhere we can behold
other mountains ascending as high as the Hymettus, other
streams flowing as beautiful as the Illyssus, other woods waving as well as those over " Delphi's steep."  Elsewhere the
sun, rising as glorious, changes the clouds into "liquid gold."
The man of cultivated taste sees and enjoys them all.
" The meanest flowret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening paradise.
As every one should have some regular and stated occupation, so every one should have some seasons of relaxation
and leisure, when he can lay down the weapons of his labor.
Apollo does not always bend the bow. It is in those seasons
of leisure that the man of taste has resources above those
who are devoted to mere sensual eInjoyments, to the neglect
of refined pleasures.  "In those rural seasons of the year,"
says Milton, " when the air is calm  and pleasant, it were an
injury and sullenness against Nature, not to go out and see
her riches and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and
earth." It is only the man of cultivated taste that can cordially partake with Nature in her rejoicing.
Another advantage of a cultivated taste is found in the
improvement which it communicates to the useful arts.  As
beauty is associated with truth in all that is theoretical, so
it is connected with utility in all that is practical. A man of
taste will make a better shoe or a better coat, a better plow
or a better wagon, than another, for the plain reason that
much of the beauty consists in the adaptation to the end as
all of the utility does. And the products of his skill will
meet with a ready sale, even to those who profess to be governed only by utility.  In certain articles, France and" Italy
command the market of the world because they show more
taste in their manufacture than any other nation; just as




225
individuals command the smaller markets, or bear off the
palm at industrial fairs, for the same reason. Many a manufacturer has made his fortune simply by combining in a
single article the beautiful with the useful. And in the
domestic arrangements of a family taste has also much to do
in promoting comfort, inasmuch as it promotes that neatness
and orderly arrangement which are essential to health and
quiet. Many a city and many a family have suffered from
diseases which they would have escaped had they, under the
influence of taste, been cleanly in their persons, and habitations, and streets.  So too in agriculture, the most beautiful
farms are generally the most profitable; the most beautiful
meadows are the most productive; the most beautiful fields
of grain are those which yield the largest harvest; the most
beautifiul animals are the most valuable.  In houses, in furniture, in dress, in all the necessary arts, beauty is sought for
as the concomitant of utility.  This is true universally, except in cases where individuals are the most degraded or
where nations are lowest in the scale of barbarism.
Another advantage of having a cultivated taste is that it
helps to free him who has it from  the arbitrary power of
Fashion, that fickle goddess that rules the multitude.  You
well know that great numbers are governed in their opinions
as to what is right, as to what is true, as to what is beautiful
by Fashion, as if she were the sovereign arbitress over the
intellect, the conscience, and the taste.  Is that true?  Yes,
for every body says so. Is that right? Yes, it is the general custom.  What a beautiful bonnet that is! Yes, it is of
the latest fashion.  Indeed'" beautiful" and " fashionable "
are by many considered as synonymous. Thus it happens
that what is beautiful niow, was, in their estimation, ugly ten
years since, as it will be again ten years hence. To show
the absurdity of many of these fashions, it was once proposed
by a celebrated wit that a depository should be established
for all the various fashions in dress that successively prevail,
so that at a glance the follies might be seen into which men
run. The evils produced by fashion in matters of taste, if




226
not as great as those produced by matters pertaining to truth
and duty, are sufficiently great to attract our notice. Now
the reason why dress or furniture, or language or manners
appear beautiful when in fashion, and the reverse when not,
is that when in fashion, they are beautiful from associations
which are destroyed as soon as they cease to be in fashlion.
Now if the mind by cultivation were fixed on the permanent
principles of beauty, instead of being placed on these evanescent associations " these meteors of caprice, these new
blown bubbles of the day," it would not be changed from
admiration to disgust, and from disgust to admiration, according as the same thing is fashionable at one time and
unfashionable at another.  It would understand the nature
of the illusions to which itself and others have yielded.  It
would bring every thing regarded as beautiful to a fixed
standard, and would cease to be capricious.  Do you say that
tastes are different, and that there is no standard? You may
say this when your own taste is called in question; but you
should never say it when you call in question the tastes of
others, since by so doing you offend their personality representing yourself as superior to them.  The very fact that
you call in question the taste of another, implies that there
is a standard to which you refer his taste.  Opinions are
different, but still there is a standard of truth.  The moral
habits of men are different, but still there is a standard
of right.  Tastes are different, still there is a standard of
beauty. In order to become acquainted with the principles
of correct taste, works which treat upon the subject should
be carefully studied and their doctrines applied to the various
olbjects of taste which come under your notice.  Whethler
these works differ in some respects from each other or not,
is of little consequence, in comparison with the fact thlat
they agree in their influence upon the mind in giving breadth
and exactness to its views.  Burke may dwell more upon
the objective view, presenting us with those qualities in external things which produce the emotions of beauty.  AlisoJn
may dwell more on the subjective view, presenting to us the




227
emotions themselves in their relations to each other, as they
exist in the soul. They may agree, however, in elevating
the mind from the tyranny and the caprice of fashion into
the appreciation of those principles of beauty and of taste
which are founded in nature and which are permanent.
Another advantage of having a cultivated taste is found in
the improvement which it communicates to the other faculties of the mind. I need not say to you that whatever has a
tendency to take off the attention from low and gross pursuits,
and fix it upon what is elevated, refines and improves the
mind. The greater the susceptibility one has to a beautiful
object, the stronger impression it will make upon his mind,
the more lively will be his curiosity, and the more thorough
will be his investigation. An object of beauty is related to
the judgment as well as to the sensibility. Accordingly the
received doctrine is that the grand characteristics of taste
are deducible to two, delicacy and correctness.' Tlie first'of
lihese implies a high degree of senilsility', the'second a sound
judgment. A man in the cultivation of his taste will often
be led to inquire why it is that this object and that excite in
his mind the emotion of beauty; and in answering this inquiry, his reasoning faculty will be exercised and strengthened.
Thus in aiming at correctness of taste his judgment will be
improved.  Delicacy of taste implies sensibility even to
minute beauties, and sensibility is favorable to the exercise
of the imagination.  By the cultivation of the taste the
imagination is furnished with materials from which it can
select groups of beautiful ideas which others will admire.'Thus taste is closely connected with genius. Indeed it may
with some truth be said that genius is but taste in its extacy;
and that taste is but genius in its repose. The great charm
of Cowper's poetry consists in the selection of beautiful
thoughts on common subjects, which his imagination, improved by the cultivation of his taste, enabled him to make.
Thus we may understand how it is that the cultivation of the
taste improves the mind in all its faculties, imparting eagerness to the attention, retentiveness to thie memory, discrimination to the judgment, and activity to the imagination.
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228
Another advantage of having a cultivated taste is found in
the improvement which it communicates to the social affections. Many objects of desire beget selfishness in those who
pursue them. Inasmuch as they can fall to the lot of only
a few, they produce rivalry in all, disappointment in the
losers, and it may be pride in the winners. This is true of
the objects of ambition, of avarice, of pleasure. The social
feelings of two men who are striving as candidates for the
same office, will not be improved by the competition.  Go
then to the political caucus, to the marts of commerce, to
the halls of justice, and you can see causes in operation to
keep men apart, and to widen the distance between them.
Thus it happens that instead of the law of attraction, which
ought to bind men together in sweetest harmony, the law of
repulsion reigns.
Now the difference between an object of taste and these
other objects is, that two persons, who admire the same object of taste, love each other the more, on account of this
common admiration. What delightful friendships have existed between the lovers of nature and of the fine arts;
between Raphael and Julio Romano, Gray and West, Southey
and Wordsworth! When Dupaty was enjoying the exquisite
landscapes at Tivoli, he exclaims, " Why are you not here,
my children, who are so dear to me, my Adela, my Adrian,
my Eleonora, my Augustus, to pluck these beautiful flowers?
How delightful it would be to see them dispersing themselves
among the groves, striving to trample down these grass plots,
hiding themselves in all these in the shades of evening! "
Go into a family who are bound together by their common
love of music, or of landscape-gardening, or of poetry, or
even of house-plants, and you will be convinced that this
common love for the same objects of beauty has a permanent as well as a delightful influence on the social affections.
The celebrated Haydn, loaded with years and with honors,
derived the most delightful enjoyments from tuning those
simple airs which he sung with his father and mother, when
being a child he stood between them, and beat time with two




229
pieces of wood, one of which served him for a violin and the
other for a bow. Many a one like him has found that the
pleasures of taste, enjoyed in the family, have kept alive his
affections for kindred long after they have been sleepers in
dust.
Communities likewise in which there is a taste for public
and  private improvements, in beautifying parks, or the
streets, or the gardens, or the burial grounds, or in erecting
monuments or statues, show more of genuine friendly feeling
in private intercourse and to strangers, than do those commnunities in which the love of gain or party spirit is the
master passion. Napoleon, in the midst of reverses, when
all Paris was in a state of extreme agitation, ordered the
dome of one of the conspicuous public buildings to be covered with gilding; for he knew that the minds of the Parisians, withdrawn from agitating topics by this beautiful object,
would be calmed into quiet. The God of Israel intended
that the magnificent temple, the common object of attraction,
to the nation, should be the means of union among the
tribes; for lie knew that those who walked about Zion, and
numbered her towers, and marked her bulwarks, and coinsidered her palaces, would be prepared to pray for the peace of
Jerusalem.
There is some foundation indeed for the opinion that those
religious denomiilations among Christians show most of the
love, and gentleness, and sincerity of the gospel in the intercourse of private life, which are distinguished for the
cultivation of taste. The Moravians might be mentioned in
the way of illustration.  " Their burying ground is a garden,
the walks in which are marked out by funeral stones for the
living as well as for the dead. By the side of each stone is
placed a flowering shrub. On Easter day divine service is
performed in the garden, at which the resurrection is announced inl the midst of the tombs. All present at this act
of worship know the stone that is to be placed over their
coffin, and already breathe the perfume of the young tree
whose leaves and flowers will fall upon their graves."




230
Another advantage of having a cultivated taste is found in
its moral effects upon the heart.  The objects of taste,
whether found in the fine arts or in nature, withdraw the
attention from temptations which seduce the soul from duty
and from God. They calm the temper which is liable to be
disturbed by the cares of business and the disappointments
of life. Nature around and above is but an image of Him
who is the first Good and the first Fair. It is hardly possible
therefore to look at the beauties of nature without having
the mind raised towards Him whom they thus image forth.
As it was out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, that God
shone, so from the higher beauties of nature He shines forth
still.  Whenever the objects of the material world afford
delight, they are the signs or expressions of the higher qualities by which our moral sensibilities are called forth. They
are the reflections of the image of God. Devotion and the
emotions of beauty are naturally associated in the mind.
Accordingly in the scriptures the most devout feelings are
expressed in the beauty of poetry, and in the services of the
temple, music, by divine authority, was made to lend its
attractions to duty. " While Canitz, one of the German
poets, was upon the bed of death, he requested to be raised
on his couch in order to take a last look of the setting sun.
Oh, said he, if a small part of the Eternal's creation can be
so exquisitely beautiful as this, how mucll more beautiful
must be the Eternal himself! "  Thus divine truth beaming
into the mind through the medium of a cultivated taste,
kindles up the flame of devotion on the altar of the heart.
Attracted then by the beauties of nature toward the High
and Holy One who made them serve Hinm in the beauty of
holiness on earth, and He will beautify you with His image
in Heaven. Having while on earth been led by your admiration of physical beauty in the works of nature and art, to
the higher admiration of the moral beauty of which He is
the perfect expression, He will cause you to " be what you
admire," when He glorifies you in His presence.
Thus have I endeavored distinctly, though briefly, to set




231
forth some of the advantages of cultivating the taste, that I
might persuade all who hear me, and especially the young,
to enter uponi a course of self-improvement in some such
manner as the one I have described. Do you wish to increase the innocent enjoyments of your earthly existence?
Do you wish to promote improvements in the useful arts?
Do you wish to free yourself from thej arbitrary power of
fashion? Do you wish to improve the other faculties of your
mind, and your social affections, and your moral feelings?
Carefully cultivate your taste for what is beautiful in nature,
in art, in moral sentiment, and in great and virtuous actions.
In this seminary, we rejoice to believe that the pupils are
instructed in the elements of truth as related to the reason,
the elements of duty as related to the conscience, the elements of beauty as related to the taste. The principles
adopted here, you will carry out with you into practical life.
We rejoice to know that many have gone forth from this
seminary after having enjoyed the advantages of the prescribed course, with an earnest and devoted attachment to
truth and duty in their various forms, and to the beautiful in
nature and art, in moral sentiment and conduct. We rejoice
to know that in the domestic circle and in the school, they
are now in many States in our wide country, teaching as well
as acting out the principles which they learned here, and
showing, each in her own sphere, something of that love of
order, that beauty of arrangement, that decorum, and neatness, and propriety which prevail here. We have seen some
of them, each in a circle of confiding pupils, imparting to
other minds the principles of learning and religion which
they have received in this seminary. We have seen them in
woman's world, her home, each in the center of that world,
by an attractive influence, binding in accordance sweet every
member of the household system to its own orbit of duty,
and diffusing light aid joy to every part of that system.
And we can see some of them now with the eye of faith after
sinking in the waters of death, rising in the firmament of
the new heavens, " glittering like the morning star, full of




232
life, and splendor, and joy." In their light beaming on you
from that clear upper sky, you can still walk.
Before closing this address, I would say in the name of
this great assembly, that we rejoice to meet those, who on
this day are to close their connection with this seminary, and
to go forth into the community to illustrate and diffuse the
principles which they have learned here, and to send forth a
radiant and gentle influence in their several spheres. Allow
mie, my young friends, as you are about to part from teachers
and friends tenderly loved, to express our best wishes for
your welfare. May you carry with you the light of heaven
ill your hearts to cheer you on your earthly pilgrimage. Do
what you have to do in this scene of action, in a beautiful
womanly spirit, with modesty.  Suffer what you have to
suffer in this vale of tears, inl a beautiful womanly spirit,
with patience.  Cultivate in yourselves and in others, the
love of the true, the good, the perfect, and the beautiful, so
far as you find them on earth.
It may indeed be your lot to be placed in circumstances
not favorable to the cultivation of your taste. It may be
your lot to pass your life in want, in weariness, in watching,
toiling on, suffering on at the calls of duty.  While thus in
thle patience of hope and the labor of love, you prove that
you aim to be
"A creature not too bright and good
For human nature's daily food,"
still, though embarrassed by the necessities of your condition, so cultivate your taste that your soul
"Will be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Your memory a dwelling place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies."
And if in your external circumstances it should be your
fortunate lot to dwell in the midst of scenery more lovely,
to form purer friendships, to witniess virtues more attractive
than you have found here, still in memory you will delight to
return to this lovely landscape, to the dear friends whose




233
hearts in graceful sympathy were knit to yours, to the beautiful devotions in which you were accustomed to unite. And
when those forms now in the fulness of youthful life, shall be
disfigured by time, and those faces now bright with joy shall
have faded, and those hearts now beating with strong pulsations shall be hushed in death, may your souls, freed from
their clay, ascend on high to behold there in full vision the
first true, the first good, the first perfect and the first fair,
and to be changed into that divine image from glory to
glory.




READING AS A MEANS OF CULTURE.
In the early ages of the world, before the art of writing
was invented, men had to depend, for the acquisition of
knowledge, chiefly upon oral instruction. In this way, each
generation were, in turn, the pupils of the preceding, and the
teachers of the following generation in the reception and the
transmission of the traditionary lore of the times. And as
the family bond was then a strong one, each child was, in a
preeminent sense, the pupil of his parent, and each patriarch
was, in a preeminent sense, the teacher of his clhild, when he
" sat with him in the house, and when he walked with him
by the way, when he lay down, and when he rose up."
After the invention of alphabet-writing, and before that of
printing, oral instruction was still the principal means of imparting knowledge.  Readers were few; books still fewer,
and not accessible; transcription was expensive. So valuable,
indeed, were some works, that, in order to obtain the loan of
a book, it was necessary to pledge an estate for its safe return.
Indeed, in some instances, books were kept chained, so that
they could not be removed from the place where they were
kept.
But since the art of making paper was invented, and, as
related to this, the art of printing, a mighty change has taken
place in respect to the number of books and the number of
readers. In our own country, especially in this part of our
country, where all enjoy the advantages of popular education,
all are readers.
All, therefore, must be interested in the subject which I
have chosen, namely, READING AS THE MEANS OF SELFCULTURE.




235
In treating this subject, I hope, in some degree, to supply
a felt want frequently expressed by those who are engaged in
self-culture, whether they are at school or at home, whether
they are at college, or engaged in some professional employment.
)What end shall I aim at in reading?
What time shall I spend in reading?
iWhat mode shall I adopt in reading?
What books shall I read?
~ These are interrogatories prompted by a desire of selfimprovement on the part of the modest and earnest aspirant,
whatever be his position; and they demand a careful and a
correct answer.
WHAT, THEN, IS THE END TO BE AIMED AT IN READING?
Now, a large class of readers propose to themselves no end
at all in their reading.  They feel attracted to the page of a
book, or to the column of a newspaper, just as they are to a
garden of flowers, or to a winding river.  They have no purpose in view; they have no object to be accomplished. The
act of reading terminates in itself, so far as any end is concerned. It is just a matter of present gratification, of present amusement.
Another class read only to kill time, which otherwise would
hang heavily on their hands. Their minds are listless, or
they are tormented with sad thoughts, or inward upbraidings,
or remorse, or shame, from which they wish to escape; and
by killing time in this escape fiom themselves, so far forth,
they commit suicide.
Another class read in order to make a show of learning.
They read incessantly, and incessantly boast of what they
have read.  They are ostentatious; they are vain of their
knowledge, and pedantic.
The true end of reading, as the means of self-culture, is
evidently, in fih  v6ry Wstatement of the terms of the proposition, self-culture.  Now, self-culture aims at the improvement
of all the hligihbr powers of our nature.  Jusftso far, then, as
reading contributes to self-culture, it contributes to improve,
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236
and elevate, and refine our whole nature. By holding intercourse with the great minds of the world, as they still live in
their.works, we canl  ecoue  like them. Our memories can
be stored with the treasures of knowledge gathered by them.
Our imaginations can rove freely among the forms of thought
among which they expatiated with delight. Our judgment
can decide correctly in view of the facts which they have collected, and the principles which they have evolved, and the
reasons they have elaborated.  Our wills can be confirmed by
the motives they administer. Our hearts can be brought into
harmony with their hearts by contemplating what awakened
their emotional nature.  Our moral feelings can become
assimilated to theirs by inhaling their spirit..
X In books we have the concentrated wisdom of past ages
and of the present, which we can appropriate to ourselves,
for our own improvement and that of others. The true end.of reading is to make this appropriation. Lord Bacon's rule
is the best; " Read, not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but
to weigh and consider."';:The improO'&mehnt'- of your intellectual and your moral
powers Beingtl-e true-end of reading, I shall proceed to the
second question: WHAT TIME SHALL I SPEND IN READING?
The answer to this question must depend upon the circumstances in which you are placed and the duties you have to
perform. You are in the district-school, or the academy, or
the college, or in the preparation for some professional employment, or in the practice of some profession, or.are actively
employed in family duties. Now, whenever reading, by consuming time, interferes with your regular studies, or your
professional employments, or your family duties, it should be
avoided, even though at a sacrifice of inclination.
Moreover, when it creates a distaste for studies or other
duties, by withdrawing the attention from them, by impairing
the intellectual vigor, by weakening the moral power so as to
disqualify you for study or labor, it defeats the main purpose
for which you were placed under instruction, or for which




237
you devoted yourselves to labor. For instance, if a student
has in his room a book that creates a distaste for the study
of arithmetic, a branch which he is pursuing, he had better
spend no time in reading that book, for the plain reason that
arithmetic, in relation to his duties as a student, is of more
importance to him. If a merchant's clerk has a book which
creates a distaste for his ledger, lie had better spend no time
in reading that book, for the plain reason that it disqualifies
him for his paramount duties.
And so too, when reading fatigues and exhausts the mind,
it should be avoided. Some books are so exciting to the
attention, to the imagination, to the passions, that they produce a mental debauch, which, if often repeated, destroys the
firm tone of the mind, and renders it fitful and inefficient in
its exertion.
Moreover, reading should be avoided when it interferes
with necessary repose, as it does when pursued at a late hour
of night. It then has a pernicious influence upon the health
first, then upon the spirits, then upon the mind itself. The
knowledge gained in this way is for the most part of but little
value, for it is gained at the expense of mental vigor, and
sometimes even of life itself. The celebrated William Pinckney, the great Maryland orator, fell a sacrifice to late reading. To read when you ought to be in bed, especially to
read when in bed, is to inflict a great evil on yourself without an equivalent. It is to injure your eyes, your brain,
your nervous system, your intellect.
Again, reading ought not to interfere with the due cultivation of the social affections, whether by personal intercourse
with friends, or a punctual correspondence. Some are such
bookworms that they become insensible to the sweet charities
of domestic life, and all the delightful amenities of general
society.
Finally, only so much time should be spent in reading as
will allow leisure for reflection upon'ivaat has been read, in
order that it may become our own, for the purposes of mental
discipline and strength.  Now, it happens that one may have




238
a great appetite and a poor digestion.  He may read much,and think little.  Hence, what he reads, not going through
the process of assimilation, instead of invigorating, burdens'he mind.  Thus addicted to mental gluttony, thus suffering
>from mental repletion, he is incapacitated for high achievements.  He is'A bookful blockhead ignorantly read,
With loads of learned lumber in his head.'
He is, it may be, a living lexicon, a walking encyclopedia;
but he is motionless and dead, so far as practical usefulness
is concerned.
With these cautions and exceptions, endeavor to find time,
if possible, to read every day of your life?..l if you~~can,
ini tile morning, in the sweet hour of prime, if it be only for
five minutes.  Read, if you can, when resting from your toil
at noon.  Read especially more or less during the ltong wlnter evenings." ~'Read in the season of youth;""w ftlite  impressions made on thei-mind arepermanent.  Read in middle
life when the judgment is strong.  Reacad in the season of
old age, when your minds become contemplative, ahnd~ the
body" unfitted for active life.  Let some book furnish'L aily
food for the'mind, as the table does for the body.
We are now prepared to answer the third question:
WHAT IS THE BEST MODE OF READING?
The bpeatsmode of reading is that which is best adapted to
accomplish the- ends": of readin g   And the highest end of
reading, as in every part of education, iS to Turnih nddiscipline the mind, and thus to prepare it to ac~tin; accordance
witi"s-s high:ca"pacity on earth and in heaven.  In order to
gain these high ends, the mind must be tasked to a high
effort.
But, as a matter of fact, there is often careless reading
when there ought to be the closest application of the mind.
There is often reading, in the common sense of the word,
when there ought to be study, because the former is easier
than the latter. It has been said, with some appearance of




239
truth:'Study is labor, and labor is pain, and no one loves
pain.'  There is, therefore, a temptation to substitute the
pleasure of negligent reading for the pain of study.  Reading is often identical with study, as when one is said to read
law. For success in study, the higher powers of the mind
must bhe6'f"ltfii  requisition.  There must be the -full vigor of
Tihe attention witfut ally of its wanderings, the full retentiveness of the memory, the full activity of the imagination.
In the examination of the subject, the judgment must be
ever vigilant; the will, even in the midst of discouragement,
must never swerve from its high purpose. The affections
must often be summoned from their repose, to give impulse
to the intellect.  And the body, too, in that'much study
iich...is a; weariness to the flesh, must be roused from its
languor only to writhe and quiver under the chafings of the
intellect.  In short, for successful study, there must be the
highest efforts of the best powers of'the mindl.  But iii readningt:le mind is often in nearly a passive state, like that of
dreaming or reverie,iiniwhichl images flit before the mind
without any act of volition to retain them.  In rapid reading,
it is nearly in the same state as yours is when you are whirled
through a country in a post-coach or a railroad-car.  How
much do you know of that country in the one case? How
much do you know of the book in the other?
A person mentally indolent may be fond of reading. He
may love to read in a recumbent posture until he falls asleep,
every day or every night of his life. It might be too much
to say that his room resembles the famous cave of the god of
sleep.  But he furnishes proof in his experience, that the
leaves of a book are as sure an opiate as the leaves of the
poppy, the symbol of that god.  Indeed, we have known
those who regularly take a book to bed with them every night,
as'a shoe-horn to pull on sleep with.' Indeed, we have seen
a whole family, each with a book in hand, to which he seemed
to be bowing in devotion, except one bright young girl, who
archly sung:'We are all noddin', nid, nid, noddin';
We are all noddin' at our house at home.'




240
On the supposition that you propose to yourself the true
end of reading, and are ready to adopt the appropriate means
to arrive at it, youwill take care to u1,md.rstand yourl author
thoroughly. A vague and general impression is not sufficiein7.
You must bestow. the whlole.igor of your attention on the
words, the phrases, the periods, the paragraphs.  If, at the
first perusal', you do not understand a pa"ssa-ge, peruse it a
second or a third time.  If you then fail in discovering its
meaning, mark it for examination after you have read the
book through.  When you can do it, be careful to -furnish
yourself with every necessary help in Gooks of reference,
such  as dictionaries, general, classical, and  biographicali
works.on sacred  and profahe antiquities, gdeograpily, aild
chronology.
If a word occurs whose meaning you do not know, be
careful to refer to your dictionary, even though it may for a
moment interrupt the course of the narrative or the argument.  If you meet with an allusion to a fact with which
you are unacquainted, immediately turn to your book of reference for the necessary information.  For instance, you
meet for the first time with the phrase, ultima thule, in a sentence like this:' In that science, he reached the ultima thule
of discovery.'  Instead of guessing at the import of the
phrase, carefully ascertain the meaning, once for all. Again,
you meet for the first time with an allusion to the bow of
Ulysses, in a sentence like this:' He cannot bend the bow
of Ulysses.'  Instead of being satisfied with a conjecture,
read the story of the suitors of Penelope, who were put to
the test of bending the bow of that hero, her husband, and
you will understand the point of the allusion.
But you say that this is a very slow and tedious way of
reading.  Slow it may be, but not te.dious, because your curiosity is co.nstani-tly awakened and constantly gratified. It is
not tedious, any more than it is, in traveling through a
country, to take time to examine the most grand and beautiful objects in nature and art. Instead of being tedious, it is'
the only way of becoming deeply interested in any highly




241
intellectual and finished work. It is the only way in which
you can transfer the views of your author to your own mind,
and transfuse his spirit to your own soul. And as to slowness, you may, on this subject, adopt the adage:'The more
haste, the worst speed.' You proceed more slowly in thee
first part of your course, in order that you may make the,
greater speed in the end. Interruptions will become fewer(
and fewer as you advance.
But you say that you can understand what you read without all this trouble.  Perhaps you can; and perhaps the
reason is, that you read those ephemeral productions that::require as little labor to read them as it did to write them.
In order thoroughly to understand a work, it is frequently
necessary to read it a second or even a third tim"te.  Oiie of
the first scolars of -the age said that he' read" Demosthenes
three times before the beauties of that divine author began toi
appear.' One part of a work throws light upon another part.:!
After you have read the conclusion of a work, you can better
understand the commencement.
Lest I should myself fail of being understood, I will adduce one or two more instances. Suppose that you should,
in conversation, use the word water in the hearing of two
persons, the one a child of six years, and the other an accomplished chemist.  Ask the child if he understands what is
meant by the word, and he will promptly say:'0! Yes.'
And yet how inadequate is the meaning of the word as it
stands in his mind, compared with that which stands in the
mind of the other, who is acquainted with that substance in
its elements and combinations!
Take another instance. Read the lines of Pope, descriptive of creative power, in the hearing of two persons, one of
whom has and the other has not reflected on the subject to
which it relates:'Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
And bids the eternal wheels to know their rounds.'
To the one, these lines may be little more than mere words.
To the other, they are full of meaning.  Ill them, he sees




242
the earth's face renewed by the breath of the Almighty, and
nature for ever changing, yet the same for ever, like the
phoenix, springing up into the beauty of the present out of
the ashes of the past.
Take another instance:'So Zembla's rocks, the beauteous work of frost,
Rise white in air and glitter o'er the coast:
Pale suns, unfelt at distance, roll away,
And on the impassive ice the lightnings play,
Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
Till the bright mountains prop the incumbent sky:
As Atlas fixed, each hoary pile appears,
The gathered winter of a thousand years.'
The full beauty of this piece you cannot perceive unless
you bring before your mind each brilliant portion of the
whole of this winter landscape. And this you cannot do,
unless you make yourself acquainted with phenomena of a
winter beyond the Arctic circle.  And even then you cannot
do it unless you dwell long enough upon each image, to give
it a distinct local habitation in the range of your conception.
You are to gaze upon each part and on the whole as you
would upon the picture of it on canvas, or as you would upon
the original scene itself, looking, one while, upon the glittering ice-mountain springing from the shore far into the upper
sky, piercing the clouds with its hoary head, and supporting,
like another Atlas, the heavens; and then looking at the sun
fast struggling above the edge of the far-off southern horizon,
sending along the intervening  ocean his level, ineffectual
rays; and then at the lightnings, the'dread arrows of the
clouds,' glancing off from  the unscathed brow of the giant
mountain.
In the dawn of our intellectual existence, before bad mental habits are formed, we adopt the true mode of gaining
knowledge. The child, when a new object is presented, gives
lup the whole of its little mind to its examination. He gazes
at it with intense interest, carefully surveying every part.
He applies all his senses, so far as he can, to its examination,
when it is within his reach.  And so strong is his curiosity,




243
that he will break to pieces what he values, in order to discover its properties.  In this way he transfers to his mind a
distinct and full image of the admired object, which, in the
absence of that object, he can gaze upon in his contemplations, with the same interest that he could upon the object
itself, if it were present to the bodily eye. These images,
thus carefully formed in early life by the faculty of conception, under the guiding influence of nature, continue distinct
and beautiful in the faithful keeping of memory, uninjured
by time.  In this way, it happens that the young ideas,
which, under the teachings of nature, shoot forth from the
soul in the spring-time of life, are perennial plants, continuing beautiful in leaf and in flower under the summer's sun
of manhood and in the winter of old age.
From the teachings of instinct in early life, reason should
learn a lesson to be applied in maturer years. True, the
objects. that we examine through the medium of words and
sentences are often intellectual, not sensible. But in order
to become intimately acquainted with them, there must be
the same eager and thorough observation, the same deep
emotion, the same curiosity, which the child exhibits. Indeed,
the distinct perception and full comprehension of abstract
ideas, seen through the dispersive and refractive'i medium of
language, require superior concentration of attention, full
earnestness of curiosity, and the  quickening influence of
emotion.  If, on the. other hand, there is no curiosity felt,
no6-interhest excited, and no vigor of attention, it is all in vain
that the eye traces the words on the page.
But you say that you get ideas in this superficial way.  So
you may, but they are ideas of words, not of things. You
may get ideas by reading the naked columns of a spelling
book, but not connected thought.  When I speak of underrstanding a work, I do not refer merely to the words themselves in their lexical signification, but to their relations in
sentences, in paragraphs, in chapters, in the whole, in its
\general drift and scope.
And when I speak of understanding a work, I do not refer
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244
merely to pure intellect, but to all' the faculties that are addressed by the work. Sometimes a subject is presented in
the' dry light' of the intellect; and sometimes, to use another expression of Bacon, it is' drenched in the affections.'
In the one case, the intellect of the reader is put in requisition; in the other, his affections likewise.  For instance,
Samuel Clarke, whom Voltaire called a' reasoning machine,'
writes a book which can be understood by that reader only
who, in the perusal, exerts iiis reasoning faculty.'Jonathan
Edwards writes a work under tile guidance of his heart, and
no one can thoroughly understand it whose heart has not
given a lesson to his head.  Milton, on the seraph wings of
ecstacy, passed the flaming bounds of space and time; and
who can follow him, without the aid of imagination, up to
the living throne and the sapphire blaze?
While different writers, in this way, exhibit a predominance of different faculties, it likewise is evident that no
reader can fully enter into the spirit of a work, who does not,
in the perusal of it, exert that faculty which is predominant
in the author.  Indeed: for fully understanding a writer and
thorouglily entering into his spirit, it is necessary for you to
give yourself up wholly into his hands, to put yourself in the
same state of mind, when you read, that he was when he
wrote. You are in this way to go through the letter into the
spirit.  Qui haeret in litera, haeret in cortice.
At the same time, you are to bestow your attention upon
the language which an author employs to embody his
thoughts, as well for the purpose of learning what those
thoughts are, as for being able to embody your own thoughts
when you shall address others. As language is the medium
of thought, it is as necessary to understand the nature of
that medium, as it is to understand the nature of the medium
through which you see objects with the bodily eye. In dioptries, you know that if you view an object through one glass,
it will appear magnified; and through another, it will appear
diminished; and through another, it will appear distorted;
and through a fourth, it will appear colored; and through a




245
fifth, it will appear just as it is, in form and size and color.
The same is true of language in modifying thought. Five.men  will present the same thought in five different ways.
(One will elevate it; another, degrade it; a third, distort it;
fa fourth, color it; and a fifth, employ such appropriate lan-.guage that the reader, at the first view, sees it just as it is.
If you will carefully observe how good authors express themseves'you will from them obtain such command of language,
tihat wlhleeever you have a thoiight to express, words, ifike'nimble servitorswill come to:t.eir places' at your bidding.
iknow thiat some have affected to underrate the knowledge
of language inll comparison with the knowledge of things.
True, there is a difference between an idea and the expression of' it; and in order to express it, you must first have it.'But men who are to have intercourse with their fellow-men,
and who are to influence them by means of knowledge, mustf
-embody their knowledge in language, otherwise they have nd
instruments by which to work. There are thoughts which,
sometimes in happy moments of inspiration, dart through
the mind with the  brightness of electric fires.  In that
brightness we behold, as with a prophet's ken, the secrets of
the world unknown, revealed to us as through the parting
cloud. But as they come, so they go, like lightning. The
clouds come together again, and our pathway becomes dark
as before. Could we but arrest these flashes of thought and
make them permanent in their radiance, they would serve to
guide and cheer, and not merely to dazzle. This it is the
office of language to do. There are   men endowed with
highest gifts, the vision and the faculty divine,' yet wanting
the accomplishment of words, men'who live out their time,
and go to the grave unthought of.''To give solidity and permanence to the inspiration of
genius, two things are especially necessary. First, that the
idea to be communicated should be powerfully apprehended
by the speaker or writer; and next, that he should employ
words and phrases which convey it in all its truth to another.'
A man who entertains such conceptions will fail, unless suit



246
able words wait upon his thoughts.  Langtuage has been fitly
called a vast labyrinth.  Tile malln whlo has iot the clue must
wander iii its mazes.
In your reading, mark the meaning of the words and
phrases employed by your author.  Carefully associate language with your thoughts, so that thought and language shall
~become one in your mind.
Beside understanding the views of an author, and the
language in which his views are conveyed, yo_.must understand the subjects upon which he writes.  It is one thing to
learn what an author thinks of a subject, and another to
learn what is true of that subject.  Hear what Locke, the
great master of reason, says on this subject:'Reading furnishes the mind only with the materials of knowledge; it is thinking makes what we read ours. We are of the
ruminating species,' and it is not enough to cram ourselves with a
great load of collections; unless we chew them  over again, they
will not give us strength and nourishment. All that is found in
books is not built upon true foundations, nor always rightly
deduced from the principles it is pretended to be built on. The
mind of the reader is often backward in itself, to be at the pains
to trace every argument to its original, to see upon what basis it
stands, and how firmly; but yet it is this that gives one man so
much advantage over another in reading. The mind should, by
severe rules, be tied down to this at first uneasy task; use and
exercise will give it facility, so that those who are accustomed to
it readily, as it were with one cast of the eye, take a view of the
argument, and presently, in most cases, see where it bottoms.
Those who have got this faculty, one may say, have got the true
key to books, and the clue to lead them  through the mizmaze of
variety of opinions and authors to truth and certainty. This,
young beginners should be entered in and shown the use of, that
they might profit by their reading. Those who are strangers to
it will be apt to think it too great a clog in the way of men's
studies. But I would add, this way of thinking on and profiting
by what we read will be a clog and rub only in the beginning.
And to those that aim at knowledge I may say, that he who
fair and softly goes steadily forward in a course that points right,
will sooner be atbhis journey's end than he that runs after every
one he meets, though he gallop all day, full speed.'




247
In reading,' truth is the measure of knowledge' and tfherefore is to kbe maiimy sought. While, in t'he words of Burns,
some books are lies fra end to end,' most are composed of a,
mixture of truth and error in different proportions.  Now
whether they are the counterfeit presentment of truth, or
have in them  only so much of thle alloy of error as brings
them  to the common currency, or have in them  only pure
gold, they should be brought to the touchstone.  In some
instances, you may perceive almost intuitively that what you
are reading is false. This happens when you are acquainted
with the subjects upon which they treat.  In other instances,
by comparing what is said in one part of a book with what is
said in another, and thuis discovering the inconsistency, you
can see where the error lies. It not unfrequently happens
that the same author furnishes both the poison and the
antidote.
Besides this, you can sometimes examine what you read in
the light of your own observation. If you are reading some
description of external nature, you can limit, correct, or
extend the views presented by others, from your own observation; and this, too, whether those are scientific or political,
whether they are found in Paley's' Theology,' or Thompson's
Seasons.' When you read. some work on human life and
manners, as Addison's I Spectator,' or Franklin's' Essays,'
you are to cast your eyes around upon the forms of life and
manners with which you are acquainted, to discover whether
these great moral painters are, in the outlines and coloring
of their pictures, true to the original. If you are reading,
some work on the luman mind, you are constantly to watch
the working of your own mind, that you may see whether
the principles which your author advocates are in accordance
with your own consciousness.  If you are perusing some
historical or political work, inquire whether the writer was a
candid man, whether he leaned to a particular theory or
party, and in this way learn to make the necessary allowance
for his prepossessions and prejudices. To arrive at truths on
litigated points, it may be necessary to read both sides.




248
In order to profit from reading, it is advantageous to converse with those w io have read the same booksi, orare interested in the..same topi-s..   Two persons of equal capacity
slshall read the same book, and yet receive from it very differ%ent impressions. By exchanging their views in the commerce of thought, each is a gainer.  The difficulties which
one meets with are solved by the other, and the truths upon
which they agree are more firmly fixed in the millds of each.
By thus bringing their minds ill contact. with each other, ill
conversation upon the work, their feelings are warmed into
more vigorous exercise, and by the collision of their opinions the light of truth is struck out.  Moreover, by conversing concerning the books that you read with those that
are older and have read more than yourselves, and have had
better opportunities for observation, you will be the better
able to form  a correct estimate of what you read.  Their
experience will help to guard you against the errors and evil
tendencies of the work, or enable you to appreciate its excellences.
If you will adopt the practice, so far as the courtesies of
life will allow, of discussing the various subjects which you
meet with in your reading, you will always be furnished with
interesting and useful topics of conversation, which will render you an acceptable visitor with the select sober few or the
gayer circle. In the' feast of reason and the flow of soul,'
you call spend your social interviews, avoiding the error, on
the one hand, of sitting in silence because you have nothing
to say on the topics that are up, and the greater evil, on the
other, of' saying an' infinite deal of nothing.'
Another practice to be attended to, in order to profit by
your reading, is, to use your pen as an instrument of thought.
When you are reading a work, it is profitable to take notes of
what is true and beautiful in thought or expression on the!one hand, and likewise of passages that are erroneous or unigraceful, that you may be able to refer to them at pleasure.
TlThis will help to form the mental habit of distinguishing
i between truth and falsehood, beauty and deformity.




249
In some cases, it may be well to take an abstract or make
an analysis of the work.  In others, it may be better to write
short comments, in the way of refuting what is false, and
clearing up what is obscure, and confirming what is true.
In expressing the tho-ughts of your author in your own langue,. ahud.f66Pnection with  your.:own Views, you will
reteiVe a beiefit like; that which you gain in translating romm
arnothe... lin-g'e,-;....in-:thle distinctness and permanency  of
yoUii'impr4ssions' Yu i' will be filrnishing yourselves, for
the "future, wit"ih e history'o'f " yn v  mettal - progl-ess-or - Coleridge was so miuch in the habit of doing this, that his friends
were anxious to lend him books, that he might write notes in
the margin.  So much was President Edwards in the habit
of using his pen as an instrument of thought, that it might
be said of him,'Nil sine calano.' Of course I shall be understood as referring to those works only that are worth a
careful perusal.
A It is useful sometimes to place before you some admired
passage of some (English) author, and translate, if I may,Use the term, the thoughts contained in it into your own
language.  In this way, by comparing the original and the
translation, you can see accurately your own deficiencies and
excellences, as well as those of your author.
With respect to the practice of making extracts of passages that you admire, either on account of beauty of expression or correctness of thought, I cannot speak with so
much confidence.  I see not why those who labor in the
mines of literature, may not with advantage arrange the
gems of thought, as in a cabinet, as specimens of what is
true and beautiful.
It should constantly be remembered that the end of reading is.to ffurnishllnouris mei. _t.to. the mi.nd, that it may grow
into the full greatness and vigor of which it is susceleble.
But the mingdgows, like the body, by expansion from within;
and not like a crystal, by accretiol from without.  Now in
order to obtain nourishment from what you read, thie mind
itself must decompose what is received into it, in order that




250
assimilation may take place. While what you read remains
ma  ere.m_ unldigested mass in the meImo'ry, i'ts isiof but little
wortlh. Rumination is indiSpensable.
And here I may with advantage quote the example of a
distinguished scholar of our own country.
1. Before I commenced an author, I made myself thoroughly master of the whole scheme of his work, if a table of
contents enabled me to do so.
2. I then studied the author in the following manner:
After reading the first sentence, I meditated on it, developing the author's thoughts as well as I was able, and reducing
the whole, as nearly as possible, to a single distinct concise
expression. I then read the second sentence, and did the
same. I next compared the two sentences together, meditating on them, and gathering out of them  their substance.
Thus I went through the paragraph, and reflected on the
whole until I had reduced it to a single sentence, containing
its essence. I then studied the next paragraph in like manner; and having compared the two, I gathered out of them
their substafnce. The same plan was followed in the comparisonl of sections with sections, and chapters with chapters,
books with books, until the author was finished.
3. A third rule was to pass nothing unexamined, nothing
without reflection, whether in poetry or fiction, history or
travels, politics, philosophy, or religion.  Nor ought I to
omit the three rules of Professor Whittaker, of Cambridge,
given to John Boyse, one of the eminent translators of the
Bible in the time of James the First. 1. To study chiefly
standing or walking. 2. Never to study at a window. 3.
Not to go to bed, on any account, with cold feet.
Thus much for the manner of readilg.
I now proceed to answer the fourth question, namely, WHAT
BOOKS SHOULD BE READ?
The time was when this question, if asked by one who
intended to be a scholar. might be answered, All. Books
were few, and every learned man was expected to read every
book to which he could gain access. Even some time after




251
the art of printing was invented, an industrious scholar
might be expected to read every book that had been put to
press.  But with the improvements in mechanical arts connected with printing, at the present rate of increase, at no
distant period, the world itself, in the language of an authorized hyperbole, cannot contain the books that are printed.
If the youthful student visits some large library in an
athenaeum or a college, or reads over the catalogues of these
libraries, or looks into a fashionable periodical review, he
finds a great many standard works, and a great many new
works, each lauded to the skies, as the offspring of genius.
The press, urged on by the power of steam, is as prolific as
Berecynthia, the fabled mother of the gods, and like hers
too, if he may credit the voice of flattery at every new birth,
all its offspring are immortal.  Beside the attractions of
splendid binding and typography, the power of the pencil
and the graver have been summoned to furnish designs to enliven dulness or grace the creations of genius.  At his first
introduction to these delights of learning in some favored
spot, he may, if his is a poetical temperament, nfancy that he
has found the home of all the muses, and that each of those
bright-eyed daughters of Jove is contending for his favor, as
did the three goddesses on Mount Ida for that of Paris.
In this multitude of books, as no one can read all, evidently every judicious person must go on the principle of selectiOI.'Some books,' says Bacon, I are to be tasted, others
are to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.' It is only the I few' that are to be chewed and digested.
It is only the standard works that should be anxiously sought
alid ca[efully read, though others may be occasionally tasted.
While the rmin  is' siin the forming state, such books should be
read as are adapted to form  it to admire virtue, truth, and
beauty. When formed, it may gather truth fiom every part
-of the fields of literature, as the bee gathers honey even
from poisonous flowers.  The youthful student should fix his
intense regards upon standard works, and bestow only a passing notice on those ephemeral productions which fall from
32




252
the press upon the current of literature,' thick as autumnal
leaves that strow the brooks of Vallambrosa.'
Their name is legion. They meet you in the book-stores,
in steamboats, in railway cars.'The dog-star rages, now'tis past a doubt,
All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out.
Fire in each eye and paper in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
By land, by water, they renew the charge;
They stop the chariot and they board the barge.'
In the fashionable literature, or the' yellow-covered literature,' as it has been called, a bad spirit reigns, or rather all
spirits congregate,' black spirits and gray.'
In one of these works is found the spirit of infidelity,'squat like a toad,' undetected unless touched by the spear of
Ithuriel, yet doing its work surely.  In another, immorality
multiform  lurks.  Every fiend nestles among those books in
disguise.  There, breathing revenge, is Moloch,'the strongest and fiercest spirit that fought in heaven.',  There, in his
beauty, is Belial, whose' tongue drops manna, and can make
the worse appear the better reason; but to noble deeds timorous and  slothful.'  There gloating over his  gold  sits
Mammon.
Exposed to such malign influences, it is not strange that
many a youthful reader should become the victim of infidelity
and vice, as they thus ambush his path.
There is a practice that prevails among youthful readers in
colleges and elsewhere, of reading every thing that comes to
hand.  They make haste to be wise, and think that wisdom
consists in having read every thing that comes in their way.
They are almost as rapid in their course of reading as a certain coxcomb who boasted that he had read Euclid's' Elements of Geometry' in one afternoon, only leaving out the
A's and B's, and the crooked lines, which seemed intended
merely to retard his progress. Book-worms they might be' called, were not book-butterflies the more appropriate term.
TThey skim  over the meadows of learning, alighting for a
imoment on the flowers, but collecting nothing valuable.




253
But you say that the rule which I have given you of reading standard books, is not sufficiently definite, inasmuch as
the number of standard books is so great that one could
hardly expect to read them all in a long life, much less in
the leisure hours from  his studies while in the school, the
academy, the college, the workshop, or the counting-llhouse.
You ask me what particular books you should read. In reply, I would say:  Tell ne what are your mental defects,
and I will tell you wlat books will h ei:lp to remove them.
Are voou  deficient in taste? Read the best Englishi poets,
such as Gray and Goldsmith, Pope and Thomson,  Cowper
and Coleridge, Scott and Wordsworth.
Are you deficient in imagination? Read Milton, and Akenside, and Burke.
Are you deficient in power of reason?  Read Chillingworth, and Bacon, and Locke.
Are you deficient in judgment and good sense in common
affairs of life? Read Franklin.
Are you deficient in sensibility? Read Goethe and Mackenzie.
Are you deficient in vigor of style?  Read Junius and
Fox.
"Are you deficient in political knowledge?  Read Montesquieu, the  FederalisWt':Webster, and Calhoun.
Are you decfient in patriotism?  Read Demosthenes, and
the' Life of' Washin'lton.'
Are you deficient in conscience? Read some of President
Edwards' works.
Are you d:eficient in piety?  Read the Bible.
This I give you as a sort of specimen list. For a number
of these works, others equally good for the purpose can be
substituted.  Without a reference to the principle which lies
at the basis of this rule, reading, besides being a waste of
time, may be positively injurious, increasing rather than remedying the mental defects. For instance, if a person has already
a morbid sensibility, if he is already infirm of purpose, having hardly force of character enough to get his regular les



254
sons if he is a student, or perform  his regular duties on the
farm or in the shop if he is called to labor, it is plain that
the lighter species of literature will be injurious to him.
lWhat he needs is solid thought, to brace his mind up to the
[regular performance of his duty. Again, if a student is' so
unfortunate as to have his mind set on fire by party spirit in
politics or religion, and if the reading of a paragraph in the
newspaper, or a controversial pamphlet, is sufficient to set
his feelings all in a blaze, then it is evident that he had.better abstain from  that kind of reading.  What he needs is,
the tranquilizing effect of a higher and a purer literature.
Books contain for the..fait.ful seeker a treasure,of untold
value.  They ccontain the collected. wisdom....fages...unimpaired.' The Iliad flourishes as green now as on the day
when Pisistratus stamped upon it its present order.' Plato
still speaks in the language of the immortals the lessons of
plhilosophy.  The 2Eneid is just as tender and as touching to
the human heart as when the mother of Marcellus swooned
under the power of its pathos. Milton " still rides sublime
on the seraph wings of ecstacy, passing the flaming bounds
of space and time.' Bacon is still the prophet of the sciences.
Still'Shakespeare, fancy's sweetest child,
Warbles his native wood-notes wild,'
captivating us as he captivated the heart of the Virgin Queen.
And above all, God himself, breaking the silence of nature,
still utters forth. his own truth in the same tones as when he
spake to holy men of old.
In good books, we hold converse with the great minds
which composed them.  We contract an undyinng friendship
for those great minds that have ministered to our happiness
an7d.o-ur, improvement.  As we advance in years, other friends
fall off, or prove treacherous, or die; but those minds contintue the same, and we turn to them, from a frowning or a
smiling world, with increasing confidence and delight, as to
old friends and tried friends that will ever be dear to us.




EDUCATIONAL INFLUENCE OF LIBRARIES.
DURHAM CENTER, CONNECTICUT, April, 1868.
To the Secretary of the Board of Education:
Dear Sir. —In reply to your favor, in which you request
me to furnish some information " concerning the Town and
Village Libraries, which, in various parts of the State, were
the educators of our fathers," I have to say, that the shortness of the time, and my previous engagements, have not
allowed me to bestow that attention on the subject which its
intrinsic interest demands. These libraries are now numbered with the things that were; but for fifty or a hundred
years they were a living power in the Commonwealth, as we
may still learn in the fast fading light of tradition.
Books were for a long time scarce in Connecticut, as elsewhere in New England, except in the libraries of some of the
eminent clergymen; and so much valued were they, that
when a certain distinguished clergyman in Massachusetts
died, who was in possession of a valuable library, a clergyman in Stratford, Connecticut, offered to bring up and educate his orphan son, then only five years of age, on condition
that he might have the use of that library until that son
should want it. And so good a use did he make of that
library, that he was offered the Presidency of Yale College,
which he declined.
BooKs were the foundation of Yale College. The foundation was laid-on this wise: Ten of the principal clergymen of
the Colony, having formed themselves into a society, met at
Branford. "' Each member brought a number of books, and




256
presenting them to the body, said these words;  I Igive these
books, for the founding of a college in this colony.g' Then the
trustees took possession of them and confided them to the
care of the Reverend Mr. Russell, the Librarian. The number of the books was forty folio volumes.
The opinion of these founders was, that a college is a
mental and spiritual structure, built on the foundation of the
prophets and apostles of learning, Jesus Christ being the
chief corner stone. These books were, at once, the symbols
and the sources of learning, the exponents of those donors
who founded Yale College, and the fountains from which the
students could thereafter slake their thirst for knowledge.
As showing the high appreciation of books, in 1717, when
the college library was removed from Saybrook to New Haven,
a large number of men resisted the removal, and' in the
struggle that ensued, about two thundred and fifty volumes of
valuable books were conveyed away by unknown persons, and
were never recovered." Whether any of those books formed
the basis of the valuable library not long after established by
individuals in the three towns of Saybrook, Lyme, and Guilford, I am not able positively to say. Some circumstances
point that way.
The year 1738 was signalized by the noble donation of one
thousand volumes to Yale College, by a distinguished divine
of the church of England, Dean BERKLEY, afterwards Bishop
of Cloyne. This caused great rejoicing among the friends of
the college in the Colony, and inspired high hopes of its
success.
It is remarkable that in a few months after this event, ill
the same year, namely, October 30th, the first'  BooK ColmPANY" in Connecticut, or what is supposed to be the first,
was formed. From that time to about 1800, and perhaps
later, libraries were established in the different towns. The
ministers and intelligent men reasoned in this way:  If large
libraries are useful in large cities in Europe and elsewhere,
small libraries may be useful in the small towns in Connecticut, where all enjoy the advantages of common school educa



257
tion, which prepares them to derive pleasure and profit from
books. And many of the people reasoned in this way:  I
have learned to read, why shall I not make a profitable use
of what I have learned, and extend my knowledge by reading books? They thought much like STONE, the celebrated
self-made mathematician, who, when asked how he had been
able to acquire such a great amount of knowledge, replied,
1" Why, I first learned the twenty-four letters of the alphabet,
and then I found that, by means of these, I could learn any
thing else that I wished to learn."
Moreover, members of the Colonial Legislature, which met
twice in the year, often had conversations with each other
about the establishment of libraries as the means of elevating the tastes and intelligence of the people in the several
towns.  And after they had been established in some towns,
the members from those towns were consulted by those from
other towns, as to the results, and as to the mode of proceeding in forming and conducting them, and as to the choice and
character of the books to be purchased.  And afterwards,
when 6' book companies" had become common in the colony,
the members frequently, in their social intercourse, conversed
with one another about the books which belonged to the
libraries in their respective towns. This statement I had
from those who received it from one who was as influential
as any other in thle establishment of such libraries, and who
was a member of the legislature, at least seventy-four sessions.
These book companies were voluntary associations of persons in the several towns who were desirous of establishing a
library. A number of the intelligent men of the town would
meet together, appoint a committee of four or five persons,
and a clerk, who was often the library-keeper. These officers
were afterwards appointed annually. Each member contributed a certain sum, say twenty shillings, as an entrance fee,
and an annual tax, say one shilling. The books were drawn
out by the members, or by some of their families, to be returned in a fortnight, or at some longer time, perhaps, in




258
some places. A record of the books drawn was kept by the
clerk, a fine being charged for want of punctuality in returning them. Sometimes, through neglect, the taxes and fines
would amouint to so much that the committee would declare
the rights forfeited. The moneys collected were applied by
the committee to the purchase of books from time to time.
The question what books should be purchased was considered
to be a very important one, and was often discussed by the
committee. In one case the clerk and library-keeper held
his place forty-nine years.
It was, I believe, not uncommon that the clergyman was
the clerk. At least I was acquainted with one who acted as
such something like thirty years, meeting the members of the
book company statedly for drawing the books; when he
would describe to them their character, with remarks adapted
to lead them  to their perusal, he himself having carefully
read them. He wished to imbue the minds of the readers in
his parish with scholarly tastes, to make them understand
that though the bodies of the great ones in mind's empire lie
in the " caves of death," their minds still live and breathe in
their works as if immortal; lifting, as with an angel's wing,
the souls of their readers above earth's vanities. He wished
to take off their attention from the petty questions and the
party disputes of the day, which divide or weaken congregations, and to fix it upon the great truths and great duties in
which all could agree to unite. And he was successful. He
left what continues to be, at the distance of forty-four years,
one of the largest and best congregations in the country
towns in the state. We know men from the friends whom
they chlloose; he knew nmanly of hlis people: from the books
whfich! they read, those;.silent friends who teach without
offendinlg, and admonish without wounding, and who form
the character.               -
The annual meetings for the choice of officers, and for
hearing the report on the condition of the library, was a sort
of literary festival, when there was "6 the feast of reason and
the flow of soul," when the members eulogized their favorite




259
authors, quoting them as if they were old friends, and ready
to say with Bacon,' libraries are the shrines where all the
relics of saints, full of true virtue, and without imposture,4
-are preservedv areiosed."
The following preamble to the by-laws adopted in one town,
is given as a specimen, which may help one to form a correct
idea of a " Book Company" in those times.
" Forasmuch as the subscribers hereof, being desirous to
improve our leisure hours in enriching our minds in useful
and profitable knowledge by reading, do find ourselves unable to do so, for the want of suitable and proper bookss:
Therefore, that we may be the better able to furnish ourselves with a suitable and proper collection of books, for the
above said end, we do, each of us, unite together, and agree to
be copartners in company together by the name of the BOOK
COMPANY of Durham, united to buy books; and we do agree
and covenant with each other, and it is hereby covenanted
and agreed upon, by each of us, the subscribers hereof, that
we ourselves and successors will be in future a society or
company of' copartners united for that end, viz: to buy books;
and we will each of us, so often as we shall agree by our
major vote, bear our equal part in advancing any sum  or
sums of money at any time as a common stock to be laid out
for such books as shall be'agreed upon by the major vote of
the company, to enlarge our library; and in pursuance of
said design., we have each of us put into one stock the sum
of twenty shillings, which is already laid out according to our
direction, in purchasing books, which books shall be kept as
a common stock library for the use of said company, by some
honest person, whom we will choose, each member having an
equal right iA said library, and the use of the same, under
such regulations as we shall agree upon."
In addition to this, there were sixty by-laws carefully and
judiciously drawn up.
In my early years I was conversant with several of those
libraries, frequented as they were by the members of the
company, who drew books and read them  and talked about
33




260
them. The binding was generally in strong sheep or calf,
sometimes in double bindings after the first was injured by
use. That they were used, the volumes themselves bore witness, as well as the records.
It should be remembered, that during the era which we are
considering, the people of the commonwealth were agricultural, living on farms cultivated by themselves as owners, and
in homes often separated by broad acres; that in those homes
the several families spent the long winters mostly together,
and the rainy days and their evenings, and thus had leisure
for reading. It should also be rememberedl, that with them
often dwelt the four cardinal virtues, prudence, temrperance,
justice, and fortitude, and also the sweet household charities;
and what is more, daily prayers were offered in those homes
even by many who had never taken the sacramental oath in
the sanctuary, and thus they were in a mood of mind to enjoy solid reading. Their public amusements were few; there
were training days with the wrestling matches; there were
election days with their raised cake; there were thanksgiving
days with their table luxuries and family loves; there were
occasional balls conducted with all the formality and decorum  of the olden time.  Still, as a whole, there was very
little outside to draw them from their homes.
In such homes and from such hearts books met a ready
welcome as supplying a felt want, whether adapted to the
memory, the imagination, or the reason. " The Universal
History," Josephus' " HEistory of the Jews," Watts' works,
some of the poetical works of Milton, Pope, Thomson, Goldsmith, the sermons of some of the ablest English Divines,
some of the works of President Edwards, "The Spectator,"
some of Locke's works, Montesquieu's " Spirit of Laws,"
"The Vicar of Walcceield," and many others, became familiarly known to more or less readers in many towns. And
when thus read and appreciated, they of course produced a
beneficial effect. This was especially true of the "Spectator,"
composed by Addison and the wits of Queen Anne's time.
If it be true that it contributed to elevate and refine the con



261
versation and conduct of the people of England in their
social intercourse, it did the same for the people of Connecticut, inasmuch as, in proportion to the population, it was more
read.
In the excellent Constitution of Massachusetts, under the
head of encouraging literature, it is made the duty of Legislators and Magistrates to countenance ";sincerity, good humor,
and all social affections, and generous sentiments among the
people."   What was aimed at by this provision, was, to a
large extent, accomplished by the extensive perusal of books
like these; while they planted a root of bitterness nowhere,
whether in churches or towns. It is true there were many
books in these libraries of not so high a character. I have
seen "Arabian Nights -Entertainment," and the "Fool qf Quality," and the "'Pilgrim's Progress," and the ";Holy War," in
one library, and it is very likely that "Sir Charles Grandison," and "Pamela," and "Robinson Crusoe,"' were found in
others. At any rate, there was enough in them to extend
the opening mind of the young boy beyond the horizon of
his native town to other forms of social life, thus nourishing
manly thought; and to expand the budding affections of the
young girl into the consummate blossom of maiden loveliiiess.
A studious youth in a secluded house, would, on some winter's evening, sit down, with his tallow candle, to peruse a
book of travels from one of these libraries, perhaps reading
portions of it to the listening family. In imagination he'
would  range through various climes, and among various
nations, until, in his delight, he could enjoy them as if his
own. In the language of Goldsmith he could say,
"Ye glitt'ring towns with wealth and splendor crowned,
Ye fields, whose summer spreads profusion round,
Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale,
Ye bending swains that dress the flow'ry vale,
For me your tributary stores combine;
Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine."
He could enjoy all the delights of the traveler without his
fatigues, exposures, and temptations.




262
History was favorite reading with those who were older,
especially English history. The people were but a few generations removed from their English ancestors, in whom tradition, government and trade kept them interested.  They
themselves were British subjects until 1776. To understand? their rights as such, they must read English history which
V informed them how these rights were obtained. The rulers
of the people, and those who expected to be rulers, were
readers of history.  Some of the published debates in the
Connecticut Legislature show a familiarity with historical
facts. It is remarkable that in the Connecticut Convention
which adopted the present Federal Constitution, the great
argument of Oliver Ellsworth in its favor was largely historical, implying that the members were so much acquainted
with history, that they could appreciate its force. Ministers
of the Gospel in those days not unfrequently, in their sermons, stated facts of history, as the teaching of Divine Providence. The famous sermon of President Stiles before the
Connecticut Legislature in 1783 is largely historical.  Many
other facts might be adduced to show what were the prevailing tastes and sentiments in the Commonwealth, growing out
more or less from the perusal of books furnished by these
book companies.
The good influence of these libraries upon every class of
the population, from the highest to the lowest, cannot be
measured, any more than can the influence of'" the all-pervading spirit of literature" generally, any more than can the
influence of the light in the firmament, glancing as it does
from the highest hill-top down into the lowest vale.
These "' book companies " lived, some of them more than a
hundred years, accomplishing great good to the several communities; others had a shorter term of life. They all, from
various general causes in operation, lost their hold on the
hearts of the people, and were neglected.  Some of the
libraries were sold at auction, and the proceeds distributed
among the members. Some were distributed to them, each
member receiving his share of books. Some were scattered




263
and lost.  And the remains of one, at least, are boxed up in
a large chest.
The causes that produced this change began to operate
about the commencement of the present century, though they
did not produce their full effect until something like thirty
years afterwards. To state what these causes were, would
exceed my limits.
If this letter, my dear Sir, shall furnish you with any aid
in your laudable attempt to obtain materials for an Educational History of the State, I shall have accomplished my
purpose in complying with your request.
Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
WILLIAM  C. FOWLER.
To MR. NORTHROP,
Secretary of the Board of Education of Connecticut.




ELOQUENCE.
Every one understands the difference between theory and
practice, when these terms are used in the popular sense.
Thus, when you hear the words used in reference to government, or religion, or education, you regard the one, namely,
theory, as embracing the general principles of that subject, and
the other, that is, practice, as embracing the application of
those principles to particular cases.
In the history of human knowledge, it appears that practice comes first, and theory afterwards.  Thus, men baked
bread, hollowed out canoes, and erected cabins, before they
formed theories in chemistry, ship-building and architecture.
Art collected the facts; science developed them into a system.
But in the process of time the tables are turned; the order is
inverted. Theory or science moves first ina the exhibition of
grand principles; practice follows, in the application of those
principles to particular cases.  Science becomes the herald of
/art, as art was primarily the forerunner of science.
It has often happened that those who have been profoundly
acquainted with general principles, as they are comprehended
in theoretical science, have failed utterly in their attempts
to apply those principles in the arts to particular cases. Thus
the famous Mr. Locke was profoundly acquainted with the
science of government, but was entirely unsuccessful in the
application of his doctrines in the constitution which he framed
for South Carolina. Like many other ingenious schemes, this
did not work well, for it was not the result of practice as well
as theory. Sir Isaac Newton was thoroughly versed in those
astronomical and mathematical doctrines which are appliedto




265
navigation, yet, from want of practice in their application, he
would probably have been but a poor navigator in his first voyage, if he had chosen to make one. On the other hand, Captain Hull, of the American navy, possessed great practical
skill ill navigation, though but little versed in science. And
Dr. Franklin, though an able practical statesman, could not
be compared with Locke in his knowledge of the doctrinal
principles of political philosophy. Both the gallant commodore and the sagacious statesman owed their success to their
practical skill.
Having spoken of the general relation of practice and theory,
I now propose to present for consideration some thoughts on
the particular relation between the practice of' eloquence and
its theoretical principles.
One advantage, let me premise, which is to be derived from
the practice of eloquence, is that it will enable one better to
uid-istaid the theoretical principles:of eloquence. These
principes are presented in form in our text-books, and though
often studied thoroughly and recited with discriminating ex-I
actness, are, after all, not very adequately understood com-t
pared with their importance.  And when their importance is
insisted on either by the author or the teacher, there is often
some incredulity in the mind of the pupil, which shows itself
in something like good-natured derision. Or, if they be received as true, they still have not much depth or strength of
meaning in his mind. For instance, when lie reads the famous saying of Demosthenes-who, when asked what was
the first, second and third excellence in eloquence, answered
to each, " action,"-he attaches but little meaning to this repeated answer in comparison with that in the mind of him
who uttered it. Indeed, the great orator himself learned the
full meaning of the term, and the value of the thing, from repeated failures and final success in practice.
The same is the fact in a thousand cases. Take that of articulation: you might tell one who had never pronounced the
letters L and R, that in the first he must interrupt the voice
by placing the tip of the tongue against the upper gums, and




266
in the latter, by placing the middle of the tongue against the
roof of the mouth. Now, this is a true rule, and an indispensable rule, and one easilv understood; still it could not be adequately understood without practice.
I know it was said, in classic times, that a philosopher is a
shoemaker, even though he has never made shoes, since he is
theoretically acquainted with the mode in which they are
made. But put him to the proof, in the actual manufacture
of a pair of shoes, and he would hardly satisfy one of those
well-dressed-men who promenade Broadway  and Chestnut
street.
Even in religion the importance of practice, in order to the
full understanding of principles, is distinctly set forth. " He
that doeth His will shall know of the doctrines whether they
are of God."
It need not seem strange, thenll, or peculiar, that the practice
X of eloquence is necessary in order to the full understanding of
its tleoretcal princp les.
Ainother advantage which one will derive from the practice
of eloquence is the correction of any false principles which one
may have adopted on the subject. Along with what is true,
your accidental reading or observation, or deductions, may
have led you to adopt much that is false, either in regard to
the true end of eloquence, or the means by which that end is
accomplished. The finest orators that the world has seen,
have been able, by practice, to correct certain false notions
- which they once entertained as to what eloquence is.  Cicero,
in the first public cause which he pleaded, in defence of Roscius of Armeria, uses the following language, which he afterwards condemned, when practice had corrected his theoretical
views. Having occasion, in the course of his plea, to mention
that remarkable punishment which Latin legislators had contrived for the murder of a parent, of sewing the criminal in a
sack, and throwing him into a river, he says: " The meaning
of it was, to strike him at once out of the system of nature, by
taking him from the air, the sun, the water, and the earth;
that he who had destroyed the author of his being should lose




267i
the benefit of those elements whence all things derive their
being. They would not throw him to the beasts, lest the contagion of such wickedness should make the beasts themselves
more ferocious; they would not commit him naked to the
stream, lest he should pollute the very sea, which is the purifier of all other pollutions. They left him no share of anything
natural, howsoever vile or common; for what is so common
as breath to the living, earth to the dead, the sea to those who
float, the shore to those who are cast up? Yet these wretches
live, (as long as they can,) so as not to draw breath from the
air; die, so as not to touch the ground; are so tossed by the
waves as not to be washed by them; so cast out upon the
shore as to find no rest even on the rocks."  This piece of extravagance, Cicero's better taste, taught by practice, condemned. Many a young orator has found by experience that,
those decorations which he once admired as true eloquence,!
are of no more use in the strife of debate, than are the nodding plumes on a warrior's crest amid the fury of the onset.t
Our great western orator, Henry Clay, by a course of experience, corrected his early errors of style, so that, instead of
rant, in which he formerly indulged, he presented subsequently and uniformly what was effective, judicious, and tasteful.
Another advantage which you may derive from the practice
of eloquence is, that it will malke you familiar with the application of the true principles of eloquence. Two men shall understand the principles of eloquence equally well, and one of'
them will be an eloquent man because he is familiar with thee
application of those principles, while the other is utterly des-i
titute of eloquence. The latter may be very fully acquainted,with the subject at issue in debate, and likewise with the true
principles of logic and rhetoric, and yet fail in his contest with
lone inferior to him in everything but a practical familiarity:with the principles of eloquence. This has been finely hit off
by Scott, in the interview between Advocate Pleydel and
Domine Sampson.'" When the man of law began to get into
his attitudes, and his wit, naturally shrewd and dry, became
more lively and poignant, the Domine looked upon him with
34




268
that sort of surprise with which we can conceive a tame bear
might regard the monkey upon their being just introduced to
each other. It was Mr. Pleydel's delight to state, ill grave
and serious argument, some position which he knew the Domine would be inclined to dispute. He then beheld with exquisite pleasure the internal labor with which the honest man
arranged his ideas in reply, and tasked his inert and sluggish:powers to bring up all the heavy artillery of his learning for
demolishing the schismatic or heretical opinions which had
been stated; when, behold, before the ordnance could be discharged, the foe had quitted the post, and appeared in a new
position of annoyance on the Domine's flank and rear. Often
did he exclaim' prodigious!' when marcliing up to the enemy
in full confidence of victory, he found the field evacuated, and
it may be supposed that it cost him no little labor to attempt
a new formation." In allusion to this contest Colonel Mannering remarks: "Even our friend, the Dominie, is returned
thrice the man he was, having sharpened his wits in controversy with the geniuses of the Northern Metropolis."
"'Of a surety,' said the Dominie, with great complacency,' I did wrestle and was not overcome, though my adversary
was cunning in his art.' "
"' I Ican bear witness,' said the Colonel,' that I never saw
an affair better contested. The enemy was like the Mahratta
cavalry; he assailed on all sides and presented no fair mark
for artillery; but Mr. Sampson stood to his guns, notwithstanding, and fired away now upon the enemy and now upon the
dust he had raised.' "
This describes, it may be somewhat in caricature, the condition of many a man who has not learned by practice to apply the principles of eloquence; who has gathered stores of
knowledge which, as an orator, he cannot readily use; who
has not a shilling at command, though he could draw for thousands.
Another advantage which you may derive from the practice
of eloque!nce, is found in the readiness of mind that it produces. The study of theoretical principles, while it disposes




269
to largeness of views and logical accuracy of statement, is not
very favorable to promptitude either of thought or expression.
In order to success, the mind must arrest each idea in successi6ii,1tuntil it is viewed in its various associations, and the
whiole arranged in'the order of premise and..conclusioll, with
phi6sopical exatEiiess. -In dwelling on  hie atstractions0 of
phl osophy habitually, the mind becomes cool, comprehensive,
far-reaching, discriminating, but slow, considerate, hesitating.
Whllen this gets to be a. fixed habit of the mind, the man cannot in the highest sense be eloquent. Now the practice of eloquence tends to prevent the formation of this mental habit, by
establishing habits of an opposite character; by making t~lle
mind prompt in its.-de-cisions,, discussions, inventions; thus
forminiig the advi6cate instead of tie judge; the actor instead
of the philosopher. One thus trained is inspired by the occa-'
sion, so that he has his resources at command, and can say
more things to the purpose a.nd better things than he expected
to say on the particular point at issue; while one who is acquainted with general principles, but has had no practice, will'
lose himself and his hearers in naked generalities, will omit
what ought to be said, and will say what ought to be omitted,
and on the review of the effort which he has made, will discover that his, like an Englisliman's wit, according to the
proverb, always comes afterward.
Another advantage which you will derive from the practice
of eloquence, is that it will give you self-possession.'  For want
of tiiis,iien of the finest talents and the largest attainments,
and the most fluent in common conversations, have utterly
failed in public speaking. This, I presume, was the reason
that Byron failed so signally in the House of Lords; not being
accustomed to speak in public, he lost all command of his faculties. This, too, was the reason why Bulwer failed in the
House of Commons. Their minds were full of thoughts, fertile in combination, and deeply interested in the subject, but
from want of practice they were not at home in the halls of
debate.
In contrast to this, take Mirabeau's first triumph at the as




270
sembly of the tires-etat.  Duroverai, a distinguished foreigner,
was invited in the assembly with some deputies of his acquaintance. He had occasion to pass to Mirabeau a note written
with a pencil. One of the most formidable declaimers in the
assembly saw this, and asked the member next him, who that
stranger was, who was passing notes and interfering with the
proceedings. On being informed who he was, he rose and in
a voice of thunder, stated that a'" foreigner banished from his
native country, and residing in England, from whose government he received a pension, was seated among them assisting
at their debates and transmitting notes and observations to
the deputies of their assembly." The agitation on every side
of the hall, which succeeded this denunciation, would not have
appeared less terrible had it been the forerunner of an earthquake. Confused cries were heard, " Who is he? where is he?
Let him be pointed out." Fifty members spoke at once; but
Mirabeau's powerful voice soon obtained silence. He declared
he would point out the foreigner to the assembly.'4 This exile," said he, " in the pay of England, is M. Duroverai, of Geneva, and know that this respectable man, whom you have so
wantonly insulted, is a martyr to liberty; that, as attorneygeneral of the Republic of Geneva, he offended our visirs, by
his zealous defence of his fellow-citizens; that a lettre de cachet, issued by M. de Vergenne, deprived him of the office he
had but too honorably filled; and when his native city was
brought under the yoke of the aristocracy, he obtained the
honors of exile. Behold, then, the stranger, the exile, the
refugee, who has been denounced to you. Formerly the persecuted manl sought refuge at the altar, where he found an inviolable asylum and escaped from the rage of the wicked.
The hall in which we are now assembled is the temple which,
in the name of Frenchmen, you are raising to liberty; and will
you suffer it to be polluted by an outrage committed upon a
martyr to liberty?" The effect produced by this speech was
electrical. It was succeeded by a universal burst of applause.
Duroverai was immediately surrounded by deputies, who by
their kind attentions endeavored to atone for the insult they
had offered him.




271
Mirabeau was a practised debater, and being, therefore, able
to retain his self-possession on this very trying occasion, won
the assembly over to his views by this sudden burst of eloquence.
Another advantage which you may gain by the practice of
eloquence, is that it will bring your feelings, your thouts,
your words, your gestures, your countenance into harmony. I
shall spend no time in showing the importance of this harmony, since without it there call be nothing that deserves the(
name of eloquence. Now practice, by the law of association,
has a tendency to bring the feelings into harmony with the
thoughts; the words into harmony with the feelings; the
countenance and the whole person into harmony with the
words, so that all the powers of the man are concentrated on
the single act of persuading the hearers to come into the views
and feelings of the speaker.
Besides this analytical view of the subject, the position I
have taken is sustained by a multitude of general facts.
And first, men who have been the most distinguished for
their knowledge of the true principles of the theory of eloquence, have, from the want of practice, been unable to produce much impression as public speakers. Isocrates, the
father of Grecian eloquence, as his school was its cradle, never
made but one attempt at public speaking, when he gave up in
despair. Aristotle, the ablest critic of antiquity, was far from.being an eloquent man. Neither Campbell nor Whately have
been considered as remarkable for eloquence in their public
speaking, though distinguished for their acquaintance with the
true principles of eloquence. And generally teachers of elo\quence have not been distinguished among great orators; just
Ias the best teachers of the principles of the military art have not
been the greatest warriors. Their devotedness to the study of'those principles, without the benefit of practice, tends to produce habits of mind that are unfavorable to public speaking,
while their standard of excellence is so high that they despair
of reaching it.
Another grand fact, which I would mention, is that many




272
distinguished orators have found, that they have made ilmprovement in oratory just in proportion to their amount of
practice.  It was said of Robespierre, by Reybas, on hearing
oniehf hlis first speeches in the Chamber of Deputies: " This
young man has not yet practised; he is too wordy and does
not know when to stop, but he has a store of eloquence which
will not leave him in the crowd." He afterwards practised
with so much success, that he was able by his voice to govern
the chaniber, then Paris, then revolutionary France. Many a
distinguished orator might be named whose maiden speech
-was a failure.  But instead of yielding to discouragement, they
went steadily in the way of practice until success crowned
their efforts.
Men have attended to pursuits which have led them away!from the practice of eloquence, until they seem to be destitute
\of the power of speaking well, but on resuming the practice!ave gained the power.  When John Quincy Adams was
candidate for the presidency a second time a comparison was
drawn between him and Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay, in
the way of showing that General Jackson was great in action;
Mr. Clay great in eloquence.; Mr. Adams great only in writing. Now, if greatness either in action or in eloquence is superior.to greatness in writing, it was inferred that, on the
ground of merit, either General Jackson or Mr. Clay was to
be preferred to Mr. Adams. No one at that time pretended
that this statement, made by Mr. MeDuffie, did any injustice
to Mr. Adams, for no one regarded him as an eloquent man.
For years, when abroad as minister, and then during twelve
years that he was Secretary of State or President, he had been
out of the practice of eloquence.  He did, indeed, once, on the
invitation of the city authorities of Washington, deliver an oration on the Fourth of July, which was regarded by some of his
friends, taking the delivery and all into view, as an inferior
performance. Indeed, when he was appointed to a seat in
Congress, very little was expected of him as a speaker.  But
he then went into the practice of eloquence, as he was before
well acquainted with its theoretical principles, every session




273
improving, until he speedily came to be regarded as another
Webster-as the " old man eloquent."  Such was the influence of practice that it transformed the retired scholastic
statesman, who might be said to live with a pen in his hand,
into a ready and terrible antagonist in debate. This it did
for him, after he was sixty years of age, when the habits of
mind are supposed to be rigid, and new associations are not
easily formed.
There is another general fact, which in this connection deserves notice.  Men who were distinguished  for their eloquence while in the practice of eloquence, lose their power as
public speakers, in consequence of laying aside the practice of
speaking.  Thus men who were eloquent advocates while they
were at the bar, when they have been raised to the benclh, in
a few years lose to some degree the power which they once
ilad.  Eloquent preachers, after being, as teachers, for a few
years withdrawn from the practice of preaching, cease to be
eloquent.  Their minds are occupied and their feelings absorbed in other pursuits, until their mental habits are changed.
Mr. Webster was an eloquent man in Congress in 1814, and
when in 1824 he was sent from  BostonI great expectations
were entertained that he would exert there a commanding influenlce on the councils of the nation.  But not having recently bleen in the practice of congressional eloquence, he somewhat disappointed the expectations of his friends.  His effort
for the Greeks, in the words of an elaborate and practised debater, " was awkwardly made."  Hie failed in carrying the
two leading measures which he endeavored to sustain that
session. He was evidently inferior in debate to John Randolph, who opposed him on one of those measures, as he was
to Henry Clay, who opposed him on the other.  But after a
few years of practice, he became, if not decidedly superior to
all, ]primus inter pares.
After lie had been acquiring skill and power by practice
some years, Mr. Calhoun, who as Secretary of War and Vice
President of the United States, had for twelve years not been
accustomed to take part in public debates, came intd the Sen



274
ate with the virtues and talents of an accomplished statesman.
The subject of nullification came before the Senate. This
brought out these two distinguished men in opposition to each
other.  Though well matched in other respects, Mr. Calhoun
was deficient, from the want of recent practice, in that perfect
self-possession which the other had gained by practice; and
hence, as was generally supposed, by Whigs, his inferiority on
that occasion, in comparison with the orator from New Elgland; an inferiority which he did not manifest in debates after
he had been a longer term in the Senate.
Ttreasonings and..fa.ts, then, which I have adduced,
abundantly show the importance of practice to the attainment
of eloquence.
There are, indeed, exceptions to every general rule. Hamilton, in the British Parliament, without any previous practice
there, delivered a single able speech, and ever after kept silence there. This was deemed so remarkable that he has to
this day gone by the name " Single Speech Hamilton."
While I would thus urge upon you the importance of practice,
I would not have you suppose that I intend to underrate other
means, or those qualities of the soul which show themselves in
the great orator. I speak not to undervalue solitary study,
or theoretical principles, or the treasured stores of learning,
as means of improving in eloquence. I would not undervalue
the burning passions and the unconquerable will of Chatham,
revealed in words of fire, as from a seraph's lips; or the
winged imaginations of Burke, which circled over all the creations of nature and art to gather contributions to aid the intellect; or the strong good sense, and the ready memory of
Fox, speaking to the common heart of man; or the brilliant
wit of Sheridan; or the logical accuracy and sound judgment
of Pitt, or the playful fancy of Canning.  Nature in her
bounty imparted some of these rare gifts, and study furnisheq
them with others; but this would all have been comparative
y vallelesss without practice. Any man of them would have
told you so.
"To be  gat orator does not require,"  it has been justly




275
said,'the highest faculties of the human mind, but it requires
the highest exertion of the common faculties of our nature.
He has n0o occasion to dive into the depths of science, or to soar
aloft on angel's wings. He keeps upon the surface, he stands1
firm upon the ground; but his form is majestic, and his eyei
sees far and near; he moves among his fellows, but he moveso
among them as a giant a.mong common men. He has no need
to reach the heavens, to unfold the system of the universe, or
to create nlew worlds, for the delighted fancy to roam in; it is
enough if he sees things as they are; that he knows, and feels,
and remembers the common circumstances and daily transactions that are passing in the world around him.."
There is nothing, perhaps, in the range of human acquisition that is so earnestly coveted by the student in some part
of his collegiate course, as to be an orator. To rise in an assembly with ease and self-possession, to state his opinions with
gracefulne's a;''ilanergy of -a-guagge and manner, to control
the will of others, to act with irresistible effect on the passions,
to awaken the minds of offthers to their real interests, to hold
a multitude hanging upon his lips, as if they were spell-bound,
wlii imhe transfuses his mind into theirmiind", until there is
but one beating heart as but-one voice, one soul, one resolving
will-what student has not aspired to do this?  And what
student has not at times been inclined to sit down in despair
of being able to do this?
In the way of encouragement, then, I would say that, until
you have been through a course of practice in eloquence, you
cannot tell how much it will do for you. I would say this
before you sit down in despair.
In college both teachers and pupils are necessarily employed
for the most part in the inculcation and reception of theoretical principles, while the practical application of those principles comes afterwards, if at all. What if any one should say
in despair, I never can become a chemist, for though I have
studied chemistry, I am not able to analyze a piece of iron ore,
or even the common soil beneath my feet?  What if one
should say, I never can become a navigator, for though I have
35




276
studied navigation, I could not now even conduct a ship to
England? What if one should say, I never can become an
orator, for though I have studied rhetoric, I could not speak
five consecutive sentences before an audience without embarrassment?
If any one should talk in this way, should we not say that
his conclusion was broader than his premises? Should we
not say that he was entirely ignorant of the nature and end
of a liberal education? Here you are to learn the great principles of the sciences. In professional life you are to learn, if
you choose, their practical applications. Having learned the
theoretical principles of chemistry, and of astronomy, and of
eloquence here; then if you wish to become an analytical
chemist, or a practical navigator, or an eloquent man, enter
into the school of practice, not fearing but that you will be
successful.
I am aware that in college societies, and to a small extent
in the regular course, there are some opportunities for practice
in eloquence. All the remarks which I have made are intended to apply in their full force to these exercises, as important means of improvement. I know that they are sometimes undervalued in comparison with corresponding exercises in real life. But consider that they will be of use in
helping to prepare for those exercises. It was at the Games
that the Grecian youths prepared themselves for the strife of
war. It was in the Palestra that the young Romans prepared
themselves to be the conquerors of the world. The adventurous boy launching his skiff upon the bosom of the peaceful
harbor, acquires by practice a quick eye, a ready hand, a collected mind, and a strong heart, to encounter, on the high seas,
the storm when it is up in its frenzy. Use all the opportunities which you enjoy for the practice of eloquence. Reasoning from general principles or from facts, you have enough to
encourage you. In a college debating society, Canning prepared himself for parliamentary practice. In a debating club,
Brougham laid the foundation of his eloquence. And if need
be, we could summon multitudes from the pulpit, the bar, and




277
the Senate chamber, who would bear testimony, from their
own experience, in favor of' the practice of eloquence in college, in addition to the study of its theoretical principles.
The union of theory and practice is necessary for the highest'results.  "Orator fit" is the maxim  upon which every
great orator has acted.  The poet is born a poet.  By inspiration he has the ken of genius, 1" the vision and the faculty divine."  But the orator, on the other hand, is Ithe architect of
himself.
"'trnay b'e profitable, here, to illustrate this statement, by
referring to the practice of one who exhibited the greatest devotion to eloquence, both in its spirit and its external forms,
and who by practice, took his place among the world's eloquent
men, second only to Demosthenes.
In the whole history of Cicero's life, it appears that he endeavored, with the greatest assiduity, first to form an idea of
a perfect orator, and then to approximate as nearly as possible
to this image in his mind.  In his works we have the portraiture of the ideal of excellence, the result of his observation and
reflection.  In his life we have the history of his efforts to realize in his 6wn person, his ideal of excellence.  He was born
at Arpinum, now a part of the kingdom of Naples, about 107
before Christ.  We are informed that his father made it his
chief employment from the first, to give his sons the best education which Rome could afford. They were bred up with
their cousins, the young Aculeos, in a method approved by Lucius Crassus, a man of the first eloquence, by those very masters who had taught Crassus himself.  After Cicero had thus
gone through a most careful course of training at home, le was
placed at Rome, under an eminent Greek master.  Here, it is
said, he gave the first proof of those shining talents, which
afterwards made him illustrious.  About this time a celebrated rhetorician, Plotius, first set up a Latin school of eloquence
at Rome, whllich was attended by a great number of pupils.
Cicero was very desirous of becoming his scholar, " but was
over-ruled by the advice of the learned, who thought the Greek
masters more useful in forming to the bar."




278
Afterwards, having for a time been placed under the care
of the poet Archias, and having published a poem called Glaueus Pontius, he was in the 17thll year of his age, placed under
the care of Lucius Scaevola, the principal lawyer of that age,
and he carefully treasured up his sayings as so many lessons
of wisdom for his future conduct. During this period he constantly took notes of what he heard, and made comments on
what he read.  He likewise habitually applied himself to the
task of translating the select speeches of the best Greek orators. He likewise translated Aratus on the phlenomenon of
the Heavens, and also published all original poem in honor of
Caius Marills.
At the age of 21 he is supposed to have drawn up those rhetorical pieces on the subject of invention, that still remain.
About this time, Philo, a philosopher of the highest name in
the Academy, fled from the fury of Mithridates, who had made
himself Master of Athens.  Cicero, having become his pupil,
was exceedingly interested in his philosophy, which he studied
with the greatest assiduity. Not long after this, Molo, the
Rhodian, the most celebrated teacher of eloquence, happening
to be at Rome, Cicero, immediately under him, resumed his
rhetorical studies. After this, he kept in the house with him
Diodatus, the Stoic, as his preceptor in various branches of
learning, but more particularly in logic, which Zeno, as he
tells us, calls a close and contracted eloquence, as he called
eloquence alln enlarged or dilated logic, comparing the one to
the fist or hand doubled, and the other to the palm opened.
But while he was thus studying logic, he never suffered a day
to pass without some exercise in oratory, chiefly that of declaiming, which he generally performed with M. Piso and
Quintus Pompey, two young noblemen for whom he had contracted a friendship. About this time Molo, the Rhodian,
came again to Rome, when Cicero a second time put himself
under his instruction.
Cicero had now gone through the course of discipline,
which he lays down as necessary to form a complete orator.
He had learned the rudiments of grammar and languages




279
from the ablest teachers, gone through the studies of humanity, and the polite letters with the poet Archias, been instructed in philosophy by Phoedrus the Epicurean, Philo the Academician, Diodatus the Stoic, and acquired a thorough knowledge of the law from the greatest lawyers in Rome, the two
Scevolas. At the age of 27, the same age at which Demosthenes commenced his career, he undertook the defence of
Roscius of Almeria.
Having been successful in this and some other causes, he
traveled abroad for the improvement of his health, injured by
study, but more especially for improving his style of speaking,
which at that time was monotonous.  During his travels hei
spelt six months at Athens, where he took up his quarters
with Antiochus, the principal philosopher of the old Academy,
under whom he renewed, he says, the studies of his youth.
j.But while engaged in the study of philosophy, he was careful
I not to neglect his rhetorical exercises, which he performed
still every day with Demetrius, the Syrian, an experienced
\ master of the art of speaking.  He next, after visiting Asia,
went to Rhodes, and applied again to Molo for instruction.
The greatest trouble which his master experienced, says Cicero, was to restrain the exuberance of a juvenile imagination
always ready to overflow its banks, within its due channel.
Having finished the circuit of his travels, he came back again
to Italy after an absence of two years, very much improved.
The vehemence of his voice and action was moderated, the redundancy of his style and fancy corrected, his lungs strengthened, and his whole constitution improved.
Soon after his return, in his thirty-first year, he was appointed Quaestor for the island of Sicily. While there, in his
hours of leisure from provincial affairs, he diligently employed
himself, as he did at Rome, in his rhetorical studies, agreeably to the rule which he constantly inculcates, never to let one
day pass without some exercise of this kind.  The country itself, famous of old for its school of oratory, might afford a particular invitation for the revival of those studies.  On his return from Sicily, his oratorical powers, according to his own
judgment, were in their full maturity.




280
I will say nothing of his devotion to those studies which
have a more remote bearing upon eloquence. He devoted himself to the whole circle of human knowledge, that he might
concentrate the whole to the perfecting of his eloquence. The
numerous and valuable fruits of his learning in every branch
of science and the polite arts; in oratory, poetry, philosophy,
law, history, criticism, politics, ethics, prove his almost iIicredible industry; while his own declarations, as well as the history of his life, prove that he accumulated those treasures of
knowledge for the single purpose of preparing himself to be a
finished orator. The spirit of eloquence was the governing
principle of his life, animating him to effort through the whole
course of it. In his soul was emotion, continued emotion,
springing from the subject upon which he spoke, and regulated by reason. Moreover, he was governed by a love of truth,
by a strong sense of right, by a vigorous imagination, high
sympathies with his fellow-men, and a strong will.
The spirit of eloquence attended him during the whole of
his life in its various changes, like the presiding genius of Socrates. It attended him in his childhood as he wandered musing amid the paternal groves on the banks of the cool Filaenus, filling his young soul with the love of excellence. From
the solitude of this domestic scene it attended him to the metropolis, where lie entered the public school to struggle for
the palm with the youth of Rome.  It attended him when, under the poet Archias, lie saw "forms such as glitter in the
muses' eye with orient hues," and when successively under
the two Scaevolas he cultivated an acquaintance with the less
attractive forms of law.  Whether he traveled into Greece in
the pursuit of wisdom, or at home stood up as the advocate of'
the innocent and the injured; whether in the height of his
popularity he was hailed as the father of his country, or driven
by a faction into exile; whether in a military campaign, or
enjoying otium curn dignitate during the ascendancy of Coesar;
whether composing a philosophical treatise, or thundering
forth his philippics against Anthony, the spirit of eloquence
was the ruling spirit in his soul.




CLERGY AND COMMON SCHOOLS.
DURHAM, CONN., December, 1867.
HENRY BARNARD, LL. D.:
Dear Sir:-A few weeks since I had the pleasure of receiving from you a letter, in which you ask mne to communicate
some facts connected with the common schools in Connecticut
" as they were." While I was endeavoring to collect these
facts, I met some gentlemen in Hartford who are active in
promoting the educational interests of the Commonwealth;
one of whom encouraged me to prepare for the press, some
remarks which I made on a topic which came up in that
interview. This I consented to do, with the purpose of uniting the two topics in one communication.
But to whom shall this communication be addressed? My
mind readily turned to you as a distinguished friend and
advocate of popular education who has labored long and successfully in this State and elsewhere, first as a pioneer, and
then as a victorious soldier, in this good cause. I feel, too,
assured that you will welcome every well-meant effort for,promoting the same cause, however inadequate it may be.
The topic, last mentioned, is, THE PROVINCE OF THE CLERGY
OF CONNECTICUT IN THE PROMOTION OF POPULAR EDUCATION IN
THIS COMMONWEALTH.
These remarks and statements, will, I trust, be well received
by them, inasmuch as they are in harmony with the views of
the clergy of Connecticut from 1635 to the present time.
The proposition which I shall endeavor to sustain, by the
following plain arguments, is this, Ministers of the Gospel in
Connecticut ought to take an active part in promoting popular
education.




282
My first argument in support of this proposition, is derived
from the nature of Christianity.
It is a religion which addresses accountable beings through
their intellect. Just in proportion, therefore, as you improve
their intellect by culture, will you enlarge their capacity of
being influenced, in their moral instincts, by the objects of
divine truth in that religion. Now as Christianity is a general provision for the spiritual wants of all mankind, we may
be sure that all classes of the community ought to experience
so much of intellectual culture as will enable them to appreciate and appropriate the full benefit of that provision.
Other religious systems were designed, at least in some of
their parts, for certain privileged orders, who should enjoy
high mental culture; while the many, the oi polloi, were excluded from a full participation. Those systems had their
esoteric or secret doctrines, which were communicated to the
favored few, the initiated; and their exoteric or superficial
doctrines, which were communicated to the common people,
who were supposed to be incapable of comprehending those
deeper doctrines.
But among Christians it is not so. To the poor the Gospel
is preached. To them  it is given to know the mysteries of
the Kingdom. Now in order that this preaching be effectual,
in order that these mysteries be adequately comprehended,
some degree of mental cultivation is necessary.  Evidently,
then, it is the duty of the Christian minister to promote the
intellectual improvement of those whom he wishes to influence by his preaching; for in so doing he is preparing them
to understand and appreciate the truths and duties of the
Christian religion, and to yield their conscience and their
heart to Christ the author of that religion. No Christian
minister, therefore, is justified in standing aloof from the
great cause of popular education; for, without it, the light
of the Gospel will shine in darkness, and the darkness will
comprehend it not.
In the early period of the Christian dispensation, the Clergy,
the great lights of the Catholic church, acted successfully on




283
this principle; though they did not, in the existing social
condition, extend it in its application, so far as we can do.
They carefully guarded and preserved the learning of the
times in which they lived, and, by the establishment of institutions of learning and religion, helped to keep both, in- their
intimate association. alive on the earth. They carefully preserved the Greek and Roman classics, the Pandects of Justinian, the Hebrew copies of the Old Testament, and the
Greek of the New Testament.  Thus it happened, through
them, that classical learning could revive, and that "the
public reason of the Romans " could be silently and studiously transfused into the public institutions of Europe, and
the study of the Bible could become general. In many an
Abbey and University, the lamp of learning, trimmed by their
hands, burned brightly, illuminating a wider or a narrower
circle, and sending down its cheering light to our times.
Honor to whom honor is due. Let all honor be paid to the
Catholic church, as the conservator and promoter of learning
and religion.  When darkness covered the earth like a flood
during the mediaeval centuries, that church was the ark which
saved for us the learning and religion of the old world. All
thanks to the bright example of her heroic missionaries; for
the recorded lives of those eminent saints, who, through the
long centuries, bore the mingled fruits of learning and holiness,-for such as " Pascal who was all reason," and for such
as " Fenelon who was all love."
My second argument is derived from the nature of Protestantism.
The right of private judgment, in opposition to human claims
to a dictatorial authority, in matters of faith, is an essential
article in the Protestant faith.  Now this single fact, that we
are to call no man master, is assumed on the ground that the
followers of Christ are capable of forming, from the Bible,
an opinion for themselves; and in order to form this opinion
for themselves, from the study of the Bible, they ought at
least to be able to read the Bible. For how can a man, in
the exercise of the right of private judgment, form a correct
36




284
judgment except on a correct basis, and how can lihe have a
satisfactory basis in the Bible, unless he understands that
Bible?
Besides the acknowledged advantages which they enjoyed
in the Catholic church-, some of the first reformers desired to
enjoy this right of private judgment. They wished to escape
from the heavy hand of authority by which they felt themselves humiliated. They were opposed to what was called
carbonaria fides, " the collier's faith," or implicit faith. A
collier being asked what he believed on a certain point, replied, "1 I believe as the church believes." And being asked
what the church believes, he replied, " The church believes
as I believe." And being asked again what he and the church
believe, he replied, " The church and I believe the same
thing."
Leading Protestants, in opposition to this carbonaria fides,
undertook to have a faith of their own, and to be able to state
the grounds of their faith. In the language of Chillingworth,
" the Bible, the Bible is the religion of' Protestants."  In
adopting this for their motto they virtually declared that the
common people ought to be elevated to such a level in the
scale of mental cultivation, that in the exercise of the right
of private judgment in the formation of their opinions from
the Bible, they would not'" wrest it to their own destruction."
The contest on the subject at issue, between Luther and his
allies on the one hand, and the Pope and his Cardinals on the
other, was like the battle between the gods, as described by
Homer, or the battle between angels, as described by Milton.
There was great intellectual power and great learning on
both sides; and it required intellectual cultivation to judge
of the merits of that controversy.  Luther translated the
Bible; but of what use would that be, unless the people could
read that translation? Luther, Melancthon, and Carlostadius,
all men of great learning, delivered lectures in the University
of Wittemburg, whicl helped to enlighten the people and give
currency to his doctrines. The revival of classical learning
near that time contributed largely to the same effect.




285
In like manner the Protestant religion of England was
permeated with learning, which the Episcopal church there
have zealously promoted ever since they took possession of
the Catholic schools and universities. Indeed, the leading
Protestants throughout Europe had been highly educated in
the Roman Catholic schools, and were thus disposed to imitate
and surpass them in the establishment of such institutions.
Accordingly, in Protestant regions, schools of learning soon
shone forth on the earth, thick-set as the stars in the sky
above. Voetius, a learned Protestant, boasted that while in
the ten Catholic provinces of Belgium there were only two
universities, in the ten Protestant provinces there were seven.
It is true that what is now understood by popular education
was not then thought of as practicable. The Reformers seem
not to have supposed it possible that the delights and advantages of learning could be brought down to the lowest stratum
of the population. But they adopted principles and measures
that are now operating in Germany in the education of the
masses, and which justify the clergy here in promoting popular education by direct and efficient means.
My third argument is derived from the nature of Puritanism.
Besides the general principles of Christianity and of Protestantism, the Puritans adopted the opinion that the people are
capable of self-government, both in their civil and in their
ecclesiastical polity. This opinion implied that the people
should be qualified, by education, to perform the duties involved in self-government.  Accordingly, as soon as their
circumstances would allow, like the Catholics, like the Protestants, they adopted measures, both in England and in this
country, to establish schools and colleges, under the direction
of their learned divines. These had generally been educated
in the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. In eleven years
after the settlement of Massachusetts, they laid the foundation of Harvard College, to the support of which Connecticut
annually contributed. In seventeen years, they established
a system of common schools. The clergy, as is well known,
were active in establishing and sustaining these institutions




286
in Massachusetts. As advisors, as patrons, as teachers and
visitors, they exerted a controlling and salutary influence.
Without going into an induction of particulars, it is suffi-'cient for my purpose here to say., that the whole history of
the Puritans shows abundantly, that they have been staunch
believers in the value of local law. They have believed that
a church can govern itself better than any outside person or
body can govern it; that a town can govern itself better than
a colony or a state can govern it; that the colony can govern
itself better than parliament can govern it; that a state can
govern itself better than congress can govern it.  But in
order to this successful self-government, in these several circles of power, they have also believed that the people must
be educated in the schocl of Christ, and at least, in common
schools. On this same belief the clergy have acted earnestly
and efficiently.
Listen to the prayer made by Eliot, the Apostle John, in a
synod of ministers in Boston: " Lord, for schools everywhere
among us!  That our schools may flourish!  That every
member of this assembly may go home and procure a good
school to be encouraged in the town where he lives! That
before we die we may be so happy as to see a good school
encouraged in every plantation of the country!"  This was
the spirit of the early ministers, and their conduct was in
accordance with their spirit.
My fourth argument is derived from the nature of the profession into which ministers have entered.
The object of that profession is to raise the souls of men
from their earthly condition into union with the divine nature,
that they may thus become the intelligent, and holy, and
happy inhabitants of earth and of heaven; to raise them from
the power of appetite and passion into the dominion of reason and conscience. This the minister endeavors to accomplish by commending to them the truths of God's holy word
illustrated by the teachings of His providence.
In like manner it is the object of popular education so to
raise men in the scale of knowledge, virtue, and happiness, that




287
they become good citizens; to elevate the tastes of the young
from sensuality, from the bar and the brandy saloon, from
the haunts of loafers and gamblers, into the love and the
pursuit of the true, the good, and the beautiful. Thus the
minister and the educator are largely aiming at the same
thing; though the motives employed by the former are always
supposed to be chiefly drawn from a higher world, and the
motives employed by the latter may be chiefly drawn from
this. The Christian minister has, then, every encouragement
to act strenuously for the promotion of popular education,
with the full belief that while he is promoting that, he is at
the same time promoting the object of his own profession.
The minister and the school-master are fellow laborers in
the same field. The field is the world. When " the schoolmaster is abroad," let the minister go forth to meet him and
join himself to him as a fellow laborer. Let them encourage
each other and bear each other's burdens, both looking forward to "the harvest home," when they shall bring their
sheaves with them.
My fifth argument is derived from the position occupied by
the Clergy of Connecticut during more than two hundred years.
From  the early legislation of the Colonies it appears, that
a reason given why schools should be supported, was, namely:
that the young could in them be so taught that they would
be able to " read the Bible" and the " capital laws," and
thus be " fitted for service in the church and commonwealth."
In the order to establish a free school in 1641, in New Haven,
" Our pastor, Mr. Davenport," is mentioned with the magistrates, as committee " to consider what yearly allowance is
meet to be given out of the common stock of the town," for
the support of the school; and also, "' what rules and orders
are meet to be observed in and about the same." And, in
1644, the General Court ordered that a grammar school be
set up and appointed, and that the 1" Magistrates and the
Teaching Elders " be a committee to attend to that, for the
same purposes as in the case of the first mentioned or common school. It appears that Governor Eaton and Mr. Dav



288
enport were the active men in thus establishing a system of
free schools in the Colony.
And after the Colonies were united, the General Court, in
1690, ordered as follows: " This Court considering the necessary and great advantage of good literature, do order and
appoint, that there shall be two good free schools kept in this
Colony, for the schooling of all such children as shall come
there after they can distinctly read the psalter, to be taught
reading, writing, arithmetic, the Latin and the English languages, the one at Hartford, the other at New Haven, the
masters whereof shall be chosen by the magistrates and the
ministers of the said counties, and shall be inspected and displaced by them, if they see cause."  These were grammar
schools, after the model of the free, or endowed grammar
schools of England, in which the Latin and the English languages were to be taught grammatically.
While I thus notice the prominence that was given to the
clergy in the establishment of free schools, it should be mentioned that by the original Constitution of Connecticut the
" supreme power of the Commonwealth" was lodged in the
General Court, which for a long time afterwards gave prominence to the clergy in all matters connected with education.
It should be added that the SCHOOL-MASTERS were treated
with great consideration from the first. They were among
the few at the first, who received the title of'" Mr.," and not
that of " brother," or " good man."  The school-master stood
next to the minister in the minds of the people; just as he
does in Goldsmith's inimitable description in " The Deserted
Village: "
" And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew."
He was on familiar terms with the minister, and often
derived important aid from him in the government and instruction of his school, and kept him informed as to the proficiency of individual pupils. It is a tradition, that a schoolmaster in Guilford from time to time informed the minister,
the Rev. Joseph Elliott, that his son, afterwards the celebrated




289
Jared Elliott, was not making much proficiency in his studies.
On one occasion, when carrying his book to school, Jared let
it fall into the water, and when standing by the fire to dry it,
he let it fall into the fire.  Upon being reprimanded by the
master, he replied, " I believe my book is a lunatic, it is oft
in the fire and oft in the water." The school-master, as soon
as the school was dismissed, hastened to the minister to say
to him, " Jared will make a man after all."
Many of the school-masters in the principal towns, one at
least in each town, made teaching their principal employment
through the year, namely, such as Cheever, and Tisdale, and
Jones. Other intelligent men taught school in winter, and
managed their farms in the summer; one of these, who was
born in 1727, told me that, in this way, he taught school
thirty years. Others, chiefly young men, often the flower of
the town, well-educated for the times, and from good families,
taught school for a few winters, until they were married.
Females, called school-mistresses, and school-dames, taught
the small schools in the summer.  Clergymen often taught
select schools in the winter, for the older youth in their congregations.
Among these teachers there were indeed those who were
but poorly qualified for their employment. Some such are
described by John Trumbull, in his ~" Progress of -Dullness:"
" He tries, with ease and unconcern,
To teach what ne'er himself could learn;
Gives law and punishment alone,
Judge, jury, bailiff, all in one;
Holds all good learning must depend
Upon the rod's extremest end,
Whose great electric touch is such,
Each genius brightens at the touch.
With threats and blows, excitements pressing,
Drives on his lads to learn each lesson;
Thinks flogging cures all moral ills,
And breaks their heads to break their wills."
But there were other school-masters who led their pupils
gently up the hillside of learning, bearing their burdens, sympathizing with their difficulties, and by kind looks, kind tones,




290
and winning ways, gaining their hearts.  They did for them
what Aristotle did for Alexander the Great, who, in return,
said, he loved him better than he did his father Philip, for
the " latter was only the father of his body, but his teacher
was the father of his mind."  They did for them what Mr.
Elmer, her teacher, did for Lady Jane Grey, who, she said,
" taught me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning; that I think all the time nothing, while I
am with him, and when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because, whatever I do else, but learning, is full of grief,
trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me." I could mention the name of a Connecticut school-master, who in 1782
taught a select school.  About fifty years afterwards, a pupil
in that school made a journey of many miles to see him, and
thank him  for his counsels and instruction, bestowed upon
him when hle was only eight or ten years of age.
What a beautiful letter Daniel Webster wrote to his old
school-master, July 20th, 1852, the last year of his life!
" MASTER TAPPAN, I hear, with much pleasure, through the
public press, that you continue to enjoy life, with mental
faculties bright and vivid, although you have arrived at a
very advanced age, and are somewhat infirm. I came to-day,
from the very spot in which you taught me; and to me a most
delightful spot it is. The river and the hills are as beautiful
as ever. But the graves of my father and mother, and brothers and sisters, and early friends, give it to me something of
the appearance of a city of the dead.  But let us not repine.
You have lived long, and my life is already not short; and
we have both much to be thankful for. Two or three persons
are still living, who, like myself, were brought up, sub tua
ferula.  They remember' Master Tappan.'
"And now, my good old master, receive a renewed tribute of
affectionate regard from your grateful pupil; with his wishes
and prayers for your happiness, in all that remains to you of
this life, and more especially, for your rich participation,
hereafter, in the more durable riches of righteousness.Daniel Webster." Mr. Webster was born January 18, 1782.




291
This letter is a beautiful picture of the feelings entertained
by ingenuous children, for good school-masters in the last
century.
For a long period the only two BooKs in common use in
district schools, were, first, the " New.England Primer," which
was an equivalent, among the Puritans here, for a small
prayer book, called the' Primer " among the Roman Catholies. Thllis, with its frontispiece of John Rogers in the flames,
and his wife and nine children looking on, excited in the
mind of the young child while learning its first lesson, the
deepest sensibility.  There was in it the beautiful cradle
hymn of Watts, appealing, as it does, to the highest sentiments of our nature; and the shorter catechism, to be committed to memory and repeated every Saturday.
The other book was the "Psalter," namely, the book of
Psalms printed separately. This also was an equivalent for
a certain Roman Catholic book so called.
Arithmetic was taught in these common schools, the teacher
only having a book, and writing the sums for the pupil, and
showing him how to do them.  Sewing was taught by schooldames.
Writing was also taught, the teacher writing the copy and
handing it to the pupil with the question, " Can you read
your copy?"
At a later period, " Dilworth's Sp.elling Book, or New Guide,"
published 1740, was introduced.  He was an Englishman,
and died in England, 1781. His book was for a time in common use. Trumbull alludes to it thus, in 1772:
"Our master says, (I'm sure he is right,)
There's not a lad in town so bright,
He'll cypher bravely, write and read,
And say his catechism and creed,
And scorn to hesitate or falter,
In Primer, Spelling-Book, or Psalter."
His " School Mlaster's Assistant," an arithmetic, was published, after his Spelling Book had been well received, in
1743, and was dedicated to'" The Reverend and Worthy School
37




292
Masters in Great Britain and Ireland."  School-masters in
Connecticut used this book in their schools. The sums given
out were often cyphered at home in the evening. Classes
were also taught by the master in the evening, for which a
small stipend was given.
In 1784, Webster's Spelling Book began to replace Dilworth's, though with some opposition.  6 Dilworth's Ghost"
was written to deter the people of the State from the change.
Webster's book was entitled, "6 The First Part of the Grammatical Institute of the English Language."  This book, I have
heard him say, was introduced into the schools of Connecticut through the influence of the clergymen of Connecticut;
though it was highly recommended by others. After this,
the " Second Part " in the series, was introduced, which was
published in 1790. This was a grammar. After this, the
" Third Part " in the series, was introduced. It was a reading book, and was published in 1792.  "D4wight's Geography"
began to be used in the schools of Conncticut, in 1795. It
was prepared by Nathaniel Dwight, a brother of Timothy
Dwight.  Morse's Geography was also used, more or less,
soon after its publication.
The first clergymen of Connecticut were educated, many
of them, at the Universities in England, and had enjoyed
intercourse with the learned and polished clergymen of the
Episcopal Church there. As we see them now on the canvas,
in their wigs, and bands, and gowns, we are impressed with
the belief that they were gentlemen. Their manners were
grave, dignified and courteous, and they were regarded by the
school-masters, and gentlemen, and all of the people, as the
models of good manners. Thus it long continued the case
with their successors in office. In the schools in the Colony
of Connecticut, it was expected that not only learning, and
religion, and morality should be cultivated, but also cooD
MANNERS, in opposition to clownishness on the one hand, and
rowdyism on the other. The pupils were expected to bow or
courtesy, or, in other words, to make their manners when they
entered the school, and when they left it; and when they




293
began the recitation, and when they retired.  They were
taught to address the teacher with the title of'"Master."
They were taught to show respect to age, and station, and
moral worth:- to take off their hats when they met respectable
persons, as the ministers and principal men were accustomed
to do. This regard for minor morals, carried out in many
particulars, prevailed in Connecticut for something like two
hundred years.  By thus cultivating the sentiment of politeness in the young, their hearts became better, socially, and
good manners became common law.
In some of the acts of the General Court, the "' GOVERNMENT 99 of schools is spoken of as if it were as important as
instruction. In those days children were expected to be governed, not coaxed. This government, in those times, is described as being unreasonably severe. So it was, judged of
by our own standard.  But in those times there was, in many
places, a high type of discipline in the church, in the family,
and in the town. They or their fathers had left England in
order that they might have a purer church, and how could
they have a purer church without discipline?  Parents, in
those days, had large families; Dr. Johnson malignantly said
of them that'" they multiplied with the fecundity of their
own rattlesnakes."  Besides, the Pilgrims had left Holland
that their children might not be corrupted. Large families
require stricter discipline than small ones. In the town, the
whipping-post was a standing proof of the importance attached to discipline. The same doctrine prevailed in the
schools, as it also did in the English schools.  Ministers, too,
were full believers in the doctrine, that G" the rod and reproof
bring wisdom."   Accordingly the rod was used, and the
ferule, and the block of disgrace, a sort of i" stool of repentance," on which the culprit sat, until he was willing to submit
to the rules of the school.
But the clergy of Connecticut exerted a MORE DIRECT INFLUENCE ill favor of popular or universal education in the
State. Having themselves, most of them, been trained, when
young, in common schools, a large number of them  became




294
teachers in them  or in select schools, during their college
course or afterwards. Numbers of them, when settled, kept
school in their own houses, for the young people of their congregations. Clergymen founded Yale College, and for more
than one hundred and fifty years have controlled it, and presided over it. For one hundred and thirty years a large part
of the students of the State, educated in it, were fitted for
college by clergymen.  When I concluded to go to college I
applied to Dr. John Elliot to fit me for Yale. He told me
that he "' felt under the same obligation to lend his aid in fitting young men for college that he did to preach the Gospel."
Clergymen were on the committee for the examination of
school-masters, and the inspection of schools. They visited
the schools, at least at the commencement of the season, and
at the close. In this way they became acquainted with the
comparative merits of the several schools, and of the several
teachers, and of the several pupils. They made the condition
and importance of the schools one of their common topics in
conversation, alluded to schools often in their sermons, and
in their public prayers on the Sabbath, they would say, in
respect to them  and the college, "' cast the salt of Divine
Grace into these fountains, that the streams, that annually
flow from them, may make glad the city and the church of
our God." For a long time the town was the parish, and the
town schools were the parish schools, which the minister felt,
officially, bound to foster. And in doing this they were often
rewarded, even while living, with the gratitude, the love, and
the confidence of three generations.  And when such a one
died, great lamentation was made over him.  And when
carried to his grave, he was mourned by the fathers, and the
children; and the children's children, as one who had taught
them how to think as men, how to act as Christians, and how
to behave as gentlemen; as a light-bearer, who had held for
them the torch of' knowledge, in the meeting-house, in the
school-house, and in the dwelling-house; a torch which some
of them were ready to seize and hold up in turn in the church,
in the school, and in the family. To these ministers, we sons




295
of Connecticut owe something more than gratitude; we owe
them undying affection as our spiritual and educational forefathers.
In the minds of the early clergymen of Connecticut, the
church and the school-the meeting-house for the one, and the
school-house for the other —were closely associated. In the
early settlement of a town, as soon as the meeting-house was
erected, if not sooner, the school-house was built, near the
meeting-house, the one a symbol of learning, the other of
religion. When the minister was settled, the school-master
was sure to follow to establish his little seminary, from which
the church was to be supplied with intelligent members, and
the town with intelligent inhabitants.
With the type of the old Connecticut school-house, which
replaced the one constructed of logs, and its slender appointments, many are acquainted, as some such are still standing.
There was the large chimney, often on the north end, with
its large fire-place, before which the children could warm
themselves when they came in, or after shivering on the outer
circle of benches.  On one side of the chimney was a small
entry, and on the other, was a small apartment for the hats,
or buff caps, and bonnets, and which served the purpose of a
prison, in which were confined disobedient and refractory
children.  Long benches, without backs, on which the children sat, and thus learned to sustain themselves.
Having been confined in the school from nine o'clock until
about eleven, and from  one until about three, they, at the
notice of the master, hastened to the play-ground fresh from
the " constraint that sweetens liberty."  Here they contended
with each other in feats of agility and strength. They were
encouraged to wrestle and to run well, because they might
have to wrestle with the Indians in battle, or to run with
them, for escape or for capture. Accordingly somle of them
emulated the strength of Jacob, who wrestled with the Angel,
and some, the fleetness of Asahel, who " was as light of foot
as a wild roe."
And when, perchance, some well-known person was passing,




the word would come out from some of them, that parsonor squire —or doctor-or deacon-was coming. Immediately
they would leave their play for a moment, take off their hats,
or caps, and then resume their play.  This ready act of civility, they would pay with a conscious sense of politeness,with a "' proud submission," which raised them in their own
estimation.  They had been taught in the church, in the
family, and the school, to respect what is respectable, and to' do their duties to superiors, inferiors, and equals."
It should be added that in the settlement of the country
towns, before the districts were weakened by being divided,
the schools were often large.  " The boys came to school in
the winter, the only season in which schools were usually open,
from distances of several miles, wading through the snow, or
running upon the crust, with their curly heads of hair often
whitened with frost from their own breath."
VISITATION DAY, in the spring, when the inspectors visited
the schools, was a great day in the district.  The minister
and some of the principal men were present.  The schoolmaster was in his glory, now that others had come to magnify
his office.  Many of the parents were present.  The inspectors were interested to behold the " s2)ern gregis," the
hope of the church and the town.  The psalter was read by
the older children, and the primer by the younger ones. The
writing books and the arithmetic books were handed round.
In later times, lessons in spelling from the spelling book were
put out. The catechism was recited. The inspectors made
their remarks, particularly the minister, upon the proficiency
of the school, the manners, the morals, the religion.  A
prayer was then made by the clergyman, in which these several topics were alluded to.
It should be added that a prayer was made by the schoolmaster in a portion of the schools, at nine o'clock, when the
school came together in the morning, and at four. In other
schools, a prayer was made only at four, when the school was
dismissed.
On this subject, listen to the language of President Timo



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thy Dwight: "'Of learning and the general diffusion of useful
knowledge, the clergy as individuals, have, beyond any other
class of men, been the promoters. To this, their own knowledge, the general nature of their office, and their comparative
leisure from the busy occupations of life, almost necessarily
lead. In the foundation and the regulation of no small number of our schools, they are directly concerned as principals.
To our college they gave birth, continuance, a considerable
proportion of its property, and the whole system of its gqvernment and instruction. They have supported and educated
more scholars of charity, than the whole community besides;
nor is there at this time, unless I am deceived, a single school
of consideration in the State, in which they have not a principal agency."
Thus the meeting-house was the center of illumination for
the town, and the school-house was the center of illumination
for the district. The lights in both were steady, irradiating
the whole surface of the State, like the lights which on some
evenings illumine all the northern sky. This was before the
cunning artificers of the press sent up their fireworks to
dazzle by their glare and mislead. It was the influence of
these steady lights that made Connecticut THE LAND OF STEADY
HABITS; a model commonwealth, where, from the cultivation
of the arts and sciences, from the general diffusion of knowledge, the people have in the exercise of the rights of private
judgment, pursued a wise policy in their public acts, and in
the administration of their own private and local affairs.
It would exceed my limits to show forth the great results of
the educational efforts of the clergy of Connecticut. These
would have to be sought not only in the territorial limits of
the State, but throughout our broad country, wherever the
emigrating sons and daughters of Connecticut have fixed
their habitation.
Thus, my dear Sir, have I endeavored, briefly to show, that
the ministers of the Gospel ought to take a prominent part in
popular education; from the nature of the Christian religion;
from the nature of Protestantism; from the nature of Puri



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tanism; from the nature of their own profession; from the
position long occupied by clergymen.  In  doing this, they
ought to be encouraged by the towns, as they were formerly.
How they should do this, I do not presume to say.  Each
of them  has his own gift; each his own circumstances. They
have that wisdom in the selection of means, which is profitable to direct.
Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
WILLIAM C. FOWLER.
P. S.-Your very valuable Report of 1853, when you were Superintendent of
Common Schools in Connecticut, renders it unnecessary that I should enlarge my
statements on certain topics of interest.