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ON THE LIFE AND CHIARACTER
OF
PARKER CLEAVELAND, LLe Do9
LATE PROFESSOR OF CHEMIISTRY, MINERALOGY, AND NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
IN BOWDOIN COLLEGE.
Delivered in Augusta, Jalnlnary 19, 1859, before the Maine listorical Society;
BY LEONARD WOODS, D. D.,
PRESIDENT OF BOWDOIN COLLEGE.
Vublbflt  bIn VTote of tIep grutees  il atl Obrerr  of B3hotfa  Collteg,
and of the Palne Mfstovical 5ocfet,.
PORTLAND:
PRINTED  BY  BROWN  T HURSTON.
1 8 5 9.








PROFESSOR CLEAVELAND.
AT a meeting of the Society  held in Augusta, Jan. 19th,
1859, the death of Parker Cleaveland, late Corresponding
Secretary, was announced; and the President of the Society
thereupon  submitted  the  following  preamble and  resolutions, which were unanimously adopted:
" PARKER CLEAVELAND, whose lamented death occurred on the fifteenth
day of October last, was one of the earliest associates of this Society, and
one of its officers from the first year of its existence to the close of his long
and useful life, a period of thirty-six years. First, he was Librarian and
Cabinet Keeper, as successor to the eminent Dr. Payson, from 1822 to 1828;
then Corresponding Secretary to the time of his death; and for many
years one of the Standing Committee.
66 In all these relations, he was ever true, prompt, and faithfil; and whenever the honor or the interest of our Society demanded his effort, he was
not wanting. In his various public duties, as in his most inner private life,
he always bore the same clear and honorable record.'6 In common, therefore, with the learned collegiate institution, which he
served so long and well; the great body of scientific men and students, ill
whose behalf his zeal never abated; and the community at large, which he
elevated and instructed by a noble life; it is most proper, that this Society




of which he was ever a valued and devoted associate and officer, should lay
upon his grave an appropriate offering of respect, affection, and praise.
" Be it therefore Resolved:
" 1. That an eulogy be pronounced before this Society, in commemoration
of the virtues and services of our late beloved and venerated associate and
friend, Professor Cleaveland.' 2. That our respected associate, Leonard Woods, of Bowdoin College,
be requested to deliver the eulogy at the adjourned meeting of the Society
at Augusta; and that it be deposited in its archives, and published with its
transactions.
" 3. That the Hon. Mr. Gardiner, the Hon. Mr. Bradbury, of Augusta,
and John McKeen, Esq., of Brunswick, be a committee to make suitable arrangements for the occasion.
"4. That the Recording Secretary communicate the foregoing preamble
and resolutions to the family of the deceased, and to President Woods."




NOTICE.
The Address delivered at Augustanbefore the Miaine Historical Society,
and now published in the sixth volume of its Collections, is the same, in
substance, as that which was pronounced at Brunswick a few months before,
at the funeral of Professor Cleaveland.  It contains, however, some biographical details, which were then omitted in the delivery for want of time,
or which had not then come to my knowledge.  For the means of completina the biographical sketch then hastily drawn, I am  indebted to copious
and valuable manuscripts kindly furnished me by Nehemiah Cleaveland,
Esq., of New York, and by Rev. John P. Cleaveland, D. D., of Lowell,
whose  opportunities of familiar intercourse  with  their  distinguished
kinsman during the early stages of his long public life, give great interest
to their personal recollections. I am also indebted to Peleg WiV. Chandler,
Esq., of Boston, and to the resident members of Prof. Cleaveland's family,
for various memoranda, and for free access to the files of his letters. To
these gentlemen, to William B. Sewall, Esq., of Kennebunk, who has placed
at my service several interesting extracts frotn his early correspondence with
the professor, and to others who have rendered me assistance in various
ways, I am  happy to make here my grateful tacknowledlgerments.
L. W.
BruuNswIci, SEPTo 26, 18592








EULOGY ON PROF. CLEAVELAND.
Mr. President, and Gentlemenz of the Maine Historical
Society:
IN some remarks introductory to the first volume of our
Collections, which are understood to have proceeded from
the classic pen of Judge Ware, it is justly represented as
one object of this Society, to furnish " biographical notices
of men eminent for their public services." And it may well
be doubted whether we have any more appropriate duty than
this. The Society certainly should regard itself, not as a mere
collector of dry materials for the future historian, but also
as a living organ, through which the State represented by
it, may express its grateful remembrance of those from
whom it has derived profit or honor. Its care should be,
that as, one after another, our great men are removed by
death, their noble gifts, their faithful services, their shining
examples, should be held forth to view, and set, if I may so
speak, as jewels in the crown by which this youthful State
already aspires to emulate her elder sisters. Nor has this
duty been hitherto neglected by this Society. How gracefully and well it has sometimes been performed, especially
with regard to the distinguished men who have been taken
from its own ranks, need not be said to those who have attended some of our recent meetingso




A new occasion has now arisen for the discharge of tlis
ever recurring duty.  Within the past few months, two of
the oldest and most venerated members of this Society and
of this Commonwealth, Professor Cleaveland and Dr. Nich.
ols, have been removed by death. They were both members of Harvard Collegce at the same time, though not of
the same standing.  They were both tutors in that College,
Dr. Nichols having been chosen to fill the place vacated by
Professor Cleaveland. From that office they were both
called to eminent positions in this State, which they, from
that time forward, continued to occupy, the one a little
more, the other only a little less, than half a century.  Of
both of them it may be said, that they were foremost in the
spheres which they respectively filled. Both were members
of this Society from its origin, and held successively the
same office of Corresponding Secretary.  Thus united in so
many respects in their lives, in their deaths they were not
long separated.  They were gleaners with us for a while
in these solemn and shadowy regions of the Past, but have
been garnered before us, as shocks of corn fully ripe. To
both of them there have been already rendered, in the
places where they had lived so long, appropriate and distinguished honors; but to each of them there is also due
some commemorative notice from this Society.  To dischatge this duty toward one of them, is the object of our
present assembling; and in pursuance of the resolutions
which have now been read, I shall proceed to give a sketch
of the life of Professor Cleaveland, and to exhibit a few
of the more obvious traits of his official and personal
character.
PARKER CLEAVELAND was born on the fifteenth day of Jan.
uary, 1780, and accordingly, had he lived, would have just
nowv entered on his eightieth year.  He was a native of By.
field, a small parish formed out of adjacent parts of the




towns of Newbury aud Rowley, in Essex County, Mass.,
and famous as the birth-place of many eminent men, and
as the seat of the oldest academy in New  England.  IHe
sprung' from a stock in which the old Puritan principles and
discipline had been revived and perpetuated, long after they
had gone into a general decline.  His grandfather, Revo
John Cleaveland, while yet a member of Yale College
(1744), had enlisted on the side of 1M1r. Whitefield, and had
at the same time warmly embraced the doctrines of the
Fathers of Nev England, which were so powerfully reasserted by this great preacher and his followers. But althou-gh the cause of Mr. Whitefield, doctrinally considered,
was only Puritanism revived, it was conducted by measures
deemed subversive of the established order of the churches,
and was, on this account, not less obnoxious, at this period,
to the G:vernmlent of Yale, than of HIarvard College. And
accordingly, John Cleaveland  and his brother Ebenezer,
having presumed to attend on the ministrations of a lay
exhorter of the Whitefield stamp, and having refused to'ac.
kntowledge that they were censurable for an act against
which there was no law known to them, and which was committed while they were at home during vacation, eighty
miles firom the College, in company with their parents and
a majority of the members of the Church to which they belonged, were both, for this cause expelled from the College;
as David Brainerd had been, three years before, for an offence not dissimilar. 1  As might have been expected, the
Cleavelands devoted themselves to the cause they had embraced, all the more zealously for the harsh treatment they
had received. It was in consequence of his zeal for the
old doctrines and the new measures for which his party was
1 See Trumbull's Hist of Conn., vol. ii. p. 179. Also Prof. Fisher's Discourse Commemorative of the Hist. of the Church of Christ in Yale Coll.,
Appendix, No. vi. p. 50.




10
distinguished, that John, the grandfather of our Professor,
received a call, shortly after he was licensed to preach,
from the separatist society in Boston, meeting in the  u.guenot Church in School Street, where the expatriated
Bowdoins had before worshipped; and that, having declined
this call, he soon after received another, which he accepted,
from the separatist society in the parish of Chebacco in
Ipswich, now the town of Essex. During his long ministry
of fifty-two years in this place, he was distinguished for the
sineere, though unpolished energy7 with which he maintained
that freer system of ecclesiastical order, and at the same
time that stricter system  of evangelical doctrine, which
characterized the advocates of Mr. Whitefield in New England. 1
It deserves also to be mentioned, as showing the stuff
of which the stock was made from which our Professor
sprung, that his grandfather was no less zealous as a patriot than as a Puritan.  He served as Chaplain in the illstarred expedition against Ticonderoga in the year 1758,
and in the following year at Louisburgr, and at several stations of the Continental army during the Revolutionary
War.  To use the words of Dr. Parish in his funeral discourse: "The waters of Champlain, the rocks of Cape
Breton, the fields of Cambridge, and the banks of the Connecticut and the Hudson, listened to the fervor of his patriotic addresses."
The father of the Professor, Parker Cleaveland, M. D.)
was the second son of Rev. John Cleaveland of Chebacco,
and the worthy inheritor of his religious and political prin.
ciples. He settled early in life, as a physician, in Byfield,
on the Rowley side, where he continued, with the exception
of a few short intervals, to the time of his death, in 1826.
1 See his earlier controversies with Dr. Pickering, and his later controversy with Dr. Mayhewo




11
Though a man of strong natural powers, careful and judicious and for that day well read as a physician, he had
but little worldly tact, and accordingly but little success in
his medical practice. The glory of his character was its
religious element. No subjects interested him so much as
the great doctrines of theology.  These he had deeply meditated from a child. While embracing the higher views he
had learned from his father, he was well informed with regard to all the shades of theological speculation then prevalent in New England, and could discuss them with clearness and ability.  He also took a deep interest in the
welfare of his country: At the beginning of hostilities in
1775, he went as a surgeon to the camp at Cambridge,
where he found his father and two uncles and three brothers, already enlisted in various capacities. And having been
an ardent whig and patriot during the Revolution, he became
an equally ardent and patriotic federalist of the early Republic. In that distinguished body, the Massachusetts Convention of 1780, Dr. Cleaveland represented the town of
Rowley, and again, forty years afterwards, when the State
summoned her collected age and wisdom to revise the Constitution.
Shortly after his settlement in Byfield, he married Elizabeth Jackman, the daughter of a neighboring farmer, a plain,
sensible, good woman, retiring and reserved, and in her
physical organization singularly feeble and excitable. So
peculiarly subject was she to electrical influences, that on the
near approach of a thunder storm she was always violently
agitated, and often thrown into convulsions. It was seven
years after their marriage, and in this atmosphere of mint
gled Puritanism  and Federalism, in that intenser form  of
both which prevailed in Essex County near the close of the
last century, that Parker was born, their first and only child,
inheriting the powerful intellect, and the active and cheerful




12
temperament of his father, and at the same time something
of the physico-psychological infirmity, especially the electrical excitability of his mother, to whom he is said to have
borne a marked resemblance in the general cast of his features.
He was baptized when about a month old by the Rev.
Moses Parsons, then the pastor of the church in Byfield,
and the father of the celebrated Chief Justice Theophilus
Parsons. During his childhood he gave many indications
of that clearness and vigor of mind for which he was afterwards distinguished.  On one occasion, when only four
years old, having answered a questioA which had been put
to him with a wisdom above his years, and being asked who
told him that, he replied, I told mzyselfO  He exhibited, too,
even at this early period, many of those traits of personal
character, which became more conspicuous as he advanced
in life. He was remarkable, even then, for a certain constitutional timidity, and for great reserve in the expression of his feelings. Though he was known to have strong
affections, le never showed them in the ordinary way.
The studious tastes and peculiar temperament exhibited
by the boy, determined his father, though possessed of only
moderate means, to give him a liberal education; and he
sent him to prepare for college, to the famous Dummer
academy, which was situated in his native parish, on the
Newbury side, about two miles and a half from his residence. The Preceptor of the Academy at this time was
the Rev. Isaac Smith, who though esteemed inferior to his
immediate predecessor, the renowned and eccentric Master
Moody, as a disciplinarian and teacher of Latin and Greek,
was regarded as much his superior in general scholarship
and polite culture, having had the advantage of a residence
of several years in England, and of a large library which
he had collected there.  No institution could be better for




13
one who was disposed to improve, and such an one was
Parker Cleaveland.  Though living more than two miles
from the academy, he was always present in school hours,
generally walking the whole distance, though sometimes
having the privilege of riding the doctor's horse, when he
was absent from home on public business. It is, perhaps,
sufficient evidence of the student's good character and proficiency, that a warm friendship sprang up between him and
the master, and that a correspondence was maintained between them for many years after they were separated.
He entered Harvard College in 1795, before he was sixteen years old. An incident which occurred shortly after,
is illustrative of the humble style in which he made his first
appearance at this venerable seat of learning, and at the
same time, of his tact and good temper. He wore to college a poor felt hat, so unfashionable in form and color, as
to attract general notice.  There was soon a gathering of
students on the green, when one and another began to
jeer the freshman about his queer hat. At length it was
knocked offj; and kicked about without mercy. Its bareheaded owner, finding how things were going, joined in the
sport, laughing as loud and kicking as hard as any of them.
This exhibition of good nature insured his popularity. A
subscription was made on the spot, and he came out the
next day with a handsome new beaver.
The popularity which he thus early and cheaply purchased,
being sustained by his fine social qualities and his superior
talents, attended him through his whole college course. He
became the general favorite, and entered himself heartily
into the good fellowship to which he was so warmly welcomed. This state of things exposed him to many dangers
at a period when the prevailing spirit at Harvard, as well
as at other American colleges, was one of infidelity and
misrule.




14
Aware of the dangers by which his young friend was surrounded, his worthy pastor, Rev. Dr. Parish, addressed to
him, a few weeks after he entered college, the following words
of admonition.  "By writing, I hope to prove the continuance of that friendship I have always felt. Truly you have
my best wishes for your happiness.  Your genius, your
habit of application, insure literary acquisitions. You must
do violence to your own feelingDs not to be a scholar. Excuse my apprehensions, if I suggest that your religious
interests are more exposed, and men of sensibility are
disposed to conform to their associates. This amiable disposition is often a snare. Irreligious companions are dangerous. There is something like enchantment in the example
of those we admire.  Possibly you may hear sermons, and
sacraments, and sabbaths, treated with irreverence. Believe me, dear sir, a skeptic is a hapless being. Examine
religion for yourself; trust to no one else; then make a
sacred vow not to depart from the religion of your fathers
Your religious advantages have been distinguished.  Call
to mind the counsels of thy dear, departed mother. Prove
yourself worthy of -such counsels, of such a parent."
These godly counsels of his pastor were followed up a
few weeks later, by others in a similar strain ftiom his former teacher.  " A college life," writes Mr. Smith, d "will, I
hope, be agreeable to you, and unless your tastes and inclinations should greatly differ from what I have conceived of
them, it cannot be unprofitable.  You have appeared to me
to have naturally a considerable thirst for knowledge, and
will, therefore, value the opportunity and the means of gratifying it.  You have acquired, too, habits of industry which
I trust will rather increase than lessen, and than which
nothing canl be more favorable to your progress in science.
Indeed, I have no suspicion of your ever becoming an idle
fellow at college; and of course shall not trouble you with




any grave admonitions about the improvement of your time
there. ly principal fears are, lest your easy temper and
cheerful disposition should make your contemporaries too
fond of you, and induce theml to court your society oftener
than may be convenient.  I do not wish you to be a recluse,
but at all events, I would teach my classmates and companions at college that I must be master of my room  and my
time, and I would not allow of encroachmen ts on either too
frequently, or at improper hours.  They will respect yon
the more, when they see you resolved not to give way to
impertinent visits, but to keep the ends of your residence
at the seminary where you are placed in view, and steadily
pursuing them. Instead of onte, you have now a number of
preceptors; you wll, however, I know, behave to each of
them with dcenecy, and not allow yourself easily to entertain any little prejudices against any of them. They may
differ in some respects fronm one another, but will all of them
be willing to befriend you, and to give you proofs of their
esteem as long as you continue to merit it, which I flatter
myself will be the case while youl have any connection with
them."
To these faithful admonitions of his pastor and preeptor, indicating at the same time the good opinion they had
formed of him, and the deep interest they felt in his welfare, young Cleaveland appears to have given good heed.
Though he was led by his hligh spirits and social nature, to
mingle freely in scenes of pleasure, there is ample evidence
that he was never seduced into any neglect of his college
duties, into any conflict with the college authorities, or any
abandonment of the moral and religious principles in which
he had been educated. So constantly was he seen in society, and so seldom with a book in his hand, that his admirable appea:rance in the recitation room became a matter of
general wonder.  But it soon came to be understood, that




16
if, during the day and evening, he had indulged himself in
the society of his boon companions, he would retire at night
to his chamber, darken his window, and while supposed to
be asleep, would push his studies far into the morning.
So little place had the natural sciences at this time in the
college course, that he call hardly be said, while there, to
have laid the foundation of his future acquisitions in this
department.  He was, however, quite a proficient in Greek,
and his tutor in this department, the eccentric John Snelling
Popkin, is reported to have said, " that unless he himself
had got all his Greek roots well dug out before the recitation, there were two in his class, Joseph Dane and Parker
Cleaveland, who were sure to screw him to death."
For all his instructors he cherished a dutiful regfard, but
especially for Prof. Pearson, who was a townsman of his,
and who was always regarded by himl as his model, both as
a teacher and a disciplinarian. And it was probably under
the hand of this prince of critics, who made it his boast
that he had driven bombast out of the University, that his
admiring pupil formed that pure and simple style in which
he always spoke and wrote.
He was graduated in due course in 1799, enjoying the
reputation among his fellow-students, of being the best general scholar, and the man of most talent and promise, though
not bearing  off the highest honors of his class.
In his junior year he had taught school, in vacation, in
Boxford, and in his senior year, in Wilminigton.  After he
left college, lihe taught for a few months in Haverhill. From
thence, in March, 1800, he went to York in this State, where
he tauoht the Central town school for three years. In these
several engagements as schoolmaster, he exhibited the same
skill in teaching, the same strictness of discipline, the same
power to attach his pupils to himself and to awaken their
enthusiasm, which he displayed afterwards in the higher




17
spheres to which he -was called.  Years after this period,
the praises of master Cleayeland were spoken in these
places where he first taught; nor have they ceased to this
day to be heard.  One of his scholars in York, who is now
living, still descants with admiration upon his exceliencics
as a teacher, — the mingled fear and love with which he inspired his pupils, the perfect subjection in which he kept
tllhem in school, notwithstanding the familiarity witlh wThich
he indulged them  out of it, and the impression which he
produced upon their minds, that the town school under
his charge was far above every other institution in the place.
These testimonies fully confirm the account which hlie himself grave in a letter to his father, AiMarch 13, 18033, of the
sensation which was produced when he gave notice to the
selectmen of York, "' that he should dismiss his school the
fore part of April.o  "You cannot coincei ve," he iwirites,
"hllow difficult it is to get away.  They offer me everythling
One scholar told the selectm-nen they had better give three
hundred dollars a month. They say they had rather lose
their minister than their schoolmaster."  Such Awere tihe
humble, but auspicious beginnings of a career of teaching,
which extended through a period of sixty years, withlout a
sing'le year's intermission, and which was attended friom
first to last with the same hig'h and well-earned poplariity.
But notwithstanding' his eminent success in his first engagemnents in teaching, it does not seem  to have occurred
to his thoughts at this time, that this was the vocation to
which his life was to be devoted.  On his leavin( college, it
was his purpose to study law  and accordingly when lihe went
to -Haverhill to teacl, he at the same time entered his name
in the law-office of Ichabod Tucker, Esq.  He was doubtless confirmed in this purpose by a visit which he received
while at HI-averhill from his college friend, Joseph.  Story.
It is reported that on this occasion, they sat talking through
B




18
the live-long night. This may be easily credited of two
men so noted for the copia verborumnz, and it may also be
believed, that amid the flashes of genius and good humor
with which that night was illuminated, there may have been
some serious forecasting of their plans of life, in which the
mind of young Cleaveland may have received from  his
friend's eloquent advocacy, a new impulse in favor of the
law. However this may be, when he went to York, in pursuance of his original purpose, he engaged himself as assistant to Daniel Sewall, Esq., who was at that time Clerk
of the Courts and Register of Probate, and also village
Postmaster; and during his vacations, and at the intervals
of his school hours, gave his aid in those several offices.
In this capacity of assistant of Mr. Sewall. he sometimes
attended the courts when they were held in other places,
as well as in York, and was also occasionally engaged in
Justice business, according to tile privilege usually allowed
at that day to students of the profession, to enable them
to become familiar with the forms of practice~
But although he was thus engaged during the whole time
of his residence in York, his purpose of devoting himself
to the profession of law appears to have been shaken, soon
after lie went there, partly perhaps through some distaste for
the business, but more probably through the earnest desire
of his parents that he should study divinity.  To whatever
cause it may be traced, it is obvious that for more than two
years after he went to York, his mind was in a state of
painfil  doubt with regard to his future calling, and was distracted between the conflicting claims of law and divinity, -
the eloquent pleadings of Story, and the pious persuasions
of his parents, - the promptings of worldly ambition, and
the dictates of a conscience controlled by the principles of
his religious education.
In this state of uncertainty, he enjoyed the counsels of a




19
pastor, whose judgment was not warped by any professional bias, and who was only anxious that the decision to
which he should come, should be the deliberate result of his
own unbiased convictions.  With this object in view, Dr.
Parish proposed to him, in a letter dated March 22, 1801,
that he should pass the ensuing summer with Dro Emmons,
not as prejudgi-ng the question of his profession, but as affording him the best opportunity of coming to a right decision regarding it.  "I hope," he writes, " you are forming all
your plans with the idea of spending the summer with Dr.
Emmons.  Settle this sacred link in the chain of your calculations.  After answering the principal object had in view
by the school, let Dr. Emmons be the next object.  Let a
few months of your immortal existence be consecrated as
the still sabbath of your life.  There pause, ponder, reason,
judge, determine.  It will give a complexion to your future
existence. It may, I hope will be the basis of greater comfort, energy, and usefulness, whether it shall alter your professional object or not."
Mr. Cleaveland appears to have been prevented from
adopting this well-meant counsel, and frolm joining himself
to the train of pilgrimrns seeking wisdom at the lips of the
sagfe of Franklin, and accordingly from subjecting his life to
that decided complexion which it would probably have received from such a process.  But, meanwhile, he was vigor.
ously plied by domestic influences, which were all enlisted
on the side of the clerical profession. In this state of things
he received, after a year's interval, another letter from his
ever watchful pastor, dated March 18, 1802, in which, under
the apprehension that he might be unduly influenced by the
urgency of his friends, the arguments for the three professions were impartially weighed, and 1" the self-denial, the
mortifications, the discouragements, the disappointments of
the clergyman " were portrayed in colors so strong, that




20
they were understood by him at the time, though incorrectly, as designed to dissuade him  from  devoting himself to
the Christian ministry.
At length, after a careful consideration, the mind of Mfr.
Cleaveland seems to have inclined to a decision in favor of
the sacred office. Nor can it be doubted that in comning to
this decision he was influenced not only by the wishes of
those most dear to him, but also by those higher motives
derived from a personal and heartfelt conviction of the truth
of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, as held by
the foathers of New Engllad. 1
His decision to study for the ministry was soon understood amonog his friends in Byfield, and led to the following
friendly proposal from  his early teacher, the preceptor of
the academy:   " Till of late," writes lMr. Smith, (July 3,
1802), "' I was expecting to hear that you were about to enter on the practice of a profession for which I thought you
had been some time preparing.  But as I am told that yoU
now think of quitting the course of study in which you had
engaged, and serving your fellow creatures in a graver and
more serious line of life, I wish to know  whether it woulcl
be agreeable to you, in case this is your resolution, to accept
the place of assistant to me in the academy, after coinmencement.  The berth, I suppose, will then be vacant, and I
know of nobody I should be fonder of having in such a connection with me, than you.  The circumstance  of being at
home, or nearer to it than elsewhere, would, I presumne, be
some recommendation of the proposal, and I do not think
the situation would be an unfavorable one to you in the pursuit of your studies.  Some hours must necessarily be em1 Ample evidence of this appears in the full, though somewhat cofidential disclosures of his religious feelings and theological views, contcained in a
etter written by him to his father before he left York, and now in the hands
IOl Rev.e J. P. Cleaveland, D. D., of Lowell.




21
ployed in business, but you would have others to devote to
study and reflection.  I have books, you know, of a theological nature, as well as others, sufficient to aid you in your
preparation for a time; and the emoluments of the place,
though not very considerable, would be something in your
pocket."  IMr. Cleaveland did not accept this invitation, his
engag'eencut in York not having terminated until the spring
of 1803.  But in the summer of that year, being at home,
englaged probably in his theological studies, he took charge
of the academy for about six weeks, during the absence of
the preceptor, " confining his attention," as he writes to his
friend WV. B. Se wall, Esq., " almost entirely to the Hebrew, Latin and Greek, and French languages."  On finm
ishing this engagement, he made a short visit to York, to
assist 3Ir. Sewall while the courts were sitting; and another short visit to his uncle, Rev. John Cleaveland, of
North Wrentham,1 to place himself under his direction
in preparing for the ministry; and then returned to Byfield,
to pursue his studies at home, availing himself, for this purpose, of the library of the preceptor.
While he was thus engaged, he received, near the close of
October, 1803, information through President Willard, that
"'he was chosen tutor of Harvard College, to succeed AIr.
(Joseph) Emerson, in, the department of mathematics and
natural philosophy."  He promptly accepted this appointment, which brought him  back to his favorite employment
of teaching; and commenced Nor. 23d, with the instruction
of the senior class in Enfield.
The spirit with which he entered upon his new  duties
may be seen by an extract from a letter of his to his friend
Sewall, written about a month after he went to Cambridcle.
" The Freshmnen are my particular class. They appear to
I For some account of this excellent minister, see Panoplist, vol. xii.
p. 49.




22
be excellent fellows.  In general their size is small.  I intend they shall shine in scholarship and character. I already
begin to love them.  I have already formed a pleasant acquaintance with many of the students. It is not unpardonable for a student to sit down in my room, to converse with
freedom, to feel himself in the presence of a friend as well
as an officer.  Still, however, when I command they will,
they shall obey."9
His return to Cambridge, though regarded with some
solicitude by those of his friends who had hoped to see
him  soon ordained as a minister, was yet acquiesced in
by them on account of the advantages it would afford him
for the pursuit of theological study.  Dr. Parish thought
his tutorship eligible, as it gave him an opportunity, which
he had hardly enjoyed before, to make up his mind impartially upon his profession.  From the following letter written by Mr. Cleaveland to his York correspondent about a
month after he entered on his duties at Cambridge, it is obvious that, at that time, his mind remained firm in its preference of divinity, or certainly had not as yet experienced
any reaction in favor of the law.  " What are the moral
causes," he asks,'" why is it, that almost every young man
who has natural talents, or at least thinks he has, enlists
under the baniner of the law?  Is it degrading to devote
great talents to the immediate service of Him who gave
them? Is it degrading to study nature, and the will and operations of nature's God?  Does it benumb the talents to
employ them in the means of infinite knowledge and infinite
happiness?  On the other hand, to revolve in the little circle of common law practice, to compass sea and land to
proselyte one fee, however small, do employments like
these give play to the noblest energies of the mind?  Do
they extend the bounds of usefulness, of science, of religion?  Don't misunderstand me. I am  not attempting to




raise one pursuit upon the ruins of another. The science
of law is of infinite importance.  Its practice may display
every virtue,  My observations are confined to its present
state in society. If you answer, the drudgery mPnst be
done, I tell you, leave it to those who can do nothing else.
In order to be respectable in the practice of law, a man
must o'ertop thousands of his fellows who surround the fee
Inint, and pick at every cent as it drops.  In order to be
respectable, he must be honest, just, and virtuous.  But can
you preserve your integrity, and at the same time obtain
the custom of those who are most conversant in the law,
and whose business is the most lucrative?  I mean the oppressive, the vicious, the idle, the quarrelsome. You must,
in some degree, connive at their schemes, or refuse their
business, and thus deprive yourself of even a scanty pittance. I appeal to yourself.  Do not the employments of
attorney, in the lower branches of practice, tend to check
the general improvement of the mind and the enlargement
of the faculties, at least in every department except that of
the law? It is not pretended that the above evils take place
in every instance.  They are at least great dangers, which
a friend has seen, and of which he would give friendly information to a brother, that he might guard against the
event."'
It is equally obvious from  such remnants as have been
preserved of his correspondence with his pastor and his
uncle of Wrentham, that so late as the spring of 1804, he
continued still actively engaged in his preparations for the
Christian ministry.  In answer to a letter of his, askingg
advice how to prepare himself for the best discharge of the
duty of public prayer, he received a reply from Dr. Parish,
dated April 24, 1804, full of excellent counsel on this subject.  And in answer to a letter of his to his uncle, containing  mingled confessions for the past and promises for




24
the fut ure, he received a letter, dated April 17, 1804, indicating' at the same time what his professed purpose then
was, and that still some solicitude was felt lest this purpose
should be shakeon'I hope," his uncle writes, -' you steadlastly keep in view the important object you profess to be
in pursuit of. I trust the hours which are not employed in
your official and other necessary duties, are devoted to theological studies, and that you are daily making progress
therein.  You will feel the object to be of too much import.
ance to allow trifles to divert your attention froni it. If
your heart be engaged for Christ and his cause, the study
of that system, of truth which he has revealed to men, will
be exceeding pleasant and refreshing to your soul.  AI Ind
the farther you look into it, the more you will be deligfshted
wi th it.  3ivy dear friend, Christ has given you talents
which may be very useful in his kingdom, and he requires
you to occupy till he comes."
Irt was about this time that he made a public profession
of religion in the church in which he had been baptized.
The written relation of his religious experience then re,
quired by custom on such occasions, is said to lhave been
mark'ecd with his characteristic reserve on such subjects, and
to ihave been read, at his particular request, in his absence.
rut the honest purposes of his own mind, and the godly
admonitions of his uncle, appear to have been at length effectually, though insensibly, counteracted by the influences
acting upon hIim at the university.  That the influences at
that time ascendant at Harvard college, were unfavorable
to the stricter views in which he had been educated, will be
easily credited, when it is remnembered that his tutorship
occurred exactly at that critical period when the vacancies
in the Hollis professorship and the presidency, created by
the death of Prof. Tappan and President Willard, were
filled by the election of Dr. Ware and Prof. Webber; and




25
when it is remembered also that the master-spirits of the
circle into which he was then introduced, were men distinguished for good fellowship and high culture, and for their
honorable and successful efforts to revive and elevate the
literary spirit of the times; but also distinguished for their
opposition to the traditionary theology of New England~
T!ingling freely and on the best terms, in this genial society,
MIr. Cleaveland seems to have gradually lost his taste for
theological stndy, and to have diverged into the pursuits of
general literature.  At a meeting of the Phi Beta Kappa
Society, Aug. 30, 1804, he was appointed, in connection
with Dr. Kirkland and other literary celebrities, to superintend the production of the "'Literary iMxiscellany," a periodical which had been projected for two years, and was then
about to be issued.  To this periodical he contributed two
articles from his own pen, viz: a review of M orse's Gazetteer and of Darwin's Temple of Nature.  And so necessary were his labors considered to the success of the
fBiscellany, that his remnoval from Cambridge not long' after,
is mentioned as one of the reasons of its early demise.
Early in the spring of 1805, AMr. Cleaveland had determined to discontinue his tutorship at the close of his termi
of two years' service, and to enter without delay upon a
professional life.  Such, however, was the change of taste
which he had more recently undergone, that although  he
still remained loyal to the faith of his ancestors, lie could
no lo~nger contemplate the profession of divinity with satisfaction, and beg an to think seriously again of his earlier
choice of the law.  Finding the question of his profession
thus unexpectedly reopened, and wishing, perhaps, to share
with another the responsibility of deciding it, lie wrote
again for counsel to Dr. Parish, all the more readily, doubtless, because he expected fronom the tenor of his previous
counsels, that the advice which he would receive from that




26
quarter would be in accordance with his present inclinations.
But Dr. Parish was carefulf not to commit himself to a positive opinion. In his reply of April 30, 1805, after telling
him "' that his own mind had never been fully decided what
he ought to do, or ought not to do, notwithstanding his endeavors to hold him back from deciding too suddenly, tunder
the influence of those justly very dear to his heart; " and
" that his present embarrassment in public speaking decided
nothing, as that was a branch of mrechaniics, and neither
Tully nor Demosthenes could  declaim  in their first attempts; " he throws back upon him  the responsibility of
makling his own decision: "If thy heart be right, and thou
canst spontaneously adopt those habits necessary for a minister, I neither know, nor can conceive, that any unanswerable objection to the calling can be made."  From his uncle,
also, he received a letter referring back the decision of this
great question to himself: "I wish to have your talents
employed in the vineyard of the Lord, but you must judge
concerning your duty."
Left thus to his own judgments, and restrained as he was
by scruples honorable to his character fronz assuming a sacred office to which he did not feel himself to be called, he
gave his final decision in favor of the law; and as lie was
already well advanced in his preparation for this profession,
he expected to be admitted to the bar in the spring of the
following year.  In selecting a place for settlement as a
lawyer, his attention appears to have been directed to this
State, then the District of Maine, and to the region of the
Penobscot, and to the fair city which crowns the head of its
tide-waters, then just emerging from the wilderness.  In answer to the inquiries he was making for situations elioible
for a lawyer, he received a letter from HIon. David Sewall,
Judge of the Supreme Court in lMassachusetts, informing
him, that:' he himself had never been further east than Wis



27
casset, but that somehow he had conceived an idea, that the
Penobscot river was the most extensive in the District, and
that a situation near the head of the tide, as it is called, in
that river, would in some future period be a very considerable place of commerce; perhaps," he says, "in the vicinity
of Bangor, if I mistake not the name."
But while he was thus busy in rough-hewing his life's
ends, as best he could, a Divinity was shaping them to different issues. In the midst of these schemes, fluctuating
to and fro between two professions, to neither of which did
he feel any strong attraction, he received the appointment
of Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in
Bowdoin College.  This institution had been opened only
three years before, and had not yet celebrated its first Commencement. The business of looking up a candidate for
this important office was committed to Prof. John Abbot,
then the only professor in the college. He informs us,
1" that he proceeded with caution, and did not fix till he had
made very extensive inquiries, and was completely satisfied
where to fix; that he considered practical and social qualities as highly important, and that the answers to his inquiries
gave him full satisfaction on that point."  On his representations, Parker Cleaveland was chosen to this office, May
15, 1805, by the unanimous vote of both Boards.  The appointment was at first objected to by some of his friends
in Cambridge and the vicinity, on the ground, " that it was
wrong to attempt to deprive Harvard of so useful an instructor;" and it was acquiesced in by them only when they
were informed that he had before determined to leave Cambridge, and that " it would do much to raise the usefulness and
reputation of that infantile seminary to which he was called."
In the first instance, too, it was declined by Mr. Cleaveland,
on the ground, "that it would involve the sacrifice of the
profession which he had chosen, and the time which he had




spent in preparing for it.'  tie intimated, however, that the
invitation might have been accepted if it had happened a
year later, after he hadc been already admitted to the bar,
since in that case, "should he fail in his professorship, he
would have his profession to step into."  On this hint it
was suggested to himn by Professor Abbot, that his object
might be answered, either by accepting on the condition
that his personal attendance should not be required iuntil he
had been admitted to the bar, or by accepting unnconditionally, and taking out certificates of qualification as far as he
had proceeded in the law, and keeping them  for a future
occasion, which, however, he believed would never occur.
The latter alternative appears to have been adopted by 2ir.
Cleaveland, and his acceptance of his appointment was signified to the Boards at their annual meeting in September.
He was publicly inducted into office on the twenty-third of
October, 1805, being at that timne scarcely twenty-five years
old. He entered inmniediately upon the duties of his professorship, which he continued to discharge, without intermission, and with only slight modifications, from  that day
to the day of his death, a period of fifty-three years.
AVithin a year from the time of his arrival in Brunswick,
he had, with characteristic promptitude, married, and built
and begtun to occupy the house in which he continued to
live ever after.
Althouglh he was always faithful to the appropriate duties of his department, his attention does not seem  to
have been at first so strictly confined to them, as it came
to be in later years.  The finer tastes he had acquired
under the higher culture of Harvard, survived for a season the effects of transplanting,  and contributed much
both to the relief and embellishment of his earlier official labors.  During this period li he was accustomed, in his
leisure holurs to study the ancient classics, though without




29
mu1ch pains taking, to read the standard authors both i thel
Englishl and French literature, and to indulge himself freely
in various literary diversions, which were afterwards, either
from habit or on principle, rigorously proscribed by him.
Nor did he at this period wholly abjure the poetic faculty.
It is reported on good authority that, not long after he came
to Brunswick, an1 ode was written by him  for some public
occasion, which was set to music and sung.  And in proof
of this impeachment, Professor Cleaveland has been recently spokeln of by the late Professor Willard1, 1 an early firiend
and associate in the " Literary Miscellany," in telrms plainly
insin-uIating   an aberration of this nature,  " as one who had
showed, while he was in the rapid ascent to the Temple of
Famne through the rug'ged paths of physical science, that he
had not become estranged from Parnassus, and that his affections were not alienated from the Atuses, however rarely
he might have invoked their presence." 
His department, at the beginning, was simply that of
Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, as it had been estab.
lished at Harvard in 1727, and after that example, in the
different American colleges.  But in the absence of any instruction in Bowdoin College at that time in the otlher
branches of natural science, Professor Cleaveland began
iminediately to prepare himself to supply the deficiency;
and in the spring' term  of 1808, gave his first course of
lectures on chemistry and  mineralogy.  This voluntary
service was so well received, that a vote was passed at the
annual meeting of the Boards in September of that year,' o pay him two hundred dollars for the instructions he had
already given on chemistry and mineralogy, and to continue tihe same sum annually, So longl as lie should continue to
give lectures on those subjects." From that time, in addition
to the original designation of his office, he bore the title of
I In his Memoirs of Youth and Manhood, vol. ii. p. 147.




30
Lecturer in  Chemistry and  Mineralogy, until it was
changed in 1828, to that of Professor in these branches.
The lectures and their emoluments continued in unbroken
succession for half a century.
Among the early fruits of these scientific studies were
several papers written by him, recording certain meteorological, geological, and astronomical observations which he
had made in this region, which were published in the third
and fourth volumes of the Memoirs of the American Academy.
It seems to have been by accident, that his attention was
first turned to that branch of natural science in which he
earned his highest distinction.  The lumbermen of Brunswick had found difficulty in transporting their boards from
the upper mills to the landing pllace below.  In the construce
tion of a wooden aqueduct for the purpose of floating them
down, some excavation was necessary. As the blasting
proceeded, certain substances appeared which were new to
their eyes. They had opened a granite ledge of the very
coarsest sort.  There were large plates of mica, there were
fine quartz crystals, there were cubes of iron pyrites, which
looked like something very precious.  Had they really
stumbled upon diamonds and gold?  To answer this ques.
tion, they had no resort but to apply to the new  scientific
professor of the college, who was supposed to know everything.  But how  should he know, having never learned?
After examining a small treatise at the end of Chaptal's
Chemistry, the only work on the subject then in the library
(the identical work is still there), and failing to get any satisfactory information, he put up a box of the stones, labelled according to the best of his knowledge, and sent
them to his friend Dr. Dexter, then Professor of Chemistry
at Cambridge.   Not long after an answer arrived from
the Doctor, complimenting him on the correctness of his




31
arrangement and  description, and giving as much additional information as was possessed on the  subject of
mineralogy in the oldest and highest of our colleges fifty
years ago. This letter was accompanied by another small
box, containing some minerals in return for those that had
been sent.
This account is derived from an eye-witness, N. Cleaveland, Esq., of New  York, a cousin of the Professor, who
was then residing in his family as a pupil.  "I accompanied
him," says this gentleman, "in his first visit to the Falls,
and helped him bring home the first basket of stones that
he ever collected. I remember his earnest and often baf.
fled endeavors to determine the characters and names of
these rocks and stones.  I was with him, too, when he
opened the little package from  Prof. Dexter, and examined
its contents.  Great was the rapture with which he unrolled
and handled those tiny bits of marble and lava, brought
mostly, as their labels showed, from  distant and classic
shores."  " Such," he continues,  "was the origin of those collections and exchanges which at length built up the large and
valuable cabinet which now adorns the college walls.  And
thus accidentally, as it were, began that enthusiastic pursuit
of mineralogical knowledge which in a few years gave the
Bowdoin professor so high a place among the scientific celebrities of the time. It is certainly more than possible
that his mind would never have taken that turn, but for the
Topsham sluice-way excavation."
The occurrences referred to took place late in the year
180.  From this date, for many years, Mineralogy was his
ruling passion.  The rocks of Brunswick and its neighborhood were soon explored, and made tributary to his cabinet.
Nor did the mineral treasures of his native region long escape his scientific curiosity and rapacity. On his visits to
Byfield, the country, for miles around, was laid under contri



32
bution for specimens.  His half-brother, Rev. Dr. John P.
Cleaveland, was an eye-witness of these scientific explorations, and still lives to describe them.  "I helped him," he
says, "in breaking open several composite rocks in the
street wall opposite our own door, that he might get fresh
fractures.  I well remember, too, thle forenoon of a warm
day in the first week of June, in 1811 (nearly forty-eight
years ago), when he made his first visit to the Devil's Den
in Newbury.  This was a small cavity (you could not call
it a cavern) on the right of the old road from  Dummer
Academy to Newburyport, four miles from the house where
the Professor was borna  It had been visited once before
by a professor from Harvard, and once by some professor
from foreign parts; but its riches were reserved for my
brother's eye.  He returned to my father's house with one
or two candle-boxes filled; and my mother's kitchen was at
once turned into a laboratory, and the floor strewed with
friagments of every variety which the den had yielded.
Serpentine (both com mon and precious), greenstone (crystalline), pure hornblende, simple feldspar, asbestos and
amianthus (the Professor always kept up the distinction),
quartz (crystalized), black tourmaline or schorl, were a
part of that day's spoils.  No miser ever worshipped his
money as lie did these specimens.  MAany of them, which I
helped him reduce and pack up on that day, have long had
a place in French, German, and lRussian cabinets."
By researches such as these, in high-ways and by-ways,
and by the study of the few treatises on mineralogy, foreign and Americanl whiclh had appeared at that time, Prof.
Cleaveland prepared himself for the composition of his
great work on this science.  When he left college, as he
often remarked to his pupils, he did not know  that there
was more than one kind of rock in the world.  Nor was he
alone in this respect among his contemporaries.  While the
~~V~y~bL ar~ ~VUJ~V  ~lrrP0




33
intellectual sciences, and some branches of natural philosophy, had been cultivated among us with diligence and success, but little attention had at that time been paid to
Natural History; and no branch of Natural History had surf
fered such neglect, or had been left inll such obscurity, as
Mineralogy.  So little progress had been made in this science at thle beginning of the present century, that it is
stated on the best authority, to have been a matter of extreme difficulty to obtain even the names of the most comn
mon stones and minerals, or to find any one who could
identify even quartz, feldspar, or hornblende, among the
simple minerals, or granite, porphyry, or trap, among the
rocks. "We speak from  experience," says Prof. Silliman,
from whoim this statement is taken, " and well remember
with what impatient, and almost despairing curiosity, we
eyed the bleak and naked ridges that impended over the
valleys and plains that were the scenes of our youthful excursions.  In vain did we doubt that the glittering spangles
of mica, and the still more alluring brilliancy of pyrites,
gave assurance of the existence of the precious metals in
those substances; or that the cutting of glass by the garnet
or by quartz, proved that these minerals were the diamond;
but if they were iiot precious metals, and if they were not
diamonds, we in vain inquired of our companions, or even
our teachers, what they were."
A change for the better in the state of this science had,
doubtless, taken place within a few years before the publication of the work of Prof. Cleaveland.  Some able articles
on the subject had been written by Seybert of Philadelphia,
Mitchell of New  York, and Waterhouse of Cambridge.
Extensive and beautiful cabinets had been brought to this
country, by Dr. Bruce and Col. Gibbs. Courses of lectures on mineralogy had been recently established in several
of our colleges. A geological survey of the United States
G




34
lhad been made by 5Maclure; and a Journal of Mineralogy
had been established. But the effect of these measures had
been rather to excite a public curiosity, than to furnish the
means of gratifying it.  They created a want, which could
only be met by a thorough, systematic, and Amnerican treatise on mineralogy. The works of the great German and
French mineralogists had not yet been translated; and if
they had been, could not have supplied the information
which was wanted respecting our wide-spread and newly
opened American localities.  It was the good fortune of
Professor Cleaveland to furnish this needed work exactly
at the right juncture of circumstances.  His "Elementary
Treatise on Mineralogy and Geology" was published in
1816. A few years earlier or later, it migllt have met a
less flattering reception.  Appearing when it did, and being
such as it was, it was a perfect success, and placed the author at once in the front rank of living mineralogists.
The distinguishing merit of this work, in comparison with
those which preceded it, may be stated in few words. The
mineralogical world had been previously divided into two
principal schools, that of France and that of Germany. The
German school, at the head of which was the celebrated
Werner, regarded the external characters of minerals as
the proper basis both of description and classification. The
French school, at the head of which was the equally celebrated Abbe Haiiy, regarded the internal composition of
minerals, or their true nature as ascertained by chemical
analysis, or their crystalline structure including the prim.
itive form and integrant molecule, as the only proper basis
of a scientific arrangement and description. Prof. Cleaveland does not hesitate to say, with the French school, that
the true composition of minerals should be the basis of arrangement, so far as it is known; but that, when it is not
known, or until it becomes known, the external characters




35
may be provisionally employed for the purpose of classification; and further, that while minerals may be most scientifically arranged according to their internal composition,
they may be best described by their external characters. In
thus combining the excellencies of the French and German
schools, Prof. Cleaveland does not claim to be original.
He refers in his preface to Brongniart, as having effected
with good success the union of the descriptive language of
the one, and the scientific arrangement of the other. But
while his work was formed on the model of Brongniart, it
was executed in a manner entirely his own, and gives assurance of a master's hand. It not only placed the labors of
the great European mineralogists before the American publie in an accessible and attractive form, but by adding new
species and new localities, acquired an American character,
and did something to pay the debt of science which America was then owing to Europe.
The work was immediately noticed in terms of high commendation by the leading literary and scientific journals at
home and abroad. Silliman's Journal of Science and Arts
sums up a long and critical examination of its principles
and plan with the following generous and hearty eulogium:
" In our opinion, this work does honor to our country, and
will greatly promote the knowledge of mineralogy and geology, besides aiding in the great work of disseminating a
taste for science generally.  Our views of the plan have
already been detailed. The manner of execution is mas.
terly. Discrimination, perspicuity, judicious selection of
characters and facts, and a style chaste, manly, and comprehensive, are among the attributes of Professor Cleaveland's
performance. It has brought within the reach of the Amer.
ican student the excellencies of Kirwan, Jameson, Haiiy,
Brochant, Brongniart, and Werner; and we are not ashamed
to have this work compared with those of these celebrated




36
authors." The North American also, in closing a long review of the work, which is generally favorable, though making some exceptions to its principles of classification, takes
care " to express to the author the high sense it entertains
of the value of his scientific labors."  The Edinburgh Review, after commending the honest manner in which it is
printed, giving on a single page the matter which in England
would have been spread over three, expresses the wish that
it might be reprinted exactly on the plan of the original,
and adds: "' We have no doubt it would be found the most
useful work on mineralogy in our language."
Some conception may be formed of the interest excited
in scientific circles in Europe, by the unexpected appearance among them  of a treatise. on mineralogy from  the
New World, by the following extract from  a letter writ,
ten to Prof. Cleaveland from London (April 16, 1819),
by the Rev. John A. Vaughan, then resident in England.
"'Just after the appearance of your work," he writes,
" an American gentleman was sometime with Werner, and
so exhibited the design and character of the book and its
author, that the old man was quite cheered with the hope
of seeing some consolidated information on his favorite
topic from the western regions. It was promised to be
sent to him from England; but he died shortly after, before
his wish to see it was accomplished.  Mr. Humboldt, who
was in England, had a copy in his possession, and his impressions must have coincided with those of all the learned,
more especially as he took care not to return it to the Geological Society, of whom he borrowed it, and who felt not
a little bereft on that account, though another was given
them. Mir. Jamleson has expressed his opinion most favorably; and you have the Edinburgh Review for further testimony from the North (though that article, I believe, was
written by Mr. Brande).  Dr. Clarke, the Professor of




Mineralogy in the Cambridge University, and the noted
traveler, uses no other at his lectures, and recommends it
to all his hearers as the best. And further, the Geological
Society, and many private individuals, have formed or remodeled their collections upon your arrangement. I have
been thus particular not to flatter, or to reecho what you
have heard before, but that I may congratulate you on the
success of some years of hard labor, and that the work is
finding its level so muc(h sooner than that of many a great
mall before you. "
A second and enlarged edition of his work was published
in 1822, and was soon exhausted.  It had now become the
standard American authority inll this branch of science, and
was used as a text-book in all the colleges. A third edition
was soon demanded. But owing to causes which will appear in the sequel, the demand was unheeded, and the author
gradually yielded the commanding position he had gained,
and the pecuniary profits he might have reaped. He continued, however, to enjoy the most distinguished evidences
of the world-wide reputation which he had won. In honor
of his services in this department, his name was given to a
species of feldspar before known as albite, and also to a
compartment in the Mammot'h Cave in Kentucky, which is
reached through Silliman's Avenue, and which is described
as the elysium of the cave, fronm the marvelous beauty of
its forms of gypsum.  He received frequent and honorable
mention not only in the scientific journals, but in the works of
the most eminent savans of Europe, and amongo others from
the pen of G6the, at once poet and philosopher, in his cel.
ebrated "Theory of Colors."  He received letters of respect and congratulation from  Sir David Brewster, Sir
HInmphrey Davy, and Dr. MacCulloch in England, from
Berzelius of Stockholm, Germar of Halle, Brongniart, Baron Cuvier, and the Abbe Haiiy of Paris, with most of




- v
whom he corresponded for years.  He received visits of
personal friendship and regard from  Col. Gibbs, Godon,
MIaclure, and many others devoted to this  department
of science, and who brought from  the best schools in
Europe all that was then known of mineralogy.  lHe received diplomas of membership from  sixteen or more literarv and scientific societies, including those established
in the principal capitals of Europe.  He received offers
of professorships, more or less formal, and in some instances with offers of salary more thanl double his own,
from Harvard College in M assachusetts, from  Dartmouth
College in New Hampshire, from  the University of William  and Miary in Virginia, from  Princeton College in
New Jersey, from the College of Physicians and Surgeons
in New  York, and from  the University of Pennsylva.
nia.  At a later period, he received the compliment of an
appointment as Commissioner for the survey of the NorthEastern Boundary, from President Van Buren, and of Regent of the Smithsonian Institute, from President Pierce, —
the grateful tribute of an honored pupil.
Contemporaneously with this splendid career in mineralogy, Prof. Cleaveland acquired a high reputation by his
lectures onl chemistry.  These lectures, like those on mineralogy, were, as has been already stated, voluntarily undertaken by him, in addition to the prescribed duties of his
department, and were delivered for the first time in the
spring term of 1808.  In constructing his furnaces and procuring his apparatus, he was obliged, novice as he was, to
resort continually to the friendly advice and assistance of
Dr. Dexter, which here again, as before, were cheerfully
given. Notwithstanding the difficulties which he had to encounter, his reputation as a lecturer on chemistry had within ten years, extended far beyond the college walls. Long:




39
before the day of lyceums had begun, and at a time when
public lectures were asked only from  the ablest men, he
received urgent invitations from  distinguished citizens, to
deliver his course on chemistry in several of the principal
towns in M{aine and the adjoining States. He so far yielded to these requests, that in the winter vacations of 1818
and the two succeeding years, he delivered courses of lectures on chemistry in Hallowell, Portland, and Portsmouth.
But never after could he be induced, by any persuasions, to
deliver his lectures away from his own laboratory. Nor
will this be wondered at, when it is considered, that besides
the obstacles in his own mind which he had always to overcome before he could bring himself to leave home, it required in those days an ox-team  to transport his apparatus.  If we may judge from the accounts of some who were
present, never were lectures more successful than those
delivered by Prof. Cleaveland in these neighboring towns~
Though strictly scientific, they commanded large and delighted audiences, and became the general topic of conversation in every class of society. On the evenings when
there were no lectures, some social gathering was sure to
claim the distinguished professor, where he was sure to win
all hearts by his simple and unassuming manners, and his
free and cordial intercourse with all about him.
But notwithstanding this success, chemistry held a subordinate place in his estimation, in comparison with mineralogy, until the establishment of the Maine Medical School.
This took place in 1820, and Professor Cleaveland was
then appointed Professor of Chemistry and Materia Medica
in the School, having for the first year no assistant but Dr.
Nathan Smith of New Haven.  At the first meeting of the
MIedical Faculty, he was appointed its Secretary. Under
the first appointment, it became necessary for him to extend
his course of chemical instruction; under the second, to




40
assume the entire management of the internal affairs of the
School. The whole arrangement was eminently conducive
to the reputation and prosperity of the School,' but at the
same time, by the new and multiplied cares which it imposed
upon him, it presented an obstacle to his progress in what
had been hitherto his favorite science.  It was this more
than anything else, which rendered him deaf for so many
years to the entreaties of his friends and the clamors of
the public for a third edition of his Mineralogy, and which
turned his thoughts and efforts into new  directions.  He
did not now, perhaps, love Abraham  Werner less, but Nathan Smith more; and it was noticed, as something significant of the change, that at a christening which took place
in, Brunswick soon after the opening of the Medical School,
he gave to a son, who was to have been called after the
great German philosopher, the name of the great American
doctor.
From this time forward, his first thoughts and best endeavors were given to his chemical lectures. They were
delivered in the spring term, at two o'clock in the afternoon,
four days in the week, before an auditory composed of the
medical students and the two upper classes iln college.  After an early breakfast, it was his invariable custom, continued to the last years of his life, to go to his laboratory,
and employ the whole interveninog time in preparing for the
lecture of the day, laying out his topics, performing beforehand every experiment, and practicing every manipulation.
These preparations were interrupted only by the frugal repast sent to him from his house in a small basket, when the
dinner hour had arrived. In these preparations he always
had one or more assistants.  One of those who enjoyed this
prinilege has enabled us to get a glimpse of the philosopher behind the scenes, before the curtain was lifted.  No
where else, he assures us, was he so social. so commnunica



41
tive, so playful. The great business, indeed, of preparation
for the lecture, (and he made it a great one,) never slackened. But this did not prevent many amusing episodes,
with now and then a harmless practical joke.  It would be
not a little interesting, could we hear and compare the reminiscences of those forty or fifty men, who have, one after
another, assisted him in the preparations of that old laboratory. In one thing it may be presumed they would all
agree, that he never for a moment forgot the caution, which
Dr. Dexter took such needless pains to enforce upon him,
in his very first directions, "to be on his guard in making
gases, mixing them, and preparing explosive combinations."
When at length the hour of the lecture had arrived, and
the eager and punctual audience had assembled, and, after
seven minutes by the watch, the door was closed, and silence prevailed, and the Professor stood forth amidst his
batteries and retorts, master of his subject and of the
mighty agents he had to deal with, he was then indeed in
his element and in his glory. Though clad in garments almost rustic, he had a dignity of appearance and an air of
command, by which the eye of every student was kept fixed,
and all listlessness and inattention were banished.  His
stern and venerable features were lit up with a glow of genuine enthusiasm. Forgetful of himself, he became wholly
absorbed in his subject. He professed no great discoveries,
he propounded no new theories, he made no pedantic display of learning; but with the modesty of true wisdom,
aimed only to exhibit those certain facts and obvious inductions, which constitute the elements of his science. Having
clearly conceived of these, and having them  well arranged
in his own mind, he produced them in a clear and orderly
manner.  There was no confusion in his thoughts, and none
in his discourse. By his calm and simple style and its easy and uninterrupted flow, by his lucid order, by the earn



42
estness of his manner, by the interest with which he seemed
to regard the smallest and most common things pertaining
to his theme, by his happy illustrations and never-failing experiments, and by his occasional sallies of wit and good
humor, he carried along the delighted attention of his hearers without weariness to the end of his hour, making plain
to them what had been obscure, investing even trivial things,
by a salutary illusion, with an air of importance, and in
short, accomplishing, in a manner which has never been surpassed, the great object of conveyingl to the mind of the
learner, definite notions and useful knowledge on the subject under consideration. At the close of the lecture many
gathered around his table to hear the explanations he was
always ready to give to those that sought them. The afternoon had often far advanced before his lingering pupils had
dispersed, and his long day's work was over.
Such was Professor Cleaveland as a lecturer on chemistry.
It is in this capacity, more perhaps than in any other, that
he has been thought to have distanced all competition.  It
is in this capacity certainly, that all his peculiar excellencies
appeared to the best advantage.  And it is accordingly as
a lecturer on chemistry, that he has been for many years
principally distinguished, and that he will be most distinctly and gratefully remembered by his thousand admiring
pupils.
In this ardent pursuit of physical science,- and especially of
the two branches of mineralogy and chemistry, which began
as has been stated, soon after the Professor entered upon
his office, it soon came to pass that the mathematics were
supplanted, and ere long were left by him in charge of tutors. In accordance with this state of things, the title of
his office was changed in 1828 to that of Professor of
Chemistry, Mineralogy, and Natural Philosophy, and was
V  ~  -rL1~ V r C)) ~r~-~LI       ~  zn 




43
not afterwards altered.  It did not, however, fully exhibit
the extent of his official services.  In the department of
Natural Philosophy, he was relieved, indeed, in some of the
branches, by the adjunct professor, confining himself principally to astronomy; but on the other hand, in addition to
mineralogy, he taught most of the branches of Natural History.  While therefore one of his eulogists, the late Professor Sydney Willard, of Harvard College, has stated inadvertently, that the title of his professorship -was more
comprehensive than that of any similar professorship in
any of our colleges, he would have been justified in represellting that the actual services rendered by him, ranging
through the three great divisions of physical science, were
hardly equalled in their extent; and he is certainly correct
when he proceeds to say, "A that his labors corresponded to
the branches taught by him  in due proportion, and to as
great an extent, and to as thorough a treatment of them,
as could be compassed by an intellect active, searching, and
unerring, and an industry that never tired."
Besides his lectures, which came later in the day, he heard
recitations in these several departments, from the senior
class, at an early hour in the morning, every day in the
week, through the successive terms of the college year.  Inll
conducting these morning recitations, he exhibited many
marked and characteristic excellencies.  He always prepared himself the night before for his mornin( lesson, especially revolving in his mind as he was going to sleep (as he
recently informed a friend), such topics of instruction as he
might wish to give in addition to his text-book.  And when
the morning came, morning after morninyg, year in and year
out, his punctual feet crossed the threshold of the recitation room, at the appointed moment, with the regularity of
the planetary revolutions, alike in summer and in winter, in
fair weather and in foul, in health and in sickness. Present



44
ing himself thus before his classes, with this pains-taking
preparation, and with this more than military precision, he
was able to exact from them a corresponding attention to
study and regularity of attendance.  This he did with an
unsparing rigor, and at the same time without giving offence~
Though he did not much occupy himself with the general
discipline of the college, he kept up the discipline of his
own classes to the highest point, and gave no quarter to
any species of delinquency.
From this great amount of service, both in lectures and
recitations, and from the zeal and fidelity with which it was
rendered, he did not "bate one jot" as he advanced in
years.  And hence it followed, that though his fame as an
author has not been increased since the publication of his
Miineralogy, his reputation as a teacher of the elements of
science has been constantly. rising, and at length had become quite unrivaled.
This eminent success of Professor Cleaveland as a teacher, was owing, doubtless, in part, to the perfect mastery he
had acquired by patient study and long practice, il the department of instruction committed to his charge. But his
extensive knowledge of the physical sciences was rather a
necessary condition, than a proper cause of his succss as a
teacher.  Many well known instances might be mentioned
of men equal, or even superior to him in learning, who have
entirely failed in teaching. He succeeded where they failed,
because he had a mental constitution by which he was pe.
culiarly fitted for the vacation of a teacher.  His intellectual powers were of a high order, and such as would
have made him a marked man in either of the professions
between which he was so long balancing or in any other
sphere he might have chosen to occupy; but yet were particularly adapted to the sphere to which he was so early
called, and which he actually filled for so long a time. i His




45
mind was practical and even realistic in its turn, rather than
speculative; clear in perception, rather than profound in insight; strong in its grasp of great principles, rather than
acute and discriminating in analysis; better skilled in the
orderly arrangement of facts, and the plain statement of
laws, than in the deeper intuitions or higher generalizations
of science, - a constitution of mind better adapted to the
teaching, than to the discovery of truth, and to the teaching
of the physical, than of the metaphysical sciences.
It has been regretted by some, that he employed himself
so much in teaching, to the exclusion of original scientific
investigation, by which the boundaries of knowledge might
have been extended. But it is not by any means certain
that it was not best for his own reputation, and for the
cause of science, that he followed the bent of his own inclinations in this matter, and devoted himself more and
more exclusively to tohe business of teaching. It has been
regretted by others that his commanding talents were not
exercised at the bar or in the pulpit, or in some more conspicuous and influential position. But intellectually constituted as he was, a professorship of natural science was his
appropriate niche, in which his peculiar powers could be
most advantageously displayed, and most naturally, and
hence most successfully exercised.  And accordingly, no
sooner was he providentially placed in this position, than
he was for the first time at rest, and thought no more of
law or divinity.  It was a settlement for life.  And this
perfect adaptation to his allotted sphere, made him happy in
it.  There was never one to whom his official labors were
less a drudgery.  Though eminently a man of routine in all
his duties, there was nothing perfunctory in his manner of
discharging them.  His heart was in his work, and communicated a fresh glow of life to each of his successive courses
of instruction, even after so many repetitions, and kindled




46
a correspondingl glow of enthusiasm in each of his successive classes of students.
Thus far Professor Cleaveland has been exhibited as he
was in his official capacity.  He was hardly less admirable
in his personal character. Indeed, he could hardly have
been so great as a teacher, had he been less noble as a man.
MJfore even than his intellectual qualifications, did his personal and moral attributes contribute to secure to him  the
eminence which he gained, and the lasting popularity which
he enjoyed, in the vocation to which his life was devoted.
It may not perhaps be justly said of him, that he was seen
to the best advantage when he had put off the robes of office; but it may be truly affirmed, that he could not be ad.
equately estimated without being  seen in his personal
character and private life.
In his external appearance, and to a casual observer,
Professor Cleaveland was stern and austere; and on a sudden provocation, or any obtrusive impertinence, was sometimes passionate and violent.  But underlying these rugged
austerities on the surface of his character, and constantly
cropping out from beneath them, to use a term  of his own,
there was a large-hearted nature, an exhaustless vein of
kindly and generous feelings.  This essential goodness of
heart was often repressed and concealed by his constitution.
al reserve of manner; but not seldom did it break through
the outward crust, and diffuse over his features a benignant
expression, and give to the tones of his voice and to his manners a winning gentleness. It was manifested in his domestic relations, especially in the gentle courtesy with which he
always bore himself toward the worthy partner of his life.
It was manifested to his classes, in his friendly interest for
them, in his earnest desire for their improvement, and in
his frank and familiar intercourse with them out of the les



47
tnre-roomno   The social qualities he had shown in his tutor.
ship at Harvard, and which were so artlessly exhibited by
him in his letter to his friend Sewall, already quoted, were
among the reasons of his appointment at Bowdoin, and they
proved not less important to his usefulness and success than
had been anticipated.
These more genial traits of his character were often
shown in his intercourse with his friends and neighbors.
As he was seen by them in his more leisure hours in his
family or in his study, or in his more private occupations in
his laboratory or his garden, in classifying and arranging
his minerals and shells, in trailing and pruning his grape
vines, he exhibited such an unaffected simplicity and freedom of manners, such kindness of heart uncorroded by the
rancors of religious or political strife, such readiness to
communicate information, such cheerful good humor and
contentment, such gallant courtesy, too, in plucking for his
parting guests his fruits or his flowers, that they soon forgot the great teacher and philosopher, and thought only of
the man and the friend.
His goodness of heart appeared also in his relations to
the community in which he lived.  Though retired in his
habits, he felt a lively interest in the general welfare, and
until overburdened with official engagements, took an active
part in all measures for promoting the public good.  In
18 4 he delivered an address before " the Brunswick, Tops.
ham, and Harpswell Society for the Suppression of Intemperance," which was published by their request.  "To a
part of this audience," he says, in his exordium, "I must be
permitted to remark, quod hoc gettere dicendi amet vitne rationes super prohibuerunt."  In 1825, after the occurrence
of a fire in which the factory and a large part of the adjoining district were consumed, he interested himself in organizing a fire company, and was chosen its first commander.




48
Though he was then in the zenith of his fame, and had declined the most distinguished offices to which he was called
from abroad, he gladly accepted this village appointment,
and held it, to universal acceptance, for twenty years. It is
hardly necessary to say, that whenever a fire broke out, by
night or by day, he was always first on the ground, always
managed the hose-pipe, and always stood, when duty required, in the place of the greatest exposure.
In this connection, and with the good offset which is furnished by this exceptional bravery which he exhibited at
fires, it may be proper to advert to an idiosyncrasy of the
Professor too well known, and at the same time too little
understood, to be passed over in silence,- his general and
excessive timidity. The stories which have been current
for the last fifty years in regard to his fear of lightning,
however apparently incredible, are yet substantially certified by the concurrent testimony of those who have knowvn
him most intimately.  It is related by persons who were
inmates of his house in the early period of his residence
in Brunswick, that during' a thunder storm it was his vont
to lie on a feather bed, taking care that the bed-stead should
be removed to a good distance from the wall, and that a
rising cloud which gave signs of being charged with elec.
tricity, had in some cases kept him from his recitation room,
in others driven him home from college or from  church in
the midst of the services, and that it was not until his house
was well protected by two lightning-rods, that he was able
on such occasions to maintain any tolerable tranquillity.But it was not in regard to lightning only that he was a
timid man. It would seem, indeed, difficult to say in what
respects he was otherwise, judging from  the following account of the matter from the graphic pen of a friend and
relative, so often quoted. "His cautionary bump, originally
large, stood out more and more, as he grew  older. The




49
idea of danger was an ever present one.  Did he hear a
dog bark on the other side of the square, his cane was instantly raised and shaken. Did the wind blow a little
freshly, his throat and chin were forthwith protected by a
bandanna.  He never pricked a finger, without apprehensions of the lock-jaw.  Under a terror of this kind, I Once
saw him  resort to a powerful prophylactic, which soon
proved to the satisfaction of all present, that his jaws were
limber enough.  The slightest indisposition in his family
alarmed him, and the doctor was immediately summoned.
It was this extremity of caution, which prevented him from
traveling, and finally circumscribed his motions within a few
miles from his own door.  Long before the stage-coach was
supplanted by the railway car, it had become too dangerous
a vehicle for him.  His last journey to Boston, now some
twenty years back, was made in a one-horse chaise.  It is
no wonder that he never repeated the experiment, obliged
as he was on that occasion, to make a tedious detour through
the upper counties, to avoid the long and dangerous bridges
on the lower route."
With regard to this singular infirmity, which appears to
have been a very serious matter to the Professor, though
it was an occasion to others of many a smile at his expense,
there can be no doubt, that it had its seat in his physical,
rather than in his moral nature.  It has already been stated,
that he inherited from his mother a physical temperament
highly excitable, and keenly sensitive to electrical influences.
This temperament was exhibited by him in early life, and
was no doubt born  with him.  So far as his fear of
lightning is concerned, it appears to have been much less an
apprehension of danger, than an uncontrollable nervous excitement. A friend who was occasionally with him during
a thunder-shower has stated, that he had seen others more
afraid at such times, but none so terribly excited.  The
I?




50
phenomena exhibited by him  on these occasions were apparently as purely physical, as the cause by which they were
produced, and as much beyond his control as the stormcloud rolling over his head.
Another marked characteristic of Professor Cleaveland
which deserves a passing notice, was his aversion to change,
his attachment to a settled routine, his tenacity of the ways
to which he had become wonted, in short, his intense conservatism of character.  Each duty of the day, from his rising
up in the morning, to his lying down at night, had its allotted
time and place; and the pleasure with which it was performed by him, seemed to depend very much upon its occurring
when and where it belonged in tthe chain of events.  He
loved to walk in his own beaten path, and thanked no one
for attempting to turn him aside from it. Any proposed
change from this established routine was in his view pre.
sumptively a change for the worse, and was condemned even
before it had been considered.  This unvarying order, even
in matters occurring only once in a year, was insisted on by
him most rigorously in the affairs of the Medical School,
where he had his own way.  On a fixed time every year he
gave a list of the Maedical class to the printer for the spring
catalogue, and could be induced by no persuasion to anticipate this time, no, not by a single hour. When a petition
was recently presented to him by a member of the Medical
class for a change inl the time of the examination, it was let
fall from his hand with an expression of astonishment at
the presumption of the act, which will not soon be forgotten.
On Commencement mornings he joined the procession to
the church at nearly the same spot every year, and thereupon, as Secretary of the Medical Faculty, formally presented
to the President a list, already latinized, of candidates for
degrees in medicine. - To a college man, such as he was,
Commencement day was, like Easter to the Churchman, the




point by which the calendar was arranged, and from which
the whole year was unfolded. If that was unsettled, everything was deranged. Nothing accordingly could, in his view,
be more portentous of evil, than any project to move it out
of its place.  And when, in the progress of things, such a
project came to be entertained, it was regarded by him as
a measure not only revolutionary but destructive, and as involving the whole question between a cosmic order and
chaotic confusion.  In advancing such a project, the spirit
of innovation had, in his view, reached a point at which patience ceased to be a virtue, and where, if anywhere, resistance should be made.  The project accordingly encountered,
from its first inception, through all its stages, his determined
opposition. And after it had been adopted, in the wisdom
of the Boards, he never ceased to regard it as a well-nigh
fatal blow to the best interests of the college, and to send
in, year by year, his earnest remonstrance against it. And
he was half disposed to consider the rains which, for several years after the change, fell so heavily on the first Wednesday in August, as providentially sent, to mark that day as a
dies infausta, and to aid him in his efforts to restore Commencement to its old and proper place. - But if this conservatism of his nature was sometimes carried so far as to
withstand real improvements, this effect was more than
compensated by the steady and effectual resistance it offered
to pernicious innovations. It is owing very much to his
persistent adherence to the old college system, as he found
it at Harvard, and as he brought it with him  from thence,
that Bowdoin College has been able effectually to withstand
the spirit of change at some points, where some other colleges have yielded, it may be to their hurt.
But no proper estimate can be formed of Professor
Cleaveland's character without taking into view its moral
and religious elements.  These, though its least obtrusive,




52
were its most controlling principles.  There are few men
in whom the sense of duty has been higher or more active,
or whose lives have been more strictly governed by it.  It
was his great endeavor, in every condition of life, and especially in his official relations, to be found faithful. He
felt in an unusual degree the obligations by which the teacher is bound to give his best services to the student, and
strove as few have done, to fulfil those obligations in their
fullest extent.  Never was official fidelity more perfectly
exemplified. He doubtless performed the work to which
he was called, and for which he was so well fitted, from a
love for the work itself, from a love of action and of reputation, from a love of office and its emoluments, from  the
force of habit, and all the common and legitimate motives
by which one follows his vocation; but there could always
be seen mingling with these, and subordinating them  to itself, a conscientious regard to his official obligations.  His
habitual and cheerful self-denial, his constant sacrifice of
personal ease and comfort, his careful husbandry of time
in which even the fragments were gathered up, his stern
disallowance of all light reading and unnecessary recreation, his midnight toils, his careful preparation for his recitations and lectures, his punctual and never-failing attendance
upon them, and the earnestness which he carried into them,
were all inspired and ennobled by his sense of official duty.
This, perhaps, more than any other principle, was the deep.
est spring, and the crowning excellence of his character.
Nor was the sense of duty in him a mere ethical sentiment, with no source or sanction higher than itself.  On the
contrary, it sprung from his religious convictions.  In every
relation and in his whole work of life, he regarded himself
as stan(ling in his great Taskmaster's eye, and as accountable first of all to Him; and he strove most of all so to
act as to merit His approbation. Through his constitutional




53
reserve he gave little utterance to these religious convictions.  But there is good reason for thinking, that with
regard to them he did not feel less, than many who profess
more.  Though to a singular and excessive degree he made
his reliaion anl affair between himself and his Maker, no one
who knew him ever doubted, that he was a devout man and
a sincere Christian. Instructed by his venerated father in
that system of doctrine whichl had been established in NewEngland by its Puritan founders, and had been revived by
Mr. Whitefield and his coadjutors, he had never swerved
from it.  While he was eminently tolerant of those who
differed from him in the articles of the Christian faith, and
opposed to every species of theological dogmatism, he kept
no terms with infidelity, either in its grosser or more refined forms. Baptizedin his infancy, and admitted to the
church in full communion in his early manhood, he walked
blameless in all its ordinances through a long life.  His religious duties on Sundays and week days, were discharged
by him with the same precision, regularity, and order, which
were exhibited in his secular affairs.  His Sundays were
kept after the Puritan manner, and with a routine appropriate to themselves.  On this day he banished himself from
his study, and interdicted to himself all his ordinary occupations.  After the public services, he might always be
found in his parlor, with his family, when and where he al.ways read the Christian Mirror and the Aissionary HIerald,
which he had taken from  the beginning.  On week days,
after his imorning recitation, he attended family prayers, and
after breakfast spent a short season in private devotion,
before entering  on the business of the day.  On these occasions, lihe took his Bible and Scott's Commentary from  the
place where they were always kept on his shelves, and read
in order the allotted portion of the day.  The same copy
was used by him for forty-eight years, and judging from its




54
well-worn covers and leaves, must have been read by him
through and through.  The last chapter which he read in
course just before his death, was the seventh of Exodus;
the last psalm, the one hundred and nineteenth, from  the
seventy-third to the eightieth verses, closing with the words,
"Let my heart be sound in thy statutes, that I be not
ashamedl."
Passing as he did from  these seasons of devotion, in
which he sat in a child-like spirit at the feet of the Divine
Oracles, and carryling the savor of them with him into his
scientific pursuits, it was proved in his case, as in so many
others, that " it is the aroma of religion which keeps science
from corrupting."  The natural tendency of science to become vainly puffed up ventuosis syniptovmatibus, and to take
an infidel direction, was effectually counteracted in him by
his reverence for the Holy Scriptures.  No sooner did the
course of speculation in any department of science begin
to run counter to the plain teaching of the Bible, than he
began to grow cautious and distrustful; and when it came
to an open breach between science and Revelation, lie was
always found firmly enlisted for Revelation, in company
with all those, whose hearts, like his, were " sound in the
Divine Statutes." This was especially apparent in the department of geology.  At an early period, he had enmbraced
warmly the Neptunian theory of his great master, Abrahlaml
Werner.  He afterwards seemed more inclined to adopt
the Plutonian theory. But when he saw that these theories, and their later modifications, were advanced with an
undue confidence, and that they were assuming an attitude hostile to Revelation, he withheld assent frot them
all. He went so far in his efforts to keep clear of the theories, while teaching the facts of geology, that he would
say in his lectures, that a rock enclosed a vein of feldspar,
rather than was traversed or peiforated by it, preferring a




term by which the phenomena were simply described, without suggesting any theory as to the order or the manner of
their existence.  In answer to some questions addressed
to him on this subject by his brother, Rev. Dr. Cleaveland,
he replied emphatically, " that he did not believe that facts
enough  had been ascertained to warrant the sweeping' generalizations of modern geologists; that the more his knowledge of the facts of the science increased, the less confidence
had lie in any of the theories; and that, for his own part,
he was ready to subscribe to what Baron Cuvier had said
to him in his last letter, that every added fact in geology
increased his confidence in the Mosaic account of the creaation, taken in its true and obvious acceptation."
It only remains to speak of the closing scenes of the life
of this veteran and venerable teacher. It is appointed
to all men once to die; but to some men, favored beyond
the common lot, death comes at a time and in a way so fitting to the tenor of their lives, that it seems rather a consummation to be wished, than an evil to be deprecated: and
so it came to him.  Between the close of life's active services, and the final rest of death, there often intervenes a
dreary season of infirmity and decrepitude, in which the
vital flame flickers faintly in its socket, before it goes out.
The old man often lives to witness the wreck of his powers,
and to see himself laid away on the shelf, long before lie is
laid in his grave.  From  such a fate, which to him would
have been more dreadful than death itself, he was happily
exempted.  Until within a few weeks before his death, his
mental and physical powers were in such full and healthful
action, that he seemed to have taken a new lease of life,
and to have entered upon a new cycle of service.  At that
time, near the beginning of the last college year, in September, 1858, some unfavorable symptoms began to appear.




56
These, though not very alarming, would probably have been
considered by almost any other person in his place, as tokens that his work was done, and his end was at hand; and
might most reasonably have been urged by him as a plea
for a suspension of his labors, if not a release from them.
His years, by reason of strength, were now  almost fourscore.  All those who lhad been associated with hinm when
he entered on his office, had long since gone to their rest.
He had already accomplished a work of which no man need
have been ashamed.  And now, having stood so long at his
post, he might have justly construed his incipient infirmities
as signals for retreat; and laying down his armns in an honora
ble surrender, might have enrolled himself among, the nuilites
emeriti.  But such a thought does not seem to have occurred
to his mind; and had it occurred, would not have been for a
moment entertained.  Having entered on another years'
course of instruction, he insisted on pursuing it, notwithstanding the friendly remonstrances and warnings which he
received.  Day by day, for several weeks, this aged man was
seen as aforetime, walkingo over to his laboratory in the
dusk of the morning, to hear his recitation, although by this
time his disease had become so far developed, that he was
obliged to stop several times on the -way, to rest hinmself
and get breath.  In a few days more, his limbs having be.
colle swollen, and his chest suffused, and his sight being
almost gone, it was no longer possible for him to walk, and
he was conveyed over in his chaise, consenting at the same
time, though with much reluctance, that during his illness
the exercise should be postponed till nine o'clock. And
when it appeared, as it soon did, that even with these
reliefs, he could not hear his recitation through, he still
insisted upon hearing it as far as he could.  The day before his death he had been absolutely unable to meet his
class. But in the afternoon he drove out, hoping to recruit




57
sufficiently to resume his duty the next morning. Meeting
him at this time, I implored him in the name of his associates and of his class, to give himself the relief he so much
needed. He replied, with great feeling, and they were the
last words I heard him speak, that there had not been an
absence in his class since he had been ill, and that he should
not be absent himself if he could help it. And accordingly,
the next morning, which was Friday, the fifteenth of October, having slept better than usual, and eaten his breakfast
with better appetite, he was getting ready to go to his recitation, when, at a few minutes after eight o'clock, his discharge came from the only Power from  whom he would
accept it.  Until this summons reached him, his work was
not even suspended. He ceased from his labors only when
he ceased to breathe. He died with the harness on. He had
reached an age beyond the common limits of human life,
but had not survived his usefulness by an hour. He stood to
the last at the post of duty, with his loins girded about, and
his lamp trimmed and burning, and may well be believed to
have inherited the blessing pronounced upon that servant,
whom his Lord when he cometh shall find so doing.
The funeral took place on the forenoon of the Tuesday
following. It was the loveliest day of the season, and all
the air, even during the busy morning' hours, " a solemn stillness held;" while the fading tints and falling leaves of autumn, spoke affectingly to the heart of the passing glory of
the world, - these gentle voices of Nature sweetly chiming
in with the harsher accents of God's holy providence.
The mortal remains were carried to the village church,
and rested there for a brief hour, while the Scriptures were
read, the prayer offered, the eulogy pronounced, the dirge
sung, and then were borne away to their last resting-place.
The occasion was surrounded with an unwonted profuision of all the outward symbols of public respect and sor



58
row; and nothing was omitted which taste or feeling could
suggest to add to its impressiveness and solemnity. But it
was most honored by what was least displayed, - the awed
and reverent aspect, the hushed stillness, the suppressed
emotion, with which the services were attended by all classes of the vast concourse assembled from  far and near,
and especially by the students of the college, to whom, as
chief mourners, the chief place in these solemnities was
justly assigned.  As the revered form  of one who had
been so long a pillar of strength to the college, lay prostrate before them, their heads were bowed under the sense
of an irreparable loss. As his great career, filled out to
his last hour with useful and honorable service, passed in
review before them, the righteous verdict sprung unbidden
to every lip, "Well done, good and faithful servant."  Nor
was there wanting the costly tribute of tears, wrung from
many a manly heart, to wash his way-worn feet for his burial.  But when they had taken their last look of his venerable features at the grave, and all was over, they went their
way, sorrowing indeed that they should see his face no
more, but still rejoicing in the rich inheritance they possessed in his name and his example.




R E SO L U TION  S
The following Resolutionsvwere offered by Hon. Charles S. Daveis, LL. D. 
at a meeting of the Alumni held in Portland, on the Monday after the
death of Professor Cleaveland, and were adopted by them.
RESOLVED, That the alumni of Bowdoin College in this place, as they will
everywhere, learn with lively sensibility and regret the late sudden death
of Professor Cleaveland, and meet to manifest our regard and attachment
for his virtues, and testify our respect to his memory.
RESOLVED, That having finished his earthly course in the fulness of his
years, his faculties, and fame, it may become us less to lament a loss, which
with all his constitutional vigor and vitality might not have been long postponed - than it may behoove us to acknowledge the hand of a benignant
Providence which has preserved his days hitherto, and has prolonged the
strength and activity of his mind to such a remarkable term among us,
shedding lustre upon the cause of science in the community where we live,
and abroad throughout the world.
RESOLVED, That while we recognize in him the almost sole connecting
link with a bygone age, the friends of learning and original generous patrons of this institution, especially its early governors and instructors; and
while he has been particularly a bond of union and attraction among the
successive graduating classes from its first Commencement —his high desert to all our minds is as the old and faithful servant of the college in his
own peculiar sphere, which he has so much adorned by his genius, enriched
by his labors, and distinguished by the splendor of his name and attainments.
His was an eminent and conspicuous position -a light steady, clear, and
refulgent, always to be seen in its true place, with polar directness and con



60
stancy, beaming forth with unfailing and undeviating radiance, and replying
to every call of duty and responsibility. To discriminate and do justice to
his varied talents in all their detailed applications, assigned and assumed,
might demand an analysis, scarce less varied and happy than his own.
It was his singular felicity to inspire a pride and awaken an admiration and
enthusiasm  in the pursuit of his favorite branches of study and science,
which produced a gathering interest about the institution, redounding no
less to its advantage than reflecting credit on all associated in its administration and instruction.
The mastesr of those departments of natural science which he most cultivated, so far as the limits of life and human faculty would allow, he was no
less successful as an author than as a pioneer and experimenter, and he excelled alike in the lyceum, the laboratory, and the lecture room.  With an
uncommon command of powers the most apt for such a province -gifted
with extraordinary ease and tact in imparting or extracting informationaided by the mathematical and almost military exactitude and precision of
the teachings which he inculcated, and enforced no less by his example
— blencted also sith those kindly, genial, and social qualities by which he
was endeared to the youthful circle constantly formed around him, he was
equally reverenced as a faithful instructor, guide, and friend.
RESOLVED, That there are those, and they are many among us, who well
remember the period, when crowned with the laurels of his growing renown,
he resisted the superior inducements held out to draw him hence, and when
he resolved to abide in his former chosen lot, and to devote the best and
last of his days to the office in which he was engaged; a resolution to which
he held, with characteristic truth and fidelity to the classic precept —
" Se.rvetzr ad imunz
Qualis ab incepto - et sibi constet."
RESOLVED ALSO, That to the weight and influence of his character, and
the prestige of his wide-spread celebrity, we are largely indebted for sustaining the College in a period of doubt and depression in its fortunes and
prospects, when the favor of the parent community was withdrawn from us
by our separation from the ancient Commonwealth; and when, moreover, to
the same, if not more than any other prevailing cause, we owe the benevolent establishment of the Medical School as a department of scientific instruction, second to no other branch of special skillful education, the prosperity of which has been maintained with such incessant assiduity by his devoted services; and which will stand a monument to his merit, without im



61
pairing the sensible value of his general service to the mother institution,
or materially preventing the prosecution of those other active, or more
silent scientific labors in which he was so long occupied.
RESOLVED, That at the close of so long a career, and having set his seal
upon some of the most important departments for the advancement of
scientific knowledge and the good of human life, we bow in reverent submission to the merciful dispensation which brings so gentle and peaceful
a release.
FUURTIIER RESOLVED, That these proceedings be communicated to the
Academical Government, and the family of the venerated departed Professor at Brunswick, and to our brothers there assembled, with whom we will
unite in any services appropriate to the funeral occasion, as a body, and follow the remains to the grave.
The same resolutions were afterwards united in by the graduates assembled on the day of the funeral at Birumnswickl   and carried into observance
on the occasionr