A,.         3      A
3 v9v0150486 1464
HISTORICAL DISCOU RSE,
BY
REV. JOHN WHEELER, D. D.9
AN ADDRESS9
BY
JAMES  R. SPALIING, ESQ,,
AND
A POEiM,
BY REV. 0. G. WHEELER,
D]ELIYERED ON THIE OCCASION OF TllHE
itmiudentcnriaI 3n bbcrsart
OF THE
UNIYERSITY  OF VERMONT,
WITH
AN ACCOUNT OF THE PROCEEDINGS AT THE CELEBRATION,
BURLINGTON,
FREE PRESS P R I NT,
IL$~~~i~~ 31854.








HISTO1RICAL DISCOURSE,
BY
REV'. JOHN WHEELER, D..,
AN ADDRESS,
BY
JAMES PR, SPALDING, ESf,,
AND
A POEM,
BY REV. 0. G. WHEELER,
DELIVERED ON THE OCCASION OF THE
emndgentenniait -nniberswnk
OF THE
UNIVERSITY  OF VERMONT,
WITH
AN ACCOUNT OF THE PROCEEDINGS AT TIlE CELEBRATION.
BURLINGTON,
FREE PRESS PR IN T,
1854.








HISTO RICAL  DIS COI RSE,
BY
REV. JOHN WHEELER, D. D.,
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNI'VERSITY OF VERMONT.








HISTORICAL  DISCOIURSE,
At Windsor, July 2d 1777, a Convention of Delegates, from the
several Towns in what was then called the New Hampshire Grants,
assembled. At this gathering, a Constitution for the political organization of the State of Vermont, was presented, read, discussed and
adopted.  One section of this instrument declares, that 1" a school or
schools shall be established in each town, by the Legislature, for the
convenient instruction of youth; * * " * and one Grammar school,
in each County; and one University in this State ought to be established by direction of the General c.ssembly."
Thus amid the throes of our Revolutionary struggle, and amid the
more distracting fears from the utter insecurity of all titles to estates
and property of any kind, which issued from the conflicting claims of
New York and New Hampshire, there burst forth, not only a conception of the highest rights, and the best interests of humanity, but a
clear and definite form of how they could be realized, and how perfected, in a free and risingCommonwealth.
It was the birth of a State springing, at a leap, from chaotic confusion into a life of law, and of order.  It presents perhaps, the most
remarkable instance, in the history of the Anglo-Saxon race, of the
organific power of the idea of freedom as it exists, in this variety of the
human family.  The other States of the Confederacy had a historic
origin. They began in charters, in plantation regulations, in religious
forms, in commercial laws, but Vermont was almost without any of
these, and indeed stood in battling hostility against some of them; and
yet she was so instinct with the living energy of a State, so full of the




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE~
vital blood of a vigorous Commonwealth, that, at her very birth, we see
her "' mewing her mighty youth5 shaking her invincible locks," girding
uap her loins, seizing her spear and demanding independent position
among nations, and insisting that s5he could, and that she would, both
by law and order and arms, mnale good her demands, And she did soo
This was in 1777.  As soon as the Constitution was adopted, the
people hurried away to defend the northern, and the western frontiers.
Two years after, in 1779, the first charters of townships were granted by the auithority of the State of Vermont.  In each of these, one
Right of land, about 320 acres, was reserved " for the use of a Seminary or College." This amounted, iaL the aGgregate, to about 30,000
acres; and was located in the most unsettled portions of the State 
viz. in the northerly part, and in the more mountainous portions of thile
central and southern parts.
The Charter of Dartmouth College was granted in 1779, and its
location at Hanover N. H. had respect to accommodating the prospective wants of the Eastern part, if not the whole, of what afterwards became Vermont.  So prevalent was this idea in Vermont
itself, that the grant of a township of land was made to Dartmouth
CoIlege in 1785.  This led to discussions, which revealed more and
more the importance of completing the institutions of civilization and
of culture within the borders of our own political organization.
At the October Session of the Legislaturey at Windsor, the same year.
the Hon. Elijah Paine, of Williamstown, presented a memorial offering to give ~2000 for the erection of buildings &c., if the Legislature
WVould charter a College, locate it at WVilliamstown, and sequester the
p'ublic lands for its use.  This was referred to a Committee, which
did not report until 1787; and then adversely.  They deemed it inexpedient as yet, "I to fix upon any particular town or county in which a
College or University should be erected," because of the present
sparseness of the population.*
At the meeting of the Legislature, at WVestmrinster, October 1789,
Hon. Tra Allen of Colchester, presented a memorial urging the importan'ce of founding a College for various reasons, and suggesting Burlington as a suitable place for it.  Besides other considerations, he
spoke of its suitable distance from Dartmouth College, its being on
the great lines of travel leading to Northern New York, and to Canada,
as well as accessible to the the population of Vermont.  To secure
tHistory of the University of Vermont. Quart. Register Vol. XIII, p. 395. A very
sarefully prepared and instructive, but inoomplete, artsle by Prof, Geogo'W~ EBnediat~i




HISTORICAL DISCOURSEJ                         7
so important an object, he offered to the public four thousand pounds,
if the Legislature would charter a University, and 1 locate it within
two miles of Burlington Bay." To this was added other subscriptions to the' amount of one thousand six hzundred and fifty pounds,
making a total of five thousand six hundred and fifty pounds.  One
thousand of this was to be paid in land for the College site; one
thousand in provisions, labor, and materials for the erection of buildings; and three thousand in lands, the annual rental of which should be
six per cent on three thousand pounds.*
This memorial was presented, October 15th, to the Grand Committee, that is, the Joint Assembly, as it is now called, viz. the Governor
and Council together with the General Assembly.  After discussion,
the Committee reported the following resolutions to the House.
"Resolved, That it be recommended to the Legislature to appoint a conmittee to draft a plan for a constitution and government of a College to be established in this State, and make report, as soon as may be.
Resolved, that it be recommended to the Legislature to take measures for
fixing on the place for erecting a College during the present session."
Under the first resolution, Nathaniel Chipman, Israel Smith, Elijah
Paine, Samuel Hitchcock and Stephen Jacob, Esquires, were appointed a committee to join one from the Council.
The second resolution led to a long debate.  It was desired, that
the question of location should be thrown open for other places; and
a committee of seven, one from  each county, was appointed, " to
receive donations and particular subscriptions for a College; " —reference being had to other places than Burlington.  But no donations
were offered, and no subscriptions taken, it being supposed that Gen.
Allen's offer was the best, that could be obtained.
During the October session of the Legislature in 1791, the subject
was renewed, and seriously entered upon.  A bill was drawn up, presented, discussed, and passed in Grand Committee;-the names of
the Trustees, and the place of location being left blank.  The bill is
believed to have been drafted by the Hon. Samuel Hitchcock, father
of the late Chief Justice of Alabama, and of Gen. E. A. Hitchcock
of the United States Army, who was tha member from  Burlington.
The main features of it were furnished by Rev. Samuel Williams,
D. D., of Rutland, the Historian of Vermont.t  The question of
location was one of deep interest.  It had been a topic of discussion
for a longperiod. In 1785, Hon. E. Paine presented a memorial for the
*'See note A.
Q-Quarterly Register Vol, XIIt/h pp. 399,




8                     IIISTORICAL DISCOURSE,
establishment and location of a University at Williamstown.  A cornm
mittee was appointed by the Legislature, on that memorial, and reported, particularly, on the pointof location. Gen. Allen's memorial, presented in 17S9, led to a long debate on the same topic; and finally, to
the appointment of a committee of inquiry and solicitation in behalf of
other places.  As the principal early settlements had been  made
in the most southerly parts of the State, both Bennington and Rutland
had their advocates.  Thus the subject was one of public and general conversation, as well as of discussion among the members of the
Legislature.  It was finally decided by ballot, as follows'  Burlington 89, Rutland 24, Montpelier 5, Danville 1, Castleton 1, Berlin 1, Williamstown 5.  Special care was taken in the selection of
Trustees to secure both suitable, and liberal minded men.  A  committee of seven was appointed to nominate twenty-one persons, which
was enlarged to twenty-three, from which ten should be selected  for
Trustees.  This being done, the bill was reported to the House.  It
passed without opposition, and was approved by the Governor and
Council, November third, 1791.
By this Act, the Governor, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, for the time being, and the President of the University, when
elected, were to be ex-officio Trustees.  The others chosen, were
Caleb Blood, Bethuel Chittenden, Asa Burton, George Browne, Ira
Allen, Charles Platt, Jonathan Arnold, Enoch Woodbridge, Samuel
Hitchcock, and Jonathan Hunt,* who, (they might be increased to
seventeen) and the successors of whom, were to be the Board of
Trustees forever; and to be styled the " Corporation of the University of Vermont.'
This Board were to fill their own vacancies, except the ex-officio
members; were to take charge of, lease, rent, &c., all the lands given
by the I" authority of this State for the use, and benefit of a College; "
they were not to hold more than seventy thousand acres of land in
this State, and were allowed freedom from  taxation for property not
exceeding one hundred thousand pounds; they were not allowed to
give preference to any sect or religious denomination; and, when
*Rev. Caleb Blood a Baptist Clergyman then living in Shaftsbury Vt.; Rev. lethuel
Chittenden then of Shelburne Vt.; Rev. Asa, Burton, a Congregational Clergyman, of
Thetford Vt.; Mr. George Browne, a Friend, of New York; Gen. Ira Allen of Colchester
Vt.; Charles Platt Esq. afterwards Judge Platt of Plattsburgh N. Y.; Enoch Woodbridge
Esq. afterwards Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, of Vergennes Vt.; Samuel Hitchcock
afterwards District Judge of the U. S., of Burlington Vt.; I-Ion. Jonathan Hunt afterwards Licut. Governor of Vt., of Vernon Vt.; and Hon. Jonathan Arnold of St. Johnsbury'Vt-Quarterly Register Vol. XIT pp, 399,




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                          9
called upon, were to exhibit to the Legislature a statement of their
financial condition, and the rules and regulations of the Institution.
The corporation entered with earnestness and alacrity upon their
duties.  The first meeting was held on the day the act was signed,
Nov. 3d, 1791, and a committee was appointed to increase the subscriptions, and to secure the donations already made.  In June following, 1792, the Corporation met at Burlington, and after much
examination, and deliberation, the present site was selected; and fifly
acres of land were set oft' fromn lands owned by Gen. Allen.*  At this
meeting, both the number and the power of the committee on donations
were enlarged, and they were directed "' to collect such materials and
make such preparations, as they shall judge necessary to expedite
the erection of the public building."  Preparations were also made
for leasing the public lands.
In October, 1793, the Corporation directed the erection of a building, early the next summer, as a President's house.  It was to be forty-eight by thirty two feet, and two stories high.  It was intended to
open it, as a preparatory school for the College.  It was commenced
in 1794, but not finished, so as to be occupied, until 1799.  At that
time, Rev. Daniel C. Sanders, being dismissed from  his pastoral
charge at Vergennes, was invited to settle in Burlington, as a minister,
on an annual salary of four hundred dollars, with the privilege of
taking pupils, at a tuition of twelve dollars per year, preparatory to
their entering College.  He came, and was authorized to take up his
abode in the house erected for the President of the University.
The University was chartered in the autumn of 1791.  It was
located at Burlington, by a majority, in 125 votes, of 65 over any one
place, and of 53 over all other places.  In 1792, preparatory steps
were taken to secure its donations, to lease its lands, to select its site,
and to erect a public building.  But officers were not appointed, nor
a college edifice commenced, before 1800.  The reasons for this
apparent neglect, are found in the absence of literary men to urge it
forward, in the new and unsettled condition of the country, in the want
of an active circulating medium, in the inexperience, carelessness and
inattention of the principal agent, who was engaged in absorbing business of his own, but more than all, in a difference of opinion in regard
*-It was part of lot No. 112 on the town plan. On the West it included the houses now
on the West side of the College Green, and part of the gardens, as far as the north boundary, which was the plot on which stood the President's house. This line was north of
the centre of the present College Green. The South boundary was Main Street. The lot
extended East, in the forim of a. parallelogram, to constitute the fifty acres.




o0                    HISTORICAL DISCOURSE,
to the conditions of the principal donation of G-en. Ira Allen, and to
his absence from the country, and the pecuniary embarassment conset
quent thereon.  So much did these causes operate to discourage the
enterprise, that no meetings of the Corporation were holden from 1794
to 1798.  From 1795 to 1800, there was no member of the Board of
Trustees resident in Burlington, and as Gen. Allen was absent, most
of the time, the interests of the University were little cared for.  " His
absence, Dr. Sanders says, put a total obstacle in the way of carrying the institution into operation."  To Gen. Allen, however, more
than to any other man, perhaps than to all others, are we indebted for
the existence of the University, at the early day in which it sprang into
life.  And we are especially indebted to him, for its location in a
place, equi-distant from Dartmouth and Williams Colleges; one easily accessible from all quarters of the country, and on a site, where its
dome reveals its existence, as a fountain of literary culture, to the
commerce that floats upon our Lake-to all that dwell in its great
valley, and to all that look dowvn from the distant mountains of the
East, of the South, and of the West.
The biography of this gentleman has never been written.  It is a
duty, which perhaps the University owes to its principal founder, and
which the State of Vermont owes to the most far-reaching mind,
which united with others in guiding and controling her political interests to an eminently successful issue, to see that this is done by no
unworthy pen.  With very slight literary culture, and almost no literary acquisitions whatever, he possessed a most comprehensive mind,
and a highly creative and philosophical spirit. IHe furnished much of the
material for Williams' History of Vermont, and lhe held not unfrequent
conference with that scholarly man, respecting the University, which he
proposed to bring into being, years before his plans were matured for
the public eye.  The idea of a State, in its completeness, was present
to his mind, to realize which he earnestly struggled for independent
political organization, that its shield might protect and secure the higher interests of humanity, which are found in its literary, philosophical
and religious culture.  While the public saw little or nothing, but a
most active and busy man in out-of-door matters, his correspondence
reveals, here and there, glimpses of the mind of a Statesman, that
saw clearly, and saw warily, what were the purposes of a Commonwealth, and what the means of obtaining them.  With him the University was no scheme of sectional, sectarian, or village, interest, but
one which entered necssarily   into the idea of the growtlh and culture




HIsTO'ls'CAL DiSCOURSE~'1X
of the State of Vermont.  And no alumnus can look back upon the
fontal existence of his Almia Mater with any other feelings towards
Gen. Allen, than those of r espectful admiration and of reverent gratitude. 
At the meeting of the Corporation, in January, 1800, Rev. Daniel C.
Sanders, and Win. C. Harrington and David Russell) Esquires, were
elected members firom the Town of Burlington.  This was preparatory to commencing vigorous efforts on the spot, and should have been
done five or six years earlier.  Mr. Russell had been appointed agent,
in the place of Mir. Stanton, in October preceeding, and now  was
appointed a committee to c; solicit and receive subscriptions for the
use and benefit of the University, and to procure such durable materials,
as are necessary for the erection of a College edifice."  Mr. Harrington was elected Treasurer, and Rev. D.. Sanders Secretairy. An
active exectutive power was thus constituted on the spot. By their efforts,
aided specially by Dr. John Pomeroy, the citizens of Burlington were
led to offer to the Corporation, a subscription of two thousand and
three hundred dollars, to erect a public College edifice, and for the
purchase of books and apparatus.  In the Spring of the following
year, 1800, contracts were made for its erection as early as possible
in the summer of 1801.  At the October Sessionof theCorporation,
in 1800, a fu.rther petition was presented, by the inhabitants of the town,
requesting the appointment of a College Faculty, and guaranteeing the
payment of such officers, as should be appointed, for " the term of
three years, or until such fmuther period as the funds shall be sufficiently productive as to enable the Corporation to effect the same object."
Whereupon "' after ong conversation and due deliberation, " the  Rev
Daniel C. Sanders was chosen President, Oct. 17th 1800.  He was
authorized to employ a tutor to assist him in the instruction of scholars.  Four students were admitted, and instruction commenced in the
University of Vermont. The fiftieth anniversary of the graduation of
these students, we this day celebrate.
Instruction, in the College proper, began in 1801, and though the
President was authorized to employ a Tutor, he gave, with a single
exception for a few days, all the teaching, alone, for the first three
years.  The class of 1 804, received all their instruction from him, and
as the classes increased, he often employed six, eight, and ten hours
of the day, in personal recitations.  The first Tutor was appointed in
1804, but he continued, but for a single term; and no other was
appointed until 1807.  The duties of the President were, of necessity,
very laborious and very various.  I-le not only taught all the classes.




P,                    HIWSTORICAL DISCOUR3Ev
but gave frequent, almost constant, attention to the supervision of all
the interests of the College, its building, its lands, its donations, and
its apparatus for instruction and for demonstration.  All things, up to
1807, seem to have proceeded with all the harmony, efficiency, and
general integrity, both of purpose and of fulfilment, which could have
been reasonably expected.  Dr. Sanders says of Mr. Russel and Dr.
John Pomeroy, " these two gentlemen rendered the institution most
zealous, active, most persevering, and most unexampled services and
most important patronage, and merit much of the gratitude of posterity.,,
Rev. Dr. Sanders was a graduate of Harvard University of the
class of 1 786. He was a man of large stature; six feet in height, of manly proportions, of great personal courage, of gentlemanly bearing, and
of quick, impulsive, but honorable feelings.  He had much of the
genial character, which is justly attributed to those, who are called men
of genius, and many of his characteristics seem to classify him in that
category of human character.  He secured, at once, the affections of
the students.  He entered, with parental watchfulness and with generous frankness, into full communication with them, respecting their
trials, their necessities, and their hopes.  He encouraged them  by
his counsel; he lifted them up by the fresh sympathy of his gleesome
spirit; he gave energy to their labors. and firmness to their character,
by the earnest and joyful activity which marked all his own efforts,
and which pervaded his conversation.  He was not profound, as a
thinker, nor severely logical as a reasoner, nor of a high form of classical elegance and accuracy as a writer.  But he was lucid, fresh,
and original in forms of expression, full of benignity and kindness in
his sentiments, and was listened to with general admiration.  This,
with his ease and genial dignity of manner, made him popular, both in
public and in private, and his services much sought for, in the vicinity,
on public occasions.  His opinions, on moral subjects, were those of
Dr. Paley, in whichlle had been instructed, and in Theology, probably,
at first, those of Dr. Hopkins of Newport 1R. I., rejecting some of the
logical conclusions of that distinguished man.  Althotugh, at this period, he called himself " orthodox," in the language of that day, his
attainments were not such as to secure him an elevated position in the
profession.  In later years, the frank and liberal feelingsof his character, drew him more towards the opinions, which his earlier associates
at Harvard had adopted.  But, as an officer of the University, he
was earnest and faithful in enforcing the necessity of a firm  and un=




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE                       13
yielding religious character; and was strict in demanding a compliance
with the religious llabits of the community, which, however, were
characterized rather by indifference than zeal.
From  1801 to 1807, was a period on which the mind dwells
with satisfaction.  The University had come into being, and it proceeded in all its growth with as much vigor, and with as full and hopeful a development, as its circumstances permitted.  The meeting of
the Corporation in September 1807 was one of great importance.  It
seemed to be one of those occasions, when it became apparent to all
that the seed, which had been planted, having germinated sprung up and
begun to shoot forth its stalk and to unfold its leaves, called for guiding
hands to shape its future growth into mature and fruitful beauty.  At
this meeting, exact note was taken of what had been accomplished, and
special plans were formed for future progress. A public building had
been erected, 160 feet long, the central part 75 feet wide, and the
wings 45, four stories in height.  In this was a chapel, seven large
public rooms, and forty-five chambers for students.  There was a
President's House, two stories high, with appropriate out buildings, and
fifty acres of land for the subsequent buildings of the University.There was a College library of 100 vols.; a Society library of 100
vols.; and a "Burlington Library" valued at five hundred dollars.
Of astronomical and philosophical apparatus, there was a telescope,
planetarium, quadrants, two setts of 24 inch Globes,* and other necessary articles of value, besides seven hundred dollars worth of instruments purchased of the Rev. Dr. Prince of Salem, Mass., by individuals,'[ and deposited for the use of the University, in the Philosophical chamber.  The apparatus was more complete, than in any of the
Colleges in New England, except Harvard and Yale.  The course of
study was as extensive as in any of the New England Colleges, and
was taken mainly from that of Harvard University.  I-Here, chemistry
and anatomy was added, which were not usual in the other Colleges.
Rev. Samuel Williams, L. L. D., the Historian of Vermont, delivered, for two years, courses of demonstrative lectures on astronomy
and Natural Philosophy, which were the first of the kind, it is supposed, in New England.  They were continued by Prof. James
Dean. Dr. John Pomeroy gave lectures also, on Anatomy and Surgery. The tuition was twelve dollars per year. This covered all the demands of the Corporation on each student.  Indeed Dr. Sanders
~Presontocl by Francis Child Esq., M5SS. of Dr. Sanders.
tDr. John Pomeroy, David Russel Esq., and Col. V. C. IIarrington,
2




14                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
calculates,* that a C' poor scholar," by keeping school four months
each winter, at sixteen dollars per month, the average price, can pay
all his College bills, and his board; and leave College with thirty-two
dollars in his pocket!!
The income from public lands was stated to be one thousand, fortyeight dollars, and seventy one-cents.  This was sequestered, by vote
of the Corporation, to the exclusive payment of the salaries, which
were fixed; viz.: the President's at six hundred dollars; the Professor
of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, three hundred and fortyeight dollars, and seventy-one cents; and a Tutor at three hundred dollars. Mr. James Dean, a graduate of Dartmouth College, from Windsor, Vt., was appointed Tutor, with a salary of three hundred dollars,
with the expectation of a Professor's chair; to which he was chosen
in 1809. One hundred and fifty dollars was appropriated, for the
increase of the library, and one hundred dollars for that of the philosophical apparatus, from money to arise from the increase of rents.
A general agent, David Russell Esq., was appointed to rent the public lands, to sell lands not public, and to look up the property of the
University.  Besides these, there was a manifest watch and care
extended to the minute but important matters, that respect the discipline! of the institution;: and also to its external relations.  The outline of instruction was well considered, the plans for perfecting it
were judicious, and the means prepared for carrying it forward, though
inadequate, gave hope of healthful progress. The number of students was forty-seven, and "more were expected."  The institution
exhibited vigorous growth, and gave promise of usefulness. One cannot but look back with surprise, and see what had been proposed and
what accomplished, within the seven preceding years.  Subscriptions had been raised, buildings erected, the' Academical Faculty
organized, instruction commenced and prosecuted, and that with an
almost utter destitution of books. The work had proceeded with
remarkable comprehensiveness, as to the purpose of a -literary institution of the highest order, and with great precision and distinctness of
outline. The creative and vigorous mind of Allen, the acquisitive
and scholar-like mind of Williams, and the reflective and profound
mind of Hitchcock had all worked for it, and in it. The two last
were graduates from Harvard University, who, together with Dr.
Sanders, brought the habits and experimental knowledge: of that vener~MSS. of Dr. Sanders.




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                      15
able Institution to aid in the practical workings of the University; and
also to give it distinctness, and precision of outline.
Much praise is also due to IMr. David Russell, the financial agent of
the College. HIe was an active, vigorous, conciliating, and hopeful
man, however he might have been wanting in that unsleeping care,
and legal vigilance, which would have secured its purposes without
final detriment to the landed property of the Institution, in the town of
Burlington.
About this period, three causes began to work mischief to the growing interests of the University.  The first, and most obvious, was the
system  of commercial restrictions adopted by the United States
Government- the non-intercourse act of 18,07, the first of that series
of measures, which issued in the war of 1812..  The second was the
influence of Middlebury College..  The third was the predominant
laical influence, in the Corporation.  These causes, though apparently very distinct, were all blended together.
As to the non-intercourse law; the prosperity of this portion of
Vermont, and especially of.the town of Burlington, dependedln trade
with Canada.  There was no opening at the East or South for the
products of the country; there were neither railrroads nor canals, nor
passable common roads.  The action of the United States Government awakened the most violent, systematic, and prolonged opposition
to its measures.  To such an extent was this carried, at one time,
that President Jefferson issued his proclamation declaring Vermont
to be in a state of rebellion.
The town of Burlington became excited to the highest degree, at
the summary destruction of its commercial interests.  Dr. Sanders
had been so long here, and had become so identified, both with the
prosperity of the towni, and with the University, that it would not be
surprising, if with characteristic frankness and ardor, he expressed his
opinions. And the more so, because the foremost man, who justified
the Government, was young, and had but recently come from New
York. As many things had been done, and many left undone, in the
efforts at founding, and carrying forward the College, which had disappointed individuals-subscriptions unwisely obtained, rigorously
and unwisely collected, perhaps by legal process, and then used without due care and watchfulness-it was found very convenient to
increase political combinations, by the use of this abraded feeling; and
thus began a political war upon the University.
Middlebury College had been chartered in 1800.  It was situated




16                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE~
in the Northern part of Addison County, and thus naturally took the
students from the Counties south and south-east.  These Counties,
at that period, were the most populous, the most wealthy, and furnished the greatest number of students of any in the State.  They
were also the centre of the most active and effective religious influence. It was to be expected, in the competition that necessarily
sprung up between the two Institutions, that that one, which was nearest the centre of religious influence, should assume the superiority of
its own religious character, and give a direction to the current of
thinking and of representation, which had more of policy, than of charity in it.  The result was, that the University did not find itself possessed of that field from which to gather students, that its founders
and the legislature expected, and it was also deprived, to a great extent, of the natural and necessary support, which a young institution
seeks from the clergy of a commonwealth.
Middlebury College was chartered without any intention, as is supposed, and as has been said, by some who labored for that object,
of creating a second College in Vermont. But since the University
had not gone into operation, and a flourishing school existed in
Middlebury, it was thought the public funds of the University might
be removed from Burlington, and given to the Institution proposed.
Although this was not openly avowed on the floor of the legislature, but the contrary, yet, both subsequent acts, and the declaration
of persons knowing to the facts, make it certain, that the intent and
the expectation was, to concentrate the patronage of the State on a
large institution at Middlebury, and there being no occasion for two,
in the State, the one at Burlington, it was intended, should never go
into operation. A careful examination of facts not only shows it was
so, but any other supposition seems derogatory both to the wisdom,
and to the character of those concerned in getting the charter for a
new College.
The notion that the University was under such control of the legislature, as that its literary and religious character might be subject to
political charlatanry, was altogether an after thought; not having existence even, until twelve or fifteen years after the origin of Middlebury
College. I am not aware, that this objection of the friends of
Middlebury, as against the University, was ever made, or even
thought of, until after the Act of 1810, and the occurrence of the case
of Dartmouth College, which was in 1816, and not 1800, when
Middlebury College was founded. On the point of control of the




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE,                      17
legislature of whieli a good deal was made, at one time, the charter
of Middlebury College reads as follows:-all " laws, rules, and ordi=
nances * * * for the instruction, and education of students, and
ordering, governing, ruling, and managing the said College and all
matters, and affairs thereto belonging," passed and adopted by the
President and Fellows " may also be repealed or disallowed, by the
said legislature when they think proper."*  There is no such control
of the legislature suggested, or hinted at, in the University charter of
1791.
The existence and comparative prosperity of Middlebury College,
bothl diminished the anticipated number of the students, and, by and
by, weakened the religious sympathies, which otherwise would naturally have clustered about the University, and have given strength and
increased prosperity to it.  This served to diminish the clerical influence in the Corporation of the University, and to increase that of the
political and official men; and while these were unwilling, if not unable,
to bear the toil, and care, and thinking, necessary to the progress and
perfection of a rising institution, the idea was brought forward of cornbining the influence of all political parties in favor of the University,
by changing the mode of electing the members of the Corporation,
and, in other ways, forming a close intimacy with the political government of the State.  This was at a period, when political men were
excited to a degree, almost without precedent, and were deeply
absorbed in their own schemes.
It is not apparent, who suggested and urged this scheme of changisng the mode of electing the members of the Corporation.  At the
meeting of the Corporation in August, 1810, W. C. Harrington Esq.,
introduced a resolution, " that this Corporation have no objection to
the Legislature's passing of the Act, that was laid before the Assembly, at their session in Oct. 1809, and laid over until their next session, which Act contemplates the appointment of a Corporation of
this University by the Legislature, at certain given periods." The
Journal of the House of assembly for 1809 shows, that a bill was presented and referred to a committee, which was reported upon and
passed, in the form of a resolution, and was sent to the Governor and
Council, who concurred, and then it was referred to the next Legislature. It was doubtless this bill, in the form of a resolution, to which
Mr. Harrington refers in his resolution, in the Corporation of 1810.
*Acts and Laws of the State of VAermont for 1800.




18                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
The Corporation refused to adopt the resolution of Mr. Harrington,
and he resigned. - At the same meeting, three clergymen resigned,
Messrs. Bogue, Burton, and Worcester, doubtless from dissatisfaction with the plans proposed by the majority of the Corporation, xWho,
it appears, had in contemplation some change in the mode of electing
members.  This was at the meeting at Burlington in August.  The
Corporation adjourned to meet at Montpelier in October, during the
session of the Legislature.  They met, and asked of the Legislature
the appointment of a committee i' to advise with the Corporation,
in relation to the interests of the University of Vermont, and
to devise the best mode to promote the same."  A  committee of
conference was appointed, which resulted in agreeing to the passage
of the Act of November 10th, 1810.  The principal change proposed
to be effected, by this Act, was in the mode of appointing the Trustees,
who had been heretofore elected by the Board, but henceforth were
to be appointed by the joint ballot of the Legislature.  Five members
were to be chosen every three years.  One was added to the number
of the Trustees, and the legislature proceeded to fill the vacancies
in the Board, and to act under the law.  Ten members, who constituted a majority of the whole Board, were immediately elected.Respecting this singular transaction, it is to be remarked, that there
were but seven members of the Board, including the ex-officio members, present.  This was not a quorum  for transacting any regular
business.
A meeting was appointed at Burlington, January 1st, 1811, to
organize the new Board, and when it met, it appeared that a majority
of the Corporation was composed of those appointed by the Legislature.  Instead of making an addition to the Corporation, the.Act
changed, and controlled it.  In this respect, it was analogous to the
Acts of the New Hampshire Legislature, concerning Dartmouth College.  By a subsequent Act of the Legislature, in 1823, the number of
Trustees was increased to twenty-eight, including the ex-officio members.  The probable reason of this was the fact, that the number
of the Fellows of Middlebury College being unlimited, so many were
elected into that Board, that the University was often deprived of such,
as it might be desirable to elect.  But the whole relation to the State,
as attempted to be constituted, by the Act of 1810, was found practicilly injarioi;, to th3 Institution.  Other reasons, than those which
should govern in the selection of men for the guidance of such an In.
stitution, prevailed.  The patronage, which was anticipated from the




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                      19
State, was not given, and all parties were satisfied, in 1 828, to repeal
the act of 1810, so far as regarded the number, term of service, and
mode of electing the Corporation.  Thus the action of the original
Charter wras revived.
This is not the place for an extended discussion of the legal points
involved in this surrender of the Corporate powers of the University,
and then the subsequent resumption of them. At the period, when this
was done, the discussion, arising out of what Chancellor Kent calls the' Great case of Dartmouth College," had not taken place; and the
relation of rights, conceded to the public, and enjoyed by them, to
subsequent acts of the Legislature, that is, to the Grantor, had not
been judicially established; indeed, they had not been made a matter of
question from any quarter.  New light was shed upon this subject, by
the profound investigation of the most learnedl Counsel, which issued
in the fundamnental, comprehensive, and masterly opinion of Judge
Mlarsball, in the case of Dartmouth College.  These opinions w ere
subsequently applied by Mr. Justice Story, in the Circuit Court of
the United States, in the case of Allen versus the Trustees of Bowdoin College, in such way, as to leave little doubt, on the minds of
some eminent jurists, that the whole Act of the Legislature in IS10,
in regard to the University of Vermont, would be called, in the language of Mr. Justice Story, a "_miscarriage of parties;" and would
be pronounced unconstitutional.  Thus, by a return to the action
prescribed by the clharter of 1791, the University is placed on a
settled basis, from which it cannot be removed except for cause.
The new Corporation commenced its labors, in January, 1811,
with the best intentions, and with comprehensive and excellent purposes.  They examined its financial condition, and found besides
$3000 due to the officers, $8000 due to David Russell, whio had
been Agent and'I'reasurer.  To meet this, there was a large amount
of unpaid rent, uncollected tuition, &c., but not sufficient.  A more
minute, and accurate a.ency for the leasing of liands, and the
collecting of rents, was organized, by the appointment of Trustees
and others, residing in various parts of the State.  This species of
agency wvas continued until about 1843, very muLch to the einbarrassment of the treasury, at times,  After this period, rents were made
payable. at the office in Burlington.
At this meeting, a committee was appointed, and reported, on the
subject of a system of laws, and on the establishment of professorships;
on the importance of public worship, in the chapel; and on the




20                    HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
arrangement for commons, besides other matters.  The committee9
consisting of the Tion. R-oyall Tyler, and the I-Ion. W. C. Bradley,
reported on the subject of Professorships, that in addition to the Professors of Mathemnatiscs and Natural Philosophy, and of Medicine, a
Professor of the Learned Languages should be immediately appointed
and also a Professor of Law, and that, as soon as the funds would allow, a Professor of Belles Lettres, and one of' Clhemistry and Minerology should be appointed; "whose duty it shall  be to analyze, at the
charge of the Institution, all fossils, minerals &c., which may be discovered within the limits of th:is State."  The Professorships were
all established, and the Rev. Jason Cllatnberlain appointed to that
of the Learned Languages, and Royall Tyler to that of Law.
It was recomnmended, that public worship be established in the
Chapel, after the next commencement.  In the meantime, the Society, over which the Rev. Daniel Haskell was ordained, had liberty
to use the chapel for public worship, until Commencement, (eight
months,) after which time it would not be needed by the Society.
The Rlon. Messrs. T. Hutchinson, Royall Tyler, and WV. C. Bradley were the most prominent men, in making the examination into the
condition of the finances, and in suggesting and maturing the plans for
fiture growth, and in urging forward their accomplishment.
What would have been the result of this movement, had not the
political excitement of the country absorbed all oTher subjects of interest, cannot now  be anticipated.  The expectation, on the part of
some, doubtless was, that the Legislature would be induced to render such aid to the University, in some form, as would fill the chairs
of instruction, and furnish, from time to tilne, the means necessary to
complete the organization of the University, in a manner adequate to the
demands and necessities of a civilized State, in modern times. There
can be no question, but that the idea of a University, in its relation
to the professional life of the State, as seen in its legislative bodies,
in its courts of laws, in its religious assemblies, in its care of physical
life and health, and also-in its relations to those chemical combinations "of fossils, minerals, &c., which may be found within the limits
of this State," which alone reveal both llie laws of Nature, and an
intelligent acquaintance with her products, there can be no question,
I repeat, but that the idea of a University, in its comprehensiveness
and completeness, was brought into a more conscious knowledge,
and, its immediate purposes and wants, more distinctly defined and
made apparent, by its temporary connection with the political authori



HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                    21
ty, than it would have been without it.  The whole interests of the
University were earnestly and zealously taken hold of, by the new Corporation.  Such men as Samuel Hitchcock, who was a clear and profound thinker; as Dudley Chase, who was sound-minded, genial, and
popular; as Titus Hutchinson, who was careful, searching, and
watchfld; as Rloyall Tyler, who was original, perhaps odd, but classical
and elegant, leaving Court and going to the College to examine students, and reciting from mnemory Eclogues from Virgil to show quantity
and pronunciation; and as William C. Bradley, who was the "' myriad
minded" man among them, but full of practical good sense, such men
could not give their best thoughts, even for a short period, to such a
matter, and not impart both'scope, and enlargement, and security to it.
But politics now absorbed every other subject.  Commercial restrictions were again laid upon the commerce of the country.  Northern
Vermont was all but ruined, as to its immediate prospects of business.
It became the ground for smuggling from the British provinces.
The frontier was lined with Custom House Officers, whose berth then
was anything but a sinecure.  The region was about to become the
seat of war, which had been declared against Great Britain, on the
1Sth of June 1812.  Troops were ordered here. Burlington became
the head quarters of military operations; and the small town was
little else than a camp of armed men.  The College building was
seized for an arsenal, and soon demanded for barracks; and, if refused,
forcible possession was determined on.
Under these circumstances, the Corporation resolved, on the 24th
of Marchll, L814, after having rented the building to the United States
Government for five thousand dollars per year, " that the regular
course of instruction be, and hereby is suspended, and that those
officers of College, to whose offices salaries are annexed, be dismissed
from their offices respectively."
The purposes of the Corporation, as set forth in 1811, had not been
realized; and the Rev. Dr. Sanders, Professor James Dean, and
the Rev. Jason Chamberlain, who  constituted  the  Academical
Faculty, left the Institution.  l)egrees were given to the Senior Class,
and the younger members of the University were recommnended to
other Institutions.
In September of the following year, Peace having been made, the
Institution was re-organized.  The Rev. Samuel Austin, of Worcester, Massachusetts, was appointed President; the ltev. James
Murdock, of Princeton, Massachusetts, Professor of Languages.; the
3




22                       HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
Rev. Ebenezer Burgess, now of Dedham, Massachusetts, Professor
of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy; and Jairus Kennon, Professor of Chemistry and  Mineralogy.   Thile College building was
placed  in perfect repair, by the  United  States Government, and
instruction was begun in September.
The connection of the political authority  of the  State with the
University, in the appointment of Trustees, excited the fear of the
religious public, that the Institution might be controlled for political
purposes.  Tthe religious controversy, which arose about IS10-12,
served to increase the solicitude, respecting the religious influence of the
University.   These thoughts and opinions, being made prominent
by the competition, that more or less existed, in relation to Middlebury College, all led to the appointment of a Faculty of marked
religious character.  The two most prominent members were somewhat advanced  in  age; and  although  the one was " an able and
interesting instructor, especially  in mental and moral philosophy,"
and the other a very learned, and very accurate scholar in the Ancient
Languages, and both were loved and respected  by their pupils, yet
they were, perhaps, wanting in that genial vigor of youthful hope, and
in the pliant and accommodating character of youthful labor, which
was important, if not necessary, to  awaken g~eneral sympathy  in
b'ehalf of the University.  Mr. Kennon died, in one year after his
appointment;*  Mr. Burgess left the Institution  in two years; Dr.
Murdock in four,t and Dr. Austin in six.
During  Dr. Austin's presidency, the College assumed, in  the
Academical department, altogether more exactness  of form, more
regularity of discipline, more precision and thorouglhness of instruction
than, as a whole, had ever pertained to  it.  There was no attempt
to enlarge the boundaries of study, or to extend the range of thinking
beyond the text books, and methods of instruction, which belonged
to a well regulated New England College.  Compactness, precision,
and regular habits, under strong and good forms of religious accountableness, were the objects aimed at:  Immediately preceding the war,
M ir. Kennon was regarded, by his contemporaries, as a man of very uncommon
promise. lie possessed genitus without its eceentricities, or its impulsive habits. Hlis
humorous powers were unbounded, but of classic purity. I-Ie is supposed to have been
connected with J. K. Paulding and Washington Irving, in writing the papers of
Salmagundi, contributing, for his portion, the poetical parts, and some materials for the
prose. IIe was an ardent, accurate, and severe student, of whosm the highest hopes were
entertained.
t Dr. Murdock is still living, and resident in Neww Haven, Conn. His life has been
that of a student, and his attainments, in Ecclesiastical History, and in a critical knowledge of the Latin, Greek, IHebrew, Arabic, and especially the Syriac languages, have
placed him in the highest rank of American Scholars.




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                     23
the political power of the State had been invoked, as that which was
of paramount importance; and during the war, the maxims of morality,
and the bonds of religion had been disregarded, and broken through;
and, in these peculiar circumstances, the firmness and energy of
religious principle, girt round about by the habits of a Roman discipline, were precisely what was needed.
The expectations, which Dr. Austin entertained, when he entered
upon his office, were not met.  The rent due for the use of the
College, during the war, instead of supplying its present need, was
appropriated to the payment of debts, of such kind, and of so many
years standing, as to have been thought outlawed, by the common
sentiments of social comity and charity; they were, however, legally
revived, and, being paid, the College derived little present benefit
frion the money in question.  It does not seem  to have been Dr.
Austin's intention to remain permanently connected with the College,
unless certain conditions of success were attained, in a given time,
which, not occurring, principally by reason of the revival of these
outstanding claims, he resigned and left the Institution, at the end of
six years, in March 182 1.
The Rev. Daniel Haskeil, a clergyman of this place, was appointed President, pro tempore; and instruction was continued.
So great, however, were the embarrassments of the Institution, at
this time, and so hopeless had its guardians and former firiends
become, that the Faculty were authorized to suspend instruction,
at their own discretion.  They gave notice, that it would cease, at
the end of the autumnal term, and that exeunt omnes would be
written upon the doors of the Urniversity.
Although it might be said, that the University was now forsaken by
its natural guardians, and abandoned by its teachers, yet a few of its
graduates, although perplexed, were not in despair, and although cast
down were not destroyed.  To Arthur L. Porter, a young Professor
of Chemistry and Pharmacy, more than to any other, the College is
indebted for its revival, at this period.  He was a young man of genial
feelings, of great activity, and an earnest, and enthusiastic scholar.
He had pursued the study of medicine at Dartmouth College, but
finished his studies at Edinburgh, dwelling in a room eight feet square,
and living on mush and milk.
The graduates of the University in Burlington, and a few active
members of a Literary Society, had assembled to consult upon the
division of the Library of the Society, and, the opinions being various




24                      HISTORICAL  DISCOURSES
and opposite, the discussion was continued several evenings, with
much excitement, and some bitterness.  The extinction of the College,
for the time being, was taken for granted.   The discussions were
about the division of the remains.  Professor Porter rose in the meeting, and said, although as an honorary member, he had no personal or
pecuniary interest, in the division of the books, yet no scholar could
consider the breaking up, and scattering of a Library, other than as
treason in the kingdom of letters.  After allaying the irritation of the
meeting, by such like remarks, he insisted that the Library should not
be distributed, but that the College might, and could be revived.  He
then proceeded to suggest, in a rude outline, several methods by which
it might be done.  The result was the spirit of irritation was destroyed,
harmony restored, a new purpose formed, and a committee appointed,
to carry it out.  The young gentlemen put themselves earnestly to
the work of staying the calamity, and of reviving the Institution. And
before the close of the term, they secured the appointment of the Rev.
Daniel Haskell, as President, and  James Dean, as Professor of
1Mathematics. 0 Divine Providence smiled on these efforts, and in about
two years, the number of students increased from twenty two to
seventy.  But alas! The days of mourning were not ended.  Thick
darkness settled down upon the horizon, which was brightening with
new rays of hope.  The  temple, the beautiful temple, where our
fathers had kindled the vestal flame of science for their children, was
burned with fire, and all its pleasant things were consumed.  And then
the priest, the high priest of the fane, wearied, worn, perplexed and
made sad, was smitten in intellect, and crazed.  Thus, in a moment,
in one day, came desolation and widowhood upon our Alma Mater.
In this sad hour, how quick and how  earnest was the response of
humanity to our desolation.  Eight thousand three hundred dollars,
were immediately pledged, by the inhabitants of Burlington, and its
vicinity, for a new edifice.  This was the work of the same young
men, by whose exertions the College had been saved from closing its
doors, two years before.  Professor Porter, aided by Charles Adams,
*Prof. Dean was connected with the University more or less, from 1807 to 1824. He
died in Burlington in January 1849. He possessed a mathematical mind, distinguished
for its clearness and accuracy, rather than its depth and scientific insight. He devoted
himself to the life of a student, and acquired much, and various knowledge, rather than
comprehension and profound principles. He was rigid in his discipline, the sharp lines
of which were perhaps increased, by an occasional irritability of temper, which seemed to
spring from his very peculiar physical constitution. He was inordinately fleshy, and in
such way as to give the appearance rather of disease, than of health. His influence in
the University was marked by adherence to law and order, in the simple and earnest
pursuit of its objects.




HIISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                     25
Luman Foote, J. N. Porneroy, Gamaliel Sawyer, and especially by
N. B. Haswell, with others, seemed almost to create funds by their
hope, their enthusiasm, and their active vigor.  In three months plans
were formed, contracts were made, and arrangements completed for
the erection of a new public building.  The Rev. John Wheeler, of
Windsor, Vermont, was chosen President, and the Rev..J. J.
Robertson, an Episcopal Clergyman, and afterwards a missionary in
Greece, was elected Professor of Languages.  In the following
winter, January or February 1825, George Wyllys Benedict, of
Newburgh, New York, was appointed Professor of Alathematics and
Natural Philosophy; and Mr. Wheeler not accepting, the Rev. Willard
Preston, pastor of a church in this place, was elected President.  In
the following Aug; 1826, Dr. Preston resigned, and removed into
the Southern States; and in October, Rev. James  Iarsh was
appointed to the vacancy.
So rapidly had calamity followed calamity, and so occupied had all
minds and all hearts been in keeping the Institution in actual operation, that little attention had been given to the course of study, and no
attempt made to give any special character to it.  Sufficient for
the day was the evil thereof, and scarcely a thought could be given
either to the physical, or intellectual provision of the morrow.
Dr. Haskell was less frank and genial, than Dr. Austin, but more
vigorous and energetic.  He would have carried the University
forward with energy, and with due regard to prudence.  His mind
was clear, correct, and active, but not symmetrical and artistic.  His
plans were practical, and they were faithfully carried out.  Had he
remained for many years in the University, he might not have enlarged
the course of study, and made erudite, but he would have made
accurate, scholars, and he would have given strength, and maturity,
and practical power to the College, both in its inward, and outward
relations.  Its religious influence, under him, would have been of a
pure and charitable kind, while it would have possessed an almost
sleepless activity, and at times a burning energy.
Dr. Preston was connected with the College for so short a time,
that little can be said respecting his actual, or prospective influence.
He was a man remarkable for his gentlemanly and elegant bearing, of
simple, genial. and artistic tastes; and, in the discharge of his public
duties, secured, at once, the love and admiration of students, and of
others.
The type of thinking in these three Presidents, on moral, intellec



26                    HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
tual, and religious topics, was the same.  Their idea of a College,
its purposes, its studies, its discipline, its religious character, its
influence and its power were substantially the same, and to be promoted  by the same general means.  They  were good  and fair
specimens of the intellectual training and culture, that pertained to the
clergy of their day.  Each had his peculiarities, and these were more
or less developed by the accidental relations and positions, which he
had occupied, making hlim  personally more or less agreeable, as the
case mniglt be, to this or that party in politics, or religion, or philosophy.  They  were honest minded, fearless men, and labored,
according to their ability, and even beyond it, to make the University
an Institution of great integrity of purpose.  Students were taught to
be honest and truthful scholars, and if the Institution could not give
them that character, it could give them no character, which would
abide the jutdgment of a tribunal, that looked not on the outward
appearance, but on the heart.
Frequent changes, in the administration of a College, are highly
injurious to its practical working.  Its laws, not being matured and
settled into uniform habits, become enfeebled, or produce irritation
and restive feeling, which is at war with all acquisition of knowledge;
and especially at war with the most valuable of all acquisitions, those,
which are spontaneous.  Under such circumstances, the character of
a student is liable to become querulous, unstable, without greatness,
without dignity, and without strength.  On the other hand, if those
changes, in the Tnstitution, take place by those marked visitations of
Providence, which, in the voice of a Divine AMlajesty, say to our cavils
and complaints, " Peace, be still, and know that I am God!"-the
effect is to make us plan by a principle, and with a wisdom, which
will abide the scrutiny of the All-seeing; and to labor with a reverent
fear of His holy authority.  Such wisdom, and such labor is never put
forth in vain, under the government of God.  He must be an atheist,
who believes it is.  And thus it came to pass, we would humbly hope,
that the furnace of affliction only purified, and that the crucible only
refined the Institution; that while the
" Rudis indigestaque moles"
grew less, the quality grew precious, and the radiant beauties of a
more perfect crystalline formation began to appear.
Of the Medical College of the University, at this period, 1824 to
1826, I cannot speak at large; my knowledge is too imperfect, and




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                      27
the time too short.  It was, so far as outward appearances went, in
its most prosperous condition.  As early as 1804, the school was
contemplated, and Joho Pomeroy, MI. D. elected Professor. Nothing
was done, and this appointment was renewed in 1809.  Although
some Lectures were given in Anatomy, at various times: the College
did not go into full operation until 1821, and the first class of medical
students took their degrees in 1823.   The College continued in
operation until 1834, when, on the death of Dr. Benjamin Lincoln,
it was entirely suspended.  An unsuccessful attempt was made to
revive it firom  1835 to 1837.  It is re-opened, under gratifying
auspices, the present year.
During the years 1824 and 1826, its influence, both directly and
indirectly, in keeping the Academical department alive, and in a convalescent state, was wortly of great praise.  It did not meddle with
the law of its life, and seek to absorb the Academical Faculty into itself,
as the only living power; but it nourished and cherished the University,
for its own inherent excellence, looking to its final growth for remuneration.  Great men, good men, and earnest men were connected
with it.  Professor Porter was here, the one who would not suffer
instruction in the Academical department to stop, though permitted by
the Corporation, and ordered by,the Faculty.  Nathan Ryno Smith
was here, giving early promise of what he has since become, one of
the first practical surgeons in Maryland, and of high eminence, as a
Professor of Surgery.  Also Nathan Smith, (Senior,) a man of more
surgical experience, and of more genuine medical genius, perhaps,
than any man of his day, in New England.  Last, but not least, there
came Benjamin Lincoln, who laid down his life on the altar of
Medical Science.  He came in 1829, and was about thirty years of
age.  He was a graduate of Bowdoin College, in MIaine.  After
comning here, lie was, for one season, Demonstrator of Anatomy in the
Medical College, at Baltimore, and was urged to return there, and
accept a Professor's clhair.  But he hoped to realize, he cared not on
how small a scale, if it were but done, his idea of a medical school,
in this University, without the hindrance of incrusted organic remains
from old formations.  HIe pledged his life to it.  In the frank, genial,
bright and cheerful English of his social converse, he was like
Hugh Miller.  In readiness and clearness, in tracing physiological
analogies and correspondencies, and in rapid and lucid generalization,
in the then almost untrodden field of comparative Anatomy, he was
very like Agassiz.  In moral honesty, and in fearless integrity, he was




28                    HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
an embodied conscience.  His mind was eminently mathematical.
In the stage coach riding of the day, he used to fill his hat with
mathematical papers, diagrams, formulas, and propositions, developing more or less of them, from stage to stage, for his own amusement.  Although not deeply read in mathematical books, his mind
seemed to mount up like a flame into the highest forms of mathematical reasoning, and to expatiate, as in a region of' light, among the
most comprehensive mathematical truths.  His knowledge of the
mathematical relations of musical notes and chords, is believed to have
been unsurpassed, in modern times.  He loved art, and especially
Music, as a mother loves her child; but to him, art must have its
ground  work  of beauty and harrmony, in a  truthful integrity,
as its manifest ground or corner stone, that on which and by which
it was builded up into loveliness, or he was to it a perfect Iconoclast;
it was shivered by the blast of his indignation.  This will be plain to
those, who have read with care his Treatise on the condition of the
Medical schools in Vermont.  It was apparent that the intellectual
activity and the moral energy of the man would early wear out his
physical powers.  From  being a model of delicate, elegant, and
manly beauty, he gradually bent under the rigid contraction of muscular rheumatism, and we held our breath and turned away our eyes in
sorrow, as in 1834, we bid him our last farewell.
He differed in his ultimnate philosophical conclusions, and most
especially in his religious opinions, from Dr. Marsh; but the frankness, the candor, the guilelessness of his speculations, and the elevated
moral bearing of the man, made his a useful mind in philosophical
discussion, and I think, that the lucidness and precision of some of
Dr. NMarsh's views, and the sharp and distinct lines which he drew
between Physiology and Psychology, and between Theism  and
Pantheism, were, not for their origin, but for their clearness, the
result, in great part, of repeated discussions with Dr. Lincoln, and
which, we believe, were not without truthful effect upon him.
In Oct. 1826, Rev. James Marsh was appointed President.  He
was then Professor in Hampden Sidney College, in Virginia, but,
being unwilling to remain there, he sought the situation of President
of the University.  He sought it, from an earnest and devoted love of
learning and of religion, and fiomn an enlarged and disinterested desire
to do the most in his power for letters and for religion, in his Native
State.  Although pre-eniinently modest and self-diffident, there was no
timidity, and no shrinking from the labors and responsibilities of the




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                     29
place. His own idea of the University was a greater and more
rigid master, than any expectation, which others could form. He
only asked for an opportunity to realize his own conceptions of what
such an Institution, as a place of education, should be.  He found for
his associates, in the academical department, George We Benedict,
as Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy; and William
R. Porter, as Professor of the learned Languages.  The latter was
soon called to his Alma Mater, Williams College, as Professor, and
the Rev. Joseph Torrey was elected to fill his place, in 1827.
No sooner had Dr. Marsh entered upon the duties of his office,
than he brought before the Faculty, for careful examination, the
course of study, and the habits of discipline in the University. Thosej
who had preceded him in the office, had given no original examina.
tion to these subjects.  His mind was eminently original, and it
demanded, for its integrity of action, that it should understandi
from its own investigation, both the ultimate purpose, which he sought,
and the reason, or the moral grounds,rwhy he sought it; and also, that
the means by which he sought it, should partake of the moral character of the purpose~ and be adapted to secure it.  He was altogether a
riper scholar, than had ever been connected with the University. He
was more variously learned, more profoundly acquainted with the
philosophical grounds of all literary and scientific, investigation, and
practically more conversant with the habitsj both of literary institutions, and of students.
He was, aided by colleagues worthy of himself.  Discussions commenced at once in the Faculty, on Education generally; and on the
course of study, and discipline, best adapted to produce educated men.
The first result of these discussions was the adoption of a system of
bye-laws, containing some modification of the course of Collegiate
Study, which was published in 1827.  This was followed by an
"Exposition of the System of Instruction and Discipline pursued in the
University of Vermont," published in a pamphlet in 1829; and that
by a second and enlarged edition in 1831, of thirty two pagesy with
a tabular synopsis of the course of study.  The pamphlet, the result
of common discussion, was written by one of the professors.
It was received with great favor, by a large proportion of the
public, and especially of the ripest scholars in the country.  Several
new arrangements of a practical kind were suggested, such as the admission of students to a partial course (which was the initiatory step
to what are now called scientific schools,) that is, allowing students, or
4




30                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
their parents, to choose their studies, subject always to the decision of
the Faculty, but not permitting such to become candidates for a
degree.   Some modification of the system  of classification was
attempted, grounded on the positive attainments of the students, as
determined by examination,  The text books, in the Languages, were
changed, from collections of excerpts, to whole treatises, as far as
was practicable; and positive encouragement was given to read them,
Deyond the demands of the recitation, and examinations were allowed on the extra part read.
College studies were treated as something to be really attained,
without regard to the time to be taken in acquiring them.  To this
end, the examinations were to be exact and thorough.  To secure
this, there were two in the year; one at the close of each study, and
one at the close of the year, which was to embrace all the studies of
that year, and if of an advanced class, all the studies of the preceding
years.  The standing of each student, in each study, was marked in
reference to a given number as perfect.  The service of Tutors was
dispensed with, as far as possible, for the purpose of securing
permanent Professors, who would be more exact, and more comprehensive in their instruction, and who would possess more weight of
character, and power of influence, in personal intercourse.
The ability to write, and to speak in public, was placed upon a par
with other capabilities, and what are called College distinctions were
superseded, by permitting each one to do the best he could, and so
arranging public exhibitions, as to make the class appear, as a whole,
in the best manner, and with the greatest promise of future power.
And if there were more speakers than could be heard, they were not
to be subjected to the chances of a lot, but the best compositions
were to be selected, by such wisdom as an impartial committee
might possess.
Thus the whole character of the instruction was made serious,
solid, substantial, and truthful.  Integrity was written upon every part
of it, and labor, considering the few instructors, was put forth without
stint or measure, and with a self denial, and a self devotion beyond
all praise.  The only fear expressed, by the bestand wisest scholars in
the community, was that the excellence sought and worthily attempted,
would fail in its ultimate purpose, because so few could be found, who
would submit themselves to a discipline demanding such integrity of
purpose, and such habits of study. And what was true of the College
proper, was equally so of the Medical School, under the predomina



HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                     31
ting influence of Dr. Lincoln. A system of instruction was organized
by him, altogether more perfect in its fundamental views, more
thorough in its practical studies, and more comprehensive in its purpose, than then existed in the United States; but the students were
few both in the Medical and Academical departments, the means of
the Institution small; and the hope of success diminished, until darkness seemed to close in, upon the very eye of faith.
More means were obviously demanded to carry out the system
of instruction, and yet the ability to supply it was wanting. The
subject was patiently discussed, and -after much deliberation, a
subscription was resolved upon; a general subscription, from the community at large, such as had never been taken up by the University.
So many, and so great had been its misfortunes, and so often had the
town of Burlington come up to its aid, that it was felt, both by the
Corporation, and the friends of the College, in its vicinity, that the
prospect was not dubious, but hopeless. It was plain something must
be done, and that effectively, or the present Faculty must leave;
indeed their removal to another sphere of labor was suggested by
various parties.  A  subscription of twenty-five thousand dollars or
more, however, was resolved upon and commenced, with the peculiar
condition, that certain persons should certify its integrity when completed. This was in accordance with the whole spirit of honesty
and truthfulness, which it was intended should pervade the efforts of
all connected with it.
With the progress of this subscription, came other plans of growth.
The President was anxious to devote himself, to the higher kinds of
philosophical study, more exclusively, than the various and distracting duties of his office permitted.  HIe resigned, and took the chair of
Moral and Intellectual Philosophy, and, in accordance with his wishes,
the Rev. John Wheeler, of Windsor Vermont, was appointed President. He accepted, and entered on the duties of the office in Nov.
1833. Mr. Farrand N. Benedict, was appointed Professor of Mathematics, at the same time.
The subscription was completed; indeed it was increased beyond
the proposed amount. About thirty thousand dollars were realized
from it.  The meeting of the Corporation, in 1834, after the completion of the subscription, was one of great importance to the University.  A majority were disposed to sequester the whole subscription, or most of it, to the payment of debts, and to the support
of teachers.  Against that, it was contended, that there must be a




32                   HISTORICAL; DISCOURSE.
Library and Philosophical apparatus, and it must be manifest to the
community, that there was an honest intention to supply the means
of instruction, and not a mere profession of its desirableness.  After
strenuous debate, the conviction became general that money ought to
be appropriated for the purchase of a Library and Philosophical
apparatus, and twelve thousand dollars were assigned for that purpose.
The next topic of discussion was the condition of the Treasury.
There was no regular system of Book-keeping, there was no stock
account, there was no accurate knowledge of the indebtedness of the
University, there was no reliable knowledge of the value of the nominal assets of the Treasury.  The result of the discussion was the
appointment of Professor George W. Benedict, as Treasurer. New
books were opened, examinations of the condition of the property of
the College made, the office of the Secretary of State, and the
records of many towns, were examined, and the stock account completed, as far as could be. Both an outline, and, as far as practicable
then, a detailed account, of the property of the University, was taken,
and fully entered upon the Books.  It was the work of months.
The influence of this subscription, on the subsequent prosperity of
the University, can scarcely be overrated. It made the Institution
known, it led to a discussion of its character, of its special purposes,
and of its position for usefulness and influence.  It multiplied its
friends, it extended its influence, and it became the means of diffusing
a knowledge of Collegiate Education throughthe country, that can
scarcely be estimated now. It is to be remembered, that the whole
subject of Collegiate Education-its purpose, its means, its methods,
its influence on the professions, on industrial life, and on political and
social organizations, had been more or less discussed here, as original
topics, ab ovo. These views were spread out in lectures, in addresses,
in conversations, and the subscription was carried, by an appeal to
the instructed judgment and conscience of the community, to an extent
never before attempted. The same was substantially true of the
subscription of 1847.
The success of the subscription of 1834, changed the whole policy
in regard to the growth of the Institution.  Its instructors had been
too few to give the necessary instruction, its library was nothing,
except perhaps, a few hundred volumes.  Its philosophical apparatus
was nothing. All that had ever existed was wasted, or destroyed by
fire, except a very few books, and almost no instruments of practical




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                     33
value. The fifty acres of land, originally given by General Allen,
for the site of the College, had gone to pay agents or others, except
one acre and a half, on which the buildings now stand.  The President's house was owned by persons living in MIassachusetts, and all
the money received from the Government for the use of the College,
had gone to pay debts so old, that they were thought to be outlawed.
All this could not be without a dereliction of duty, in some quarters.
Calamity, misfortune, and the unsatisfying and wearing labor of a life
of competition with another Institution, wrought, in the end, discouragement in the agents of the College, and supineness on the part
of the Corporation.
It was resolved, in 1834, with deliberation, with firmness, and with
energy, to attempt an opposite course of policy.  The resolution
was taken, on  the  part of those  who  urged  it,  knowing
the difficulties of the case.  By the avails of the subscription, a
new instructor was added to the Faculty; a very valuable Library*
and Philosophical apparatus, costing about $14,000, were purchased;
the buildings were repaired; and pressing debts were paid.  The
Institution was thus relieved, and opportunity given to consider plans
for its future growth.  To carry these forward a financial agent was
appointed in 1836, and a subscription, in the hands of a worthy, active,
and energetic man, was commenced, under favorable auspices.  It
was determined to accomplish this, if possible, without impairing, in
the slightest degree, the power of the Faculty of instruction.  The
promise was fair, and the meansof accomplishing it, good. Misfortune, however, came.
Some of you, Gentlemen, must remember the years of 1837, 38
and 39, and their commercial calamities.  All the Banks of the
country suspended specie payments.  Many of the States repudiated
their debts, or refused the payment of any interest.  Bankruptcy was
the rule, and solvency the exception, in our cities.  The collection
of debts was an impossibility. Happy was the man, who owed
nothing, and happy was the man, who had nothing owing to him of
which he was in want.  So terrible was the calamity, that the government of the nation enacted, that any man, in any part of the country,
might write upon the lintel of his door, Bankrupt  Bankrupt! no
debts paid here!! Indeed money had vanished, and exchangeable
property was without value.  How could the community, in these
~#See note B.




34                    HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
circumstances, be appealed to in behalf of the University? It was
not possible; the plan was abandoned, for the present, and the financial agent was recalled.
The pecuniary embarassment of the country created positive distress.  The number of the Faculty had been increased, by the addition of Mr. Henry Chaney, as Adjunct Professor of Natural Philosophy and Chemistry, in 1837.  He proved an accurate teacher, and
a most efficient and active man, in the discipline of the College. His
salary increased the current expenses of the Institution; the students
also called for credit on their tuition bills to an unusual degree; the
rents were not promptly paid into the Treasury, some being withheld
by agents, and some by the remissness of tenants; and, by the failure
of individuals, some subscriptions past due could not be collected.
In this condition, the University was sued for a large debt; the present Library was attached, and advertised at a Sheriff's Sale.  On
remonstrating with the creditor, he said his necessities compelled the
act, and that he " would as soon go into the street, and expect to dig
up the money as to attempt to obtain it by borrowing, but the College
shall pay it." The money was obtained, and the Library was saved.
The College passed through that terrible commercial crisis, with a
debt of some $25,000, without having its credit dishonored, or a
dollar of its property sacrificed. Do you ask, how was this done?
We ordered the provision carts away from our doors. We sat in
our chambers, and gave thanks that vegetables were in our cellars,
and then went to our work.  " By the patience of Hope and the
labor of Love," the triumph was achieved.  But alas!  The story
of domestic care, labor, and privation of rest and of quiet, must not
be told; any one may learn some of its results, who will enter the
church yard, and read the names of those'" women, who labored
with us," for the present and future interests of the University.
During these years of pecuniary distress, the prospective growth
of the University was not for a moment forgotten.  It was obvious
that much had been done without plan, and without a clear and distinct purpose. This was either labor in vain, or secured only temporary ends. It was apparent, that no idea was distinctly entertained
of the wants and necessities of the University, which served as a definite guide for the plans or the labors of the Corporation.  A  suggestion being made to them, a resolution was passed, in 1838, requesting the Faculty to "' make' inquiry respecting the propriety of
increasing the number of University buildings, and, if they think they




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                      35
should be increased, to report their views of a plan for their increase,
and for their construction, &c.'   The subject being thus formally
brought before the Faculty, the discussion may be said to have
begun, like all the others since 1826, by considering the most fundamental view, possible to the topic.  It will surprise some to hear,
that the present site of the College was discussed, and carefully
examined.  It was resolved, if more land could not be acquired,than
the one and a half acres then owned by the College, that the most
influential power then at work for the Institution, should go, with all
its strength, for a new site. Several places in town were carefully
examined, considered, and after deliberation, adherence to the present position was determined on.  Each member of the Faculty
wrote out his own opinion, without discussion with any other person,
respecting the site of the College, respecting its prospective growth,
its demands for lands, for buildings, for departments of instruction,
&c., including, as far as might be, the general outline of accommodation for a University, as it should be.  In this plan no regard was
had to expense.  The University was considered to have a life, not
like that of a man, for a single generation, but its existence was to be
permanent, like that of the State, Nay, not like that of the State
even, for the commotion of mad parties might break that up, and
scatter its forms, by the tempest of revolution, or sink them in its
depths; and then the University would become the crystalizing point,
about which new materials would gather, and from which radiant order
would proceed. In the old world, while armies and navies, thrones
and dynasties, senates and assemblies, have been swept away by the
blasts of popular fury, or broken in pieces; amid the rocks of revolution, the Institutions of Learning have stood in the darkness, a glorious
Pharos-the light and the hope of expiring humanity. Such were the
hopes of the Faculty at this period, bound up in their idea of the
University.
The outlines of the plan'of the future growth of the Institution, were
embodied in a Report, and submitted to the Corporation, in 1839;
and approved by them, as a whole.  A  resolution was passed, declaring the desirableness, and the importance, of acquiring all the land,
within the bounds of the public roads, on which the University building now stands, which would give it some twenty acres more than its
original site. This resolution was affirmed again in 1845, and a committee appointed to effect the purchase, as far as could be, at that
time.  Although time, perhaps a generation or more, was relied on




36                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
for any thing like a completion of the plan, yet measures were taken,
and successfully commenced, to execute it. Twenty one acres of land
were purchased, and the erection of buildings was contemplated at a
future period, according to an extensive, and well digested plan; and
the outline of arrangement, for the several departments of instruction,
was more or less completed.
This year, 1839, an arrangement was made, by which, for consideration, Hon. Azariah Williams, of Concord, Vermont, tnade his
large landed estate over to the College;-the value of which cannot
be less than $25,000. Hon. Elijah Paine, of Williamstown, in the
final disposition of his property, gave $500 to the University, which
was the first legacy ever made to it. Others promised they would
do likewise, in larger amounts.  Expectations of obtaining, sooner or
later, foundations for one or more Professorships, were entertained,
and thus faith and hope were encouraged.
In 1842, the lamented death of Dr. James Marsh occurred, which
threw a gloom over the Institution, and for a period called for greater
labors in teaclhing, on the part of the Faculty. This, with the changes
which took place in the Treasury department, and the preceding
commercial embarrassment of the country, retarded the commencement of the subscription of 1847. In the meantime, Prof. Torrey
was elected to the chair of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy, in the
place of Dr. Marsh; and the Rev. Calvin Pease was elected to
that of the Latin and Greek languages.  In 1845, Rev. W. G. T.
Shedd was elected Professor of English Literature, under the impression that a foundation was secured for his permanent support;
of which, however, the University was disappointed.  The subscription was commenced with the general intention of raising $100,000,
conditioned on raising $50,000 by March 1, 1847.  The $50,000
was subscribed.  Amid the different opinions, which rose immediately after that, the subscription was not carried forward, though at one
period, $17,000 was conditionally subscribed.
In August of 1847, Professor George W. Benedict resigned
his situation, as Professor of Chemistry and Natutial History, and retired from the active service of the University. His loss was deeply
felt.  He had been twenty two years in the Institution, He had
stood by the smouldering ashes of the first College building. He had
been the most active and energetic man in completing the new.  He
was teacher, he was agent, he was superintendent.  He planned the
subscription of 1834? and was the general agent in accomplishing it.




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE..37
He was appointed Treasurer, and brought light out of darkness, and
order out of confusion.  He planned, in a comprehensive manner, for
the University, and he spent time, and money, and strength without
stint, for its interests. Grateful feelings are due to him from every
Alumnus, and from every friend of education, in the State.
There had long been a feeling, among liberal minded men, in the
State, that great benefits would accrue, in various ways, to the cause
of learning and of religion, if there could be a harmonious union
between the University and Middlebury College. The feeling was
strengthened, about this period, by the pecuniary embarrassments of
both institutions, and by the knowledge, that the whole State of Vermont furnished, but about one hundred and seventy five students, at
the Colleges within her borders, and at the other Colleges of New
England.  There could, therefore, be no necessity for the two.  A
plan of union was mutually considered by committees of the two Corporations, and. hopes were entertained of its final accomplishment. It
was unexpectedly prevented, by reasons, which are thought to belong
to the details of the subject; and which ought.not to have prevailed
against the public reasons, which will always call for the accomplishment of so desirable an object.
In August 1848, President Wheeler resigned, and in June 1849,
the Rev. Worthington Smith, D. D. of St. Albans, Vermont, was
appointed to the office, and entered upon its duties. Discussion, on the
financial situation of the University, led to opening a subscription for
$30,000, on the condition of obtaining at least $15,000.  By indefatigable exertions, more than the $15,000 has been subscribed.
And, at this time, the University has assets, which will free it
from all indebtedness without the sacrifice of a mill of its present
property.
The system of instruction, set forth in the pamphlet issued in 1831,
has been spoken of.  But the most remarkable feature of it has not
been alluded to.  It is the Course of study there shadowed forth, and
which subsequent years brought out into the fulness of a comparatively completed system.  The principal divisions, or departments, of
a course of Collegiate study, are set forth in the Laws of the University. They are foui'; first the department of English Literature;
second, the department of Languages; third, that of the Mathematics
and Physics; fourth, that of Political, Moral, and Intellectual Philos-.ophy.  Every year, during my personal connection with the University, the synopsis was carefully examined, always in reference to
5




38                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
its practical execution, and commonly in reference also to its theoretic
excellence. How much this means, and involves, few can understand, who were not members of the Faculty.  If this course of study
is carefully examined, it will be found to contain, perhaps, what no
other course of Collegiate study in the United States has so fully attempted.  It seeks to give a coherence to the various studies, in
each department, so that its several parts shall present, more or less,
the unity, not of an aggregation, nor of a juxtaposition, nor of a merely
logical arrangement, but of a natural development, and a growth; and
therefore the study of it, rightly pursued, would be a growing and
enlarging process, to the mind of the student.  It was intended also,
that these departments of study should have a coherence, of greater
or less practical use, with each other.  The highest department,
that of Philosophy, it was intended, should be, now  the oscillating
nerve, that should connect the various studies together, during the
analytical instruction in each; and now the embosoming atmosphere,
that should surround and interpenetrate the whole, and each, in its
synthetical teachings.  In Philosophy, the course began with crystal.
lography-the lowest form of organization-and discussed the laws of
all forms, that is, the geometry of all material existence. It proceeded
to the laws of vegetable life, as the next highest; to the laws of
animal life, that is, to Physiology, as the next; thence to Psychology, and the connection of the senses with the intellect;-thence to
the Science of Logic,-the laws of the intellect,-in the acquisition and
in the communication of knowledge, that is, the laws of Universal
thought as seen in language, and grammar; and thence to Meta.
physics, as the highest and last form  of speculative reasoning, or
of contemplation. Within this pale it considered the spiritual characteristics of humanity, as distinguished from all other existences.
From this position Moral Science was seen to issue; the ground of
the Fine Arts was examined, and made intelligible; the principles of
Political Science, as grounded in the truths of the reason, but realized
under the forms of the understanding, was unfolded; and Natural and
Revealed Religion was shown to open the path, where reason had
reached her termination, to glory, honor and immortality.
An ideal theory of education a I hear some one say.  True, it is
so.  But every theory is ideal, and every institution of learning,
which has not a distinct and intelligible theory, on which its practice
is grounded, and by which it is conducted, does little else, than make
a series of empirical experiments.  And were it not for the unifying




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                      39
power of the mind, by which it often subjects its materials to its own
law, in despite of the destitution of intellectual method, in its teachers,
such an Institution would give knowledge without orderly arrangement,
and teach science without the insight of scientific law.  But in the
ideal theory here set forth, every step enlarges the horizon of knowledge; and at the same time, the compass of vision to embrace it;every landing place, in the system, on which the mind pauses, enables it to comprehend all below it, and to see the ladder reaching
up to the scaffolding above.  And as the student ascends, in the
temple of science, from story to story, he may go forth from  all, or
from any one, on an errand of practical utility; but he will return
with a reverent knowledge, that there are higher things still in store,
than are dreamed of amidst the mere utilities of the hour.  To the objection, which has been urged against this scheme of study, that it is
too profound and too comprehensive for the average capacity of
students, it can be truthfully replied, that all study, in its deep principles, and in its infinite rarnifications, is too profound and too comprehensive for the average capacity of young men, for the time given
to it in College, but that is no reason why they should not be taught
what of systematic outline pertains to them as men, and as scholars,
with such various knowledge in filling up the outline, as their circumstances, and their capacity, will permit. How imperfectly this outline
is apprehended, and with what meagre acquisitions, it is often filled, no
one, alas! knows so well as those, who have conscientiously labored, to
do the best in their power, to perfect their system of education.  But
practically it has not been found true here, (the Records of examination show it,) that less is learned, and that the mind is weakened, and
made superficial, by conceptions of profound learning, which is
systematic, or by anyknowledge, which is ever ascendingto its unity, in
the spiritual world.  The system of study here has certainly proved a
strong antidote against that heartless and reckless scepticism, which so
often besets young minds, on morals and religion, because they are
taught no pure and healthful speculation, having the clearness and the
force of scientific order, on these and kindred subjects.  Many of
you, Gentlemen, can bear witness to the serious and solemn views,
which have arrested your minds, and awakened your deepest moral
feelings, as the profoundest speculations in Politics, Art, Morals
and Religion have been unfolded. How often has your attention been
seized, your  reverent admiration  excited, and  at times your
devout  submission  produced.   This  called  for a  degree  of




40                   HISTORICAL DISCOURSE,
familiar personal converse with students, of a kind which the Faculty
had notfound in the Institutions with which they were acquainted, and
which was not supposed to exist, to the same extent, elsewhere. Minds
were stimulated, difficulties met and obviated, moral and religious
purposes awakened, by private discussion, and in the fireedom of personal intercourse, which prepared, in some degree, the students for
those views of truth, which the system of study was intended to complete.
May God grant, that the power of such truths, and the influence of,
such labors may never be less, within the bosom of your Alma Mater!
It need scarcely be added, that all schemes of partial or incomplete
study were rejected,after discussion by the Faculty, unless regarded as exceptions.  An education for the public service was
intended to embrace a knowledge, not of this or of that study
exclusively, as of the Ancient Languages, of the Mathematics,
of Natural Philosophy, of civil engineering &c., but of all kinds
of knowledge, which the public possessed, or had need of. Humanity
is not upheld in its progress towards its perfection by the knowledge of any one day or generation, but by the knowledge that all generations have treasured up, in its permanentinstitutions of learning. The
University represents the culture of the race-the culture of the race
in all time-and it falls short of its purpose, if it does not do this in the
comprehensive outline of its completed system of study. The greatest
and the best minds of the race have occupied their choicest thoughts,
and exhibited their highest attainments, in all the varieties of human
culture, and either a knowledge of the universal mind, in its fundamental forms of action, must be rejected, and the education become
partial and incomplete, or each branch of study must be known by an
acquaintance with the principles, which are at its foundation. Nothing
less than this merits the name of a public education.
In the light of these views, the new schemes of education in
several of our Colleges, and higher Institutions of learning, were carefully examined, and understandingly rejected.  In these discussions
and examinations, I need not say that Dr. James Marsh bore a most
prominent part; that to his profound thinking, his various reading,
and his rare powers both of analysis and of combination, the University
is more indebted, than to any single one, for the scientific character of
its system of education, and for the generous and genial manner in
which it was carried out, during his life. His death greatly weakened
both the unity, and the power of the Faculty, but the System of instruction remained.   The savor of his example and the atmosphere




HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.                       41
of his affectionate life, still linger here, like the mellow radiance of the
Zodiacal light, as it streams up, and spreads itself over the western sky.
Thus, Gentlemen of the Alumni, I have given a rapid, and very
imperfect sketch of the history of the University of Vermont. More of
detail, I could not give in the time allowed me, and less, I knew not
how to give.  The probation, which it has passed through, has been
like a Baptism of fire. It has come forth not unscathed, but, we hope,
purified, and fit for the service of the church, and for the service of
the State.  Great and good men labored for it, in the beginning, as
the crowning glory of the new  commonwealth.  It was projected,
and completed, and carried onward, as part and parcel of the essential
means of a civilization, which should not be barbaric; and of a culture, which should be christian.  It shared in the charities and the
sympathies of all, who sought the moral and intellectual growth of the
rising generation, and has been transmitted to us, not mainly, as a
common inheritance from  the wealth of our fathers, but as the far
richer legacy of their wisdom, and of their parental affection.  To
your minds, nay to your hearts, it is the symbol of the presence of
their spirit, garnered up to a life beyond their life, and uttering, as
from an ancient fane, the burning words of Truths,
That perish never!
As such, Gentlemen, we commit this Lamp of Light to your hands,
not to care, for its outward appearance, so much as for its spirit and
inward power; not to be its daily, or its annual Curators, but the guardians of the living stream of its enduring life. We cry unto you now,
and evermore,
ilere flammam!




42                          HISTORICAL DISCOURSE.
NOTE A.
The following is a copy of the original petition of Gen. Allen to the Legislature of
Vermont, for a charter for the University.
To His Excellency the Governor, the Honorable Council and House of Representatives of the
State of Vermont, to convene at Westminster, in October next.
The memorial of Ira Allen, humbly sheweth, that as early education is necessary for
the promotion of virtue and for the happiness of civil society, and tends to render
a people or nation respectable, by disseminating useful knowledge among youth:
And as the establishment of Schools, Colleges and Academies of Arts and Sciences
for that purpose has been patronized by all well regulated governments, and is an object
that has claimed the attention of the Legislature of this State; The sooner the Legislature establish the place for a College and appoint Trustees to receive Donations, take
care of the public Lands, prepare materials for building, &c., the better. Doubtless
many donations may be obtained in new lands now, that can't be had in a future day;
the lands sequestered by the State or given by individuals, by settlement and by attention may be made more valuable, and earlier subservient to the public weal.
The place to erect this edifice will no doubt claim the attention of the Legislature,
and raise different questions on the subject.
Having honorable views towards the public; and having a desire to make the place I
have chosen for my residence, respectable by the establishment of Liberal Arts and
Sciences, I therefore name Burlington for that purpose; being situate on the Lake
shore, it has a most pleasant prospecttogether with the advantage of an inland navigation,
where the waters are clear and beautiful, the soil dry and good for building or gardens 
the best of spring water may be brought in pipes to every part of the plain.
Buildings can be erected cheap, as all kinds of materials necessary for that purpose
may be had within two miles, except Marble-stone, which may be had cheap, the land
carriage being but half a mile. Roads from the back country may conveniently center
at this Bay, being about one hundred miles from Dartmouth College, and from its local
situation in respect to the Province of Quebec, and northern part of the State of New York,
where there are no Colleges; it is therefore, reasonable to suppose considerable donations may be had; besides establishing a regular seminary of learning in this place
would annually draw cash from the neighboring Province and States.
Having further to observe, that the lands reserved for the use of a College are mostly
in the northerly part of the State, and may be disposed of for an annual rent in produce,
on much better terms, than to pay gold and silver, or deliver produce at a greater distance.
That so great an object may soon be affected, I offer to the public four thousand
pounds on the following conditions, (viz,) that the Legislature at their next session in
Westminster, establish the place for erecting a College in this State at or within two
miles of Burlington Bay, in the County of Chittenden, and appoint Trustees for the same.
I bind myself; my heirs, executors and administrators, firmly by these presents, to pay
to the Trustees of said College the said sum of four thousand pounds, one thousand of
which is to be paid in a proper square of lands sufficient to erect all the public buildings
on, to form a handsome green and convenient gardens for the officers of College, the price
of this tract of land to be estimated by the major part of said Trustees, and the remaining
part of said thousand pounds is to be paid to said Trustees in provisions, materials and
labor in erecting the Public Buildings; the remaining three thousand pounds to be paid
to the said Trustees in new lands that will rent in produce, that is Wheat, Beef, Pork,
Butter or Cheese, payable to the Trustees of said College for the annual interest at six
per cent of said three thousand pounds.
IRA ALLEN.
Dated at Colehester, September 16th, 1854.




IISTORICAL  DISCOURSE.                               43
Besides the large subscription of General Allen, subscriptions of a surprisingly liberal
character were obtained in Charlotte, Shelburne, Williston, Colchester, Milton, Jericho,
Georgia, St. Albans, and from sundry individuals in other places. These amounted to
~1,650 in addition to Gen. Allen's. The various subscriptions are in his hand writing,
and were all obtained by his active and personal attention to the business.
It was intended to append a list of the various subscriptions, to this, or a subsequent
note, but it has been found impossible to do it, without such omissions as would be a
seeming injustice to many of the benefactors.
NOTE B.
The manner of selecting and procuring the Library, is worthy of more special note, than
could be taken of it, in the public address. It was a work of labor,  All the catalogues,
which could be then obtained, were procured, both from  Booksellers, and from  large
private collections of books, I-Iaving obtained these, the first thing done was to divide
the ideal Library into various subjects or departments, as Philology, Ancient Languages,
Antiquities, Art, Geography, Philosophy, Natural HIIstory, Mathematics, &c., &c., that no
important subject might be omitted. There were twenty seven of these divisions. It was
then determined that only those books should be selected, so far as possible, on these
various subjects, which marked eras in the progress of knowledge in them, and which therefore, must be mainly the productions of original minds. The catalogues were then
examined, and marked by the Faculty individually; and those marked, were then
brought forward for mutual discussion, and having passed that, were entered upon a
common record. The same process took place in the reading of each member of the
Faculty. He brought his weekly catalogue, it was discussed, and what was deemed
worthy was placed upon the record. This was continued for months. From this a
catalogue was made, according to subjects; and then it was submitted to distinguished
scholars for examination and criticism, in regard to the particular subjects with which
they were most familiar; as Dr. Robinson in Philology, Dr. Bowditch in Mathematics,
&c., &c. A catalogue being thus completed, the books were marked, according to their
relative value and importance, for such a Library, 1, 2, 3; and direction was given, that
all of numbers 1 and 2, should be purchased; and as many of number 3 as the funds,
which were limited, would permit. The purchases were made by Professor Joseph Torrey,
than whom a more suitable person could not have been found, Nearly 7000 volumes were
procured, at about one dollar and twenty five cents a volume. The funds were most
economically and most judiciously expended. The University became possessed of a
Library, which, at that period, was not equalled for the purposes of such an Institution,
in the United States, with perhaps the exception of that at hIarvard. How incomplete it
was, for all the purposes of the most profound and erudite scholars few knew better, than
those, who with regret had drawn their pen over the name of many an author, because of
the res angusta domi.








OURl LESSON AND OUR WORK
OR
SPIRITUAL PHILOSOPHY AND MATERIAL POLITICS,
AN ORATION,
JAMES 1t. SPALDING,




And the king answered the people roughly. * * * Saying my father made your yoke
heavy, and I will add to your yoke; my father chastised you with whips, but I will
chastise you with scorpions. *' * So Israel rebelled against the house of David unto thW
day. —1 Kings, Chapter XII.
Tw3v  c&&5v a"pac'rp&g~wv xapiv &sraov   vc'rv I eMXirv x jv xcivojvcv, CXX' oU TOU
4yv~v.                                      ARISTOTLE, HloJT~IX v.
Book III, Chapter IX.
Sed hoc verissimum esse, sine summa justitia rem publicam geri nullv modo posse.CICERo de Republica. —Book 11, Chapter XLIII.
E che il monarca massime sia disporto all' operazione della giustizia, nessuno dubita.
* $ * Cosi, l'umana generazione quando e massime libera, ottimamente vive,-DANTE,
Della Monarchia, Book I.
La justice sans la force est impuissante; la puissance sans la justice est tyrannique.PASCAL, Pensees.
At the annunciation of principles, of ideas, the soul of man awakes and starts up, as
an exile in a far distant land at the unexpected sounds of his native languages when
after long years of absence and almost of oblivion, he is suddenly addressed in his own
mother tongue.-COLERIaDGE, Statesman's Manual.
-to the end that it may be a government of laWs, and not of men -Xassach setto
BUll of Rights~




ORATION.
BRETHIREN OF ONE ALMA MATER:
I come not from the grove, but the camp; not in toga, but with spear
and shield.  You are men of strife, and my talk shall be of war.  You
have gathered for a jubilee. Joy fitly rules the hour-not the joy begotten
of Zephyr and Aurora, the frolic wind and the fleeting dawn, nor that other
joy, ivy-crowned and thyrsus-waving, attended by the loves and courted with
Lydian airs, but the joy of true manhood, the joy of courage and conscious
strength, of faith and hope, the high calm joy that warriors feel in view of
battles fought and victories won. You have mustered from far and near
over the wide reach of our country-from  city, town, and hamlet, from
vale, hill-side, and plain. You are back once more on the spot whence
you started in the great campaign of life-on the soil that you quit in your
morning march "with a front which the Greek had directed towards the
stars, and a step which imperial Rome had disciplined to the tread that
carried her eagles round the world." There is gladness in your glance;yet we may not forget the unreturning brave; those who went forth with us
into the world's fight, some falling ere their prime, others bearing on till
their sun was set and their rest thoroughly earned. Their forms have
vanished; their voices are hushed; the violets are on their graves. But
their memories so long as we live cannot die; those memories are with us
now, and give to the day a softer, tenderer, hue. Their images are by the
hearth-stone of our Alma Mater, and both brighten and sadden it with the
pensive gleam of their departed lives. They were our elder and our younger
foster-brothers, the objects of common love and care, knit to us by a
kindred nurture, and fired with kindred hopes and aims. The old faces, the
old books, the old waters and mountains were familiar to them as to us.
Their hearts like ours were attuned to classic strains; their minds like ours




48                        0OR AT I  N 
were attempered by rigid science; their souls like ours were illumined with
a pure philosophy.  Were they with us to-day they would walk with us in
thought and feeling; pay, could their spirits commune with ours, this air
would be vocal with their echoes from beyond the grave.  They are gone,
and yet pot gone; for back in the morning's golden haze we see their faces
yet, still2 clear, youthful, and brightly solemn. There is no one here, with
a heart pot grown utterly cold and hard, who can stand amid these scenes, so
eloquept in association, and not miss some comrade of his college days, with
whom his better memory would love to linger.  It cannot be that any here
remembers none thus worthy of his soul!s regard.  There is no household
that has not mourned some dead Mlarcellus; no brotherhood that has not
laid some of its princely ones in the grave. Through all time, it has been
the sad cry of humanity, that it is soonest bereft of its worthiest and its
dearest; that in this world of sin and shame, having so much nead of its
strongest and its purest ones, the fairest promise is earliest doom, Our
Alma Mater has thus lost many of the sons she hoped of most. But we,
worn in the world, have no bitter tears to shed, nor threnody to sing, for
them to-day, for we feel they went from earth when the heart was fresh and
the bosom young, ere the spirit had become soiled with the dust or cankered with the mildew of life, ere anticipation had given way to disappointment or aspiring hours been succeeded by desponding years. And yetand yet, returning to this old home, coming whence we may, whether from
the thorny rugged track of duty or from  mazes flowery yet inglorious, we
will bear to these some offering of our love. Warring or wandering, covered
with the dust of a weary upward beleaguered march, or with the rank vapors
of benighted paths and forbidden wilds, we will yet; all bring chaplets for
the brows of our householdcl.dead.
And chief of all, will we honor that sainted man of whose fond care so
many of us had experience; who strove to lead us, in the wild pride of our
youthful blood, to the great oracles of Truth, and to teach us to be humble
and to be wise; who toiled to make us love goodness, and, in his own life,
showed us how lovely goodness is. We cannot this day forego some tribute
of filial reverence. We have none of us, I fear, attained the fullness and
glory of the culture he sought to give, or raised ourselves to the high level
of his impregnable faith and serene purity; but still I trust that many of you
ypt bear the marks of' his moulding power in the fairer shape and firmer fibre of




O R A T I 0 N                           49
your spiritual manhood, and have thereby been able to struggle more stoutly
and more successfully with the world.  To such a benefactor we owe a
most sacred debt of gratitude.  Others might garnish the coil that surrounds our souls, but it was for him to contribute to the soul itself.  Others
might embellish life, but he added to our life, infulsing principles and purposes which made life more ample, more intense, and more exalted —re-inforcing it with a new might, by calling up po;wers, which else had lain in the
depths of our being unmissed and unknown.  I cannot-none here callestimate the influence of such an earnest, deep-minded, truth-loving man upon
us, at that trying stage when our boyish gristle was hardening into the bone
of manhood. I cannot tell how much that influence did towards ennobling our
intellects and our wills, giving insight, giving strength, inspiring hope
and  fear, love  for high aims and scorn of base deeds, daring and
endurance, gentleness and charity, devotedness and loyalty, truthfulness and
reverence, and all those high qualities which fit men to be militant here on
the ear:th.  I cannot reckon this, but, I am persuaded, there are many
among you whose daily lives testify of it all. Of other venerated masters
I may not speak, for they are with us, and of us now. But the very day
would reprovch me, did I not give free course to the glory east back upon
it by him our greatest, who bore himself so calmly up the long steep and
walked from our sight into
-    the shining table-lands,
To which our God himself is moon and sun.
Yet, what though we have such proud and precious rermembrances, —-this is
a natal day, and I have to speak to living men, of living things.  Our
University is a power in this moving world.  Though half a century old,
and the achiever of many noble things, it is yet but in its youth.  It has
had, as you have heard so worthily rehearsed, its trials and its triumphs;
but it is not these which ma ke it so high-hearted to-day.  Its joy comes
from its grown stature, its developed strength, its knitted confidence.  Its
joy comes from its conscious ability to bear a signal part in this struggling
age.  I shall best vindicate its worth by declaring what that signal part is;
by showing how it is that its mould and temper qualify it for royal service
in these contentious times.
A yearning for civil freedom  and social development-a yearning deep,
vehement, and oft-times violent-gives strange mark to the age.  It is




50                         0RATION~
a0                         O R A T I O N 
peculiar to no order of intellect, or school of morals, or scale of society.  Be
it a principle or a passion, be it a reality or a mockery, be it from GOD or
from the Evil One, it has taken possession of the souls of men.  Classify it
you may not; measure it you cannot; yet it is none the less the most active
force of the century. It has produced thirty civil revolutions within the last
fifty years.  It has banished kings, extinguished dynasties, pushed empires
a thousand years old to the verge of destruction, put the Supreme Pontiff to
flight, planted popular banners upon every palace and Valhalla on the continent this side of Russia, trumpeted through Europe ideas such as before
were hardly lisped there above a whisper, evoked new races into life, summoned constituent assemblies, framed constitutions, convoked parliaments,
levied taxes, debated questions of peace or war, commanded armies; has
been deceived, blinded, overcome, brought to the dust, and yet is, this very
day, farther from death than ever. It will rise again in some form. It
will rise not only by virtue of its own inherent energy, but because in this
period of time despair is short-lived, and because the strongest of the old
helpers of Brute Force are dead or dying. Feudalism  is dead, the divine
right of kings is dead, patrician prestige is dead, papal infallibility is dead,
tradition is dead, superstition is dead; military conquest is dying, foreign
intervention is dying, the balance of power is dying, diplomatic craft is dying.
The spirit of change will struggle again.  Every man who has a life to live
in this nineteenth century has an interest in this struggle.  We here are not
on its immediate field, and yet must more or less participate in its fortunes,
Human hearts have their affinities.and mutual influences, which distance
cannot dissipate or difference in outward circumstances neutralize. Ideas
too, in these times, are winged; and, whether good or evil, they find, fly
where they may, principles and aims germane to, if not identical with, those
they serve in the land of their origin, or at least the conditions out of which
-such principles and aims may spring. They are as sure everywhere of the
same human nature as of the same ambient atmosphere.  Our race is of one
blood, and has one destiny.  There is none here so vile as not to care for
it.  Neutrality is impossible.  Where then does it become us, the sns of
this institution, to stand?
That which more thaon all else pecul6iarises our Alma Mater is her special
inculcation of a spiritual, as opposed to a material, philosophy.  Herenotable as are the unity and symmetiy of her whole plan of instruction



O R A T I O N                           5
lies her paramount distinction. Her philosophical training differs from that
of most of her sister colleges in kind, and from that of all, either in kind or
degree. Now it is precisely this part of education which operates most
vitally upon personal character. The classics address themselves particularly
to our understanding, our imagination, and our tastes; the mathematics to
our abstract reason, our perceptive and our logical powers; but philosophy
to the highest part of our humanity, our moral nature.  It is the part of the
others to develop, strengthen, sharpen, and polish our faculties; the part of
this to give them light and direction.  The others do not impose new duties,
or afford new conceptions of duty; this does both;-if we intelligently
accept it, and are true men, it commits us for life to certain leading principles and certain inspiring motives.  Now I maintain that, however it may
be with the graduates of other institutions, the faithful alumni of this University are bound to take the side of the inherent Rights of Man against
the vested Rights of Power, and to contend for the same with a wise circumspection indeed, but wit/h inextinguishable faith  and  unfaltering
courage.
The absolute unconditional character of Right and Wrong, the inborn,
inalienable supremacy of Conscience, the free, self-determining power of the
Will, Man's instinctive sense of God Freedom and Immortality, and the
moral necessity of a believing spirit —these, if you are true to your education, are your vital convictions. They contravene that material system which
makes utility the ground of good and evil, and generalizes primary principles and motives from the visible world and outward experience. They
imply the divine origin of man; and they also imply his possession of rights,
and subjection to duties, which came from  heaven, and with which nothing
under heaven can justly interfere.  Believing that Right and Wrong are
eternal, unchanging verities, that they are authoritatively declared and enjoined by Conscience, and that you have a Will able to submit to them or
revolt against them, you are obliged to believe in your own indefeasible and
unconditional responsibility, in your absolute title to every outward means.
which will enable you to meet that responsibility, and in your own duty to,
make use, and the best use, of those means.  Believing that you brought
the spiritual ideas of God moral freedom and immortality with you into,
the world, you are obliged to believe in your spiritual extraction; therefore
in the sacredness and dignity of your soul, however much that soul may




52                            R A T IORATION
have been brought under the bondage of a sinful nature; therefore in the
right of yourself and your race to aspire. Believing in the moral necessity
of a believing spirit, you are obliged to believe in the moral necessity of
Faith and of Hope which are its offspring.   Such being your position, you
stand committed to the right of every individual to fulfil his own individual
capacity as a moral being, to that political morality which is derived
from eternal right and not from temporary expediency, and in favor of such
civil and social arrangements as shall best secure these ends and furnish
firmest ground for high expectation and generous endeavor.
In judging of government, you have —what many others have not-a
settled starting point, a distinct criterion, an actualizing idea, the right of
the individual to order all his relations'With freedom according to Reason.
This inviolability of what is truly the divine in man is a primary and predominant principle in regulating the organization of society and determining the
power of the State.  Obstaclesi disturbing forces of many kinds, may exist,
and indeed have always existed, to divert and retard the operation of this
principle; but the principle itself remains the same. We do not in the
least impair its validity by considering the State a divine institution.  The
State is so in a certain sense, for otherwise it could not have divine sanctions; but it is so only because it is first accredited by the divine signature
in the soul of the individual. The State a divine institution, like the Sabbath a divine ordinance, was made for man, and not man for the State.
When the power of the State is turned against man, when it opposes his
rights and duties as a creature of God, that power is justly forfeited. It is
this which makes tyranny, and therein only is it true that " Resistance to
tyrants is obedience to God." Here lies the real moral justification of revolution. A people has no right to rebel against any mere form of government, but only against the tyranny with which that form is administered.
The form in itself is never destructive of man's essential rights, and never
contrary to the divine law; the tyranny always is. While then the form is
not to be resisted on its own account, the tyranny may be so resisted and
be justly supplanted, not only itself, but the form with it, if by such means
alone security may be obtained. This ultimate resource comes naturally
and inevitably from our system of philosophy. Believing that Right is absolute, that the human conscience is its interpreter and the human will owes
it entire obedience, we believe in the moral power of opposing, and if need




O RA T  ON                               5
be overthrowing, the State's authority when arrayed against it.  We, I say,
must believe in this moral power. I go further and say that we alone can
consistently believe it.  On the one hand, he who substitutes papal infallibility for the supremacy of the human conscience is bound to trust the final
vindication of his rights to the papacy alone.  He is bound-as the Abbe
Rohrbacher says, in his Universal History of the Catholic Church, and as
Mr. Brownson repeats,-to believe that " all which regards the law of God,
conscience, eternal salvation, the whole world, nations and individuals,
sovereigns and subjects, are subordinated to the power of the Church and of
her Chief, and that in all that which interests conscience, civil legislation is
subordinated to the legislation of the Catholic Church."  Therefore the
right of revolution cannot exist except as the Pope dispenses it.  The Pope
alone can create allegiance, and the Pope alone destroy.  This has been the
claim of the Holy See from Hildebrand down; and, though not recognized
by many of the modern Catholic Powers, it is logically inseparable from the
theory of the Papal infallibility and vicegerency.  On the other hand, he
who believes in the materialistic utilitarian philosophy, who imagines that
self-interest alone  creates the  ground  and  substance  of his rela.
tions to. government, has no right of revolution at all; for right cannot exist
without moral sanction, and lmoral sandtion call no more spring from material interest on the part of the subject, than it can from  material power on
the part of the rulerRepelling then, as we do, the conscience-transferring scheme on the one
side and the conscience-ignoring scheme on the other, we recognize and
uphold both the right and the duty of resistance against tyranny-yea, resistance to the point Of committing treason against the government, rather
than do treason to the God above us, and his image within us.  The time,
the mode, and the means of exercising this right and performing this duty,
it is for the practical understanding to determine, and may indeed excite
honest dispute; but the absolute existence of the right and duty is no more
to be called in question by us than the absoluteness of the Reason and the
Conscience.
This is not a thing of air, or a thing in the air.  It is not a barren
abstraction, but the most teeming of all realities. It is the great central
political truth, to which all other political truths are to be referred, and by
which their truthfulness is-to be tested. Political history is to be judged by




54                         O R A T I O PN.
it, political precedents and terms. By it we correctly apprehend how it is
that the State is a divine institution.  It is divine as a divine instrumentality, not because the shape it bears, or the arm that directs it, is divine. It is
divine because God meant through it to secure the divine rights of his creatures
subject to it, and to that end, and that alone, lent itdivine powers any sanctions.
There is no such thing as the divine right of kings to govern wrong; any more
than there is a divine right of subjects to do wrong. Unjust government is as
unwarrantable as unjust rebellion. To talk of liberties, as distinguished from
rights, is to talk amiss. The word is a pagan one, and its primary idea is a
pagan idea.  Quod principi placuerit legis habet vigorem, was the Roman
idea of law, and liberty consisted in the power of doing that which was not
forbidden by law. The word was used in a similar sense in the divine-right
theory of the middle ages, the only difference being, that, whereas in the one
case it applied to what the prince chose not to take, in the other it applied
to what he chose to give. The idea in both cases was the same-that liberties come from grace, not right, from the gracious pleasure of prerogative,
not from the rightful claims of humanity. This idea was never the idea of
our British ancestors, though their political nomenclature, since the Norman
conquest, seems often to accord with it. The Magna Charta was no Charter
at all, for it granted nothing. It was simply the relinquishment at the point
of the sword, of rights belonging to, and. once exercised by, the barons, the
church and the people, and usurped by the king. The transaction was not
a charter, but a pledge. So too of the Petition of Right under Charles II;
it was called a petition of Right, but it was in reality, as the facts testify, a
reclamation of right, and was obtained not on grace but by compulsion.
The so-called  abdication of James II, was no abdication  at all; it
was a deposition, effected by force and grounded as the sturdy Parliament of Scotland had the consistency, at the time, to declare, on forfeiture. I do not deny that the Roman idea of law has lived through all
English history; or that the collision between the arbitrary principles
growing out of it and the principles springing from the idea of Law as " the
perfection of Reason"-I use the definition of Lord Coke,-has given rise to
aberrations, inconsistencies, anomalies, and absurdities without number. The
Roman idea is in England yet, and in daily action too. Yea, I find it in our
own country also. I recognize it, when I hear a distinguished statesman
declare, " that is property which the law makes property>" and talk of what




O RA T I O N                            55
"( two hundred years of legislation have sanctioned and sanctified." I recognize it when I see attempts to justify the seizure of foreign territory by
considerations of national aggrandisement and a manifest destiny.  I recognize, it most palpably of all, in the denial that there is a higher law than
human law, and in the assertion that conscience is subject to civil authority.
The extent to which the discussion of the Fugitive Slave Law was made to
turn on the supremacy of conscience, rather than on the allowableness of the
law by conscience and the proper mode of meeting it if not allowable, surprisingly showed the force of the Roman idea among our politicians and
people.  The purpose which the idea is made to serve here is not just the
same as in England. There it is used to uphold unjust class interests; here
to advance unjust popular interests; there to sacrifice majorities to minorities, here to sacrifice minorities to majorities; there to protect what is
wrong; here  to extend what is wrong; there  to  assist unrighteous
conservatism, here  to  assist unrighteous progress.    It is powerful
in  both countries; it is supreme, I trust, in neither.   Whatever
hold it may have upon others, take what shape it may, it can
have none upon us.  Secure in the truth that civil government is first of
all the guardian of the personal rights of men, as beings of Reason and Free
Will and individual accountability to God, and that no authority which has
no moral source and no moral criterion can be morally binding, the dogma
of prerogative which puts a man at the mercy of popes, monarchs or
oligarchs, and the dogma of the supremacy of " the greatest happiness of
the greatest number" which puts a man at the mercy of the mass, are both
to us as idle wind.
The inviolability of the rational attributes of the individual is, then, a
principle notably our own. It is an ultimate principle, never to be given
up or kept out of sight. It affects the development of the highest faculties
of man and their exercise in this world, and therefore is of the utmost
human consequence; and all civil and social institutions ought to be, if not
normally shaped in reference to it, at least practically conducted in consis.
tency with it.
I do not speak to you as absolutists or as democrats to-day, but as philosophic Christian men. I do not ask you to believe, with Metternich, that
government derives its just powers from itself, or with Jefferson, that it derives its just powers from the consent of the governed. I believe one as




t5o'6                      0 R A T I 0 N 
little as the other.  Just powers are derived from justice alone, and justice
comes only from God. The governor has no just power to act against God,
neither have the governed; and no  I consent of the governed" can convey
such a power.  Both governors and governed are subject to the same
eternal law of Right.  If both regard it, let there be no complaint; if the
governor regard it, and not the governed, let him  rule, and with a rod of'
iron if need be; if the governed regard it, and not the governor, let them
deprive him of power, if there be no other remedy; if neither regard it, or
be disposed to regard it, let there be no hope. Am I asked who is to apply
the test of this conformity or non-conformity to the law of Justice? I might
answer conditionally  and  say that it is for the ruler to apply  it
or for thle ruled, whichever is best accredited by the voice of Conscience and
the spirit of Truth.  But I have a nmore positive reply.  I say that you are
to apply it; and not only this but that you are bound to apply it, and trust
its application to no other authority on the globe.  You, you, in the sovereignty of your own nature, are to arraign State policies before your own
reason and conscience, and, in the name of our common humanity, on your
own individual responsibility, are to pronounce judgment.  You, as enlightened, just, and Christian men, are to contribute your part towards that
enlightened, just, and christian public opinion, which is becoming the controlling power in the administration of the civil and social affairs of the
world.  Born, and trained, to be in all points men, you cannot, without
treachery to your race, escape this duty, even if you would. They tell us, in
their smart phrase, that we are not responsible for the obliquity of the world's
axis.  If they mean the moral world-and they must mean that, or mean
nothing — I say we are.  It is certain that this world can never be made
right, or even set toward the right, without the joint efforts of men who
know what right is; and every such man on the globe, wherever he may
be, is bound, in his moral strength, to give the right his support.
What, then, is our position and our duty in reference to the two great policies that have been struggling for the mastery of continental Europe? Are we
on the side of perpetuity or on the side of change? However it may be with
others, the question for us is already settled.  We cannot make terms with
the system that now rules.   Let what may come, this must end,  It must
end not because it is monarchical in form, but because it is despotic in act;
not even because it has arbitrarily swept away charters and constitutions,




0 R A T I O N o                          57
but because it has put constraint upon the highest attributes of man. From
the Gibraltar to the Ural, Reason and Conscience are denied utterance.  It
is an astounding fact, that in this nineteenth century, under a Christian dispensation, the human mind has less power to exercise its right of free inquiry and free utterance, than it had in Pagan Rome under the most des.
potic of the emperors.  Tiberias had his Phaedrus, Nero his Lucan, and
Domlitian his Juvenal,-assertors of truth in the face of the world: but the
Napoleons, the Francis Josephs, and the Ferdinands of these times brook no
such men.  Forsooth, they patronize learning and literature and art.  They
are pleased to consider it a good thing, as indeed it truly is, to pick rotten
bones out of the earth, to catalogue the bugs of the field, to unroll papyri,
undo hieroglyphics, updig Greek roots, and to geometrize the moon, span the
tails of comets and enucleate the nebulae. Even in practical science they
find no ill; fix a color, invent a button, or improve a churn, and they will
not harm  you.  Legends are thought well of by them, love romances are
permitted, and Della-Cruscan verses are not felonious.  Put paint to canvass or steel to marble, and they frown not.  But say one free word about
men's rights and duties and destiny, make one straight unreserved appeal
to men's consciences in respect to the most serious concerns of life, address
yourself to men's reason in faithful defence of the truth as it is, and you are
silenced-silenced like a dog, and, what is infinitely worse, silenced like a
dog among sleeping tigers.  This is the system; not the mere make-shift of
the day, but the studied, organized, permanent system, whereby it is proposed that the continent of Europe shall henceforth be governed. A complete return has been made to the old barbaric idea that men are but a
higher sort of animals, and that the business of government is to quell their
passions and wile away their instincts.
The present rule of Europe is fals,ehood i!ncarnate; it had its birth in
perjury, and on fraud alone can it live; yet it is not this, for which I espe5
cially abhor it.  I abhor it, first of all and last of all, because it strikes at
the godlike in man; because it spares the body but to kill the spirit; bpe:
cause its work is to make men brutes in order to make them brutishly
governable. I abhor it not for its being mediaeval despotism, but for its
being worse.  Three hundred and forty years ago Niccolo Machiavelli composed a hand-book for political villainy. He did his best; and he did so well
that most men have agreed in abominating his work as some diabolical out



58                        o R A T I 0 N
growth from the very quintessence of political depravity. Our nineteenth
century princes have made good use of this precious manual. Try them. Open
the book. Search out its cardinal maxims. Read them in their very boldest
form.,' The manner in which men now live is so different from the manner
in which they ought to live, that the prince who deviates from the common
course of practice, and endeavors to act as duty dictates, necessarily ensures
his own destruction."  Has this been learned?  Look at the established
plea of State necessity and behold your answer, Again, "A prudent prince
cannot and ought not to keep his word, except when he can do it without
injury to himself, or when the circumstances under which he contracted the
engagement still exist."  Has this been learned?  Look at the revoked
constitutions, abandoned pledges, violated oaths, and belied protestations,
and behold your answer. Again, " The usurper of a State should commit
all the cruelties which his safety renders necessary at once, that he may
never have cause to repeat them; by not repeating them, he will acquire the
loyalty of his new subjects, and by favors he will rivet their attachment."
Has this been learned? Look at the coup d'etats, the fusilades, the banishmeuts, the imprisonments and at the amnesties too, and behold your answer,
Again,' Men are generally more inclined to submit to him who makes himself dreaded, than to one who merely strives to be beloved." Has this been
learned? Look at the two millions of bayonets, and behold your answer.
Again, "The Prince should make it a rule above all things, never to utter
anything which does not breathe of kindness, justice, good faith and piety;
this last quality it is most important for him to appear to possess, as men
in general judge more from appearances than from reality, All men have
eyes, but few have the gift of penetration." Has this been learned? Look
at the honied proclamations, preambles, parlances, protocols, messages and
manifestoes, and behold your answer. Again, "It is advantageous for a
prince to have enemies, which, by preventing him from indulging in a
dangerous repose, will enable him to win the esteem and admiration not
only of his faithful but of his rebellious subjects."  Has this been learned?
Look at the embattled hosts, and behold your answer. And finally " Princes
ought to honor talents and protect the arts, particularly commerce and
agriculture.. They should not neglect to entertain the people at certain
periods of the year with festivals and shows, and should honor with their
presence the different trading companies and corporations." Has this been




O RAT I O N                             59
learned? Look at the Exhibitions, and behold your answer. The catechism
is finished: the book is exhausted. Our princes understand all that. But
all that does not come up to their mark. They have had to out-Machiavell
Machiavelli.  Complete as his scheme was once thought, they have added
to it an appliance which he would not so much as even speak of; an appliance devised in the last days of heathen Rome, improved by the Popes,
and perfected by Ignatius Loyola-the interdict, I mean, upon human mind
and conscience.  The "Prince" of the Florentine respected the right of
honest utterance. Our modern princes do not respect it; on the contrary
they make the suppression of it their very chiefest concern.  It is this
which puts the European rulers of the present day out of the pale of my
charity, beyond the utmost reach of my tolerance. Their absolute power,
though dishonestly obtained, if it were honestly administered would move
me not: their Machiavellian policy, however craftily carried out, if confined
to its own limits might be borne with;-but when it becomes settled that
their power must depose the human reason in order that the human reason
may not depose their power, when their fixed policy is to deny the divine
faculty in man its clearest functions and its plainest behests, then acquiescence becomes treason and resignation suicidal despair. That rule, I care
not what its source or what its name, which finds a necessary condition of its
existence in the exclusion of that light whereby alone man can live the life
for which he was made, is accursed, of all earthly curses the most accursed;
and, though resistance to it be grievous, submission to it is death. Internal
order is worth much. There is one thing, and perhaps in this stage of the
world but one, which it is not worth.  It is not worth the celestial gift of
reason within us, and wo to the people that is content to surrender one for the
other. "I dispraise not the defense of just immunities," said John Milton,
"' yet love my peace better, if that were all.  Give me the liberty to know,
to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties."
And in very truth that is man's one inalienable right. Secure him that,
and sheath the sword forever. Place a tyrant on every throne in Europe,
and hedge him about with armies a million strong, yet leave his subjects
this one right of free inquiry and free utterance, and I ask no more. This
left, the expulsion of tyrant and armies would not be worth one drop of
blood. Truth in its own fit time would win the rest.
I sometimes hear fair words spoken for the present rulers of Europe, and
by scholars too. There is an eclat in the mere possession of power, which.




60                          0 R  ORATIO     o
has an effect even upon cultivated minds.  The imperial purple is a manytinted robe, and may, in some lights, please the learned, as in others the
vulgar, eye.  Ferocity, violence, insolence, rudeness are always offensive to
the refined man;-the arbitrary ruler who refrains from  these, who  is
amiable or discreet enough not to shed blood for its own sake, who eschews
robbery and arson and murder and addicts himself, in the main/to the outward decencies and respectable pretensions of civilized life, is quite sure of
finding some honest apologists among meii of letters.  Reduce despotism to
a fine art, and act it handsomely out, there is many a scholar who will tolerate, even if he do not opeiily applaud.  We all love to sacrifice to the
Graces; and all rejoice that the Furies have no altar.  I too hate revolutions; but I hate yet worse the thing- which  make revolutions; The hot
blooded violence that attends the one shocks me; but the cold-blooded calculation, whence springs the other, more than shocks, it horrifies.  The tornado sweeping resistless in the distance, commingling earth and air and sky
in its wild fury, is portentous indeed; but I can rejoice in its stir, when I
think of the putrid fens and poisonous fogs and seared deserts whence it' rose
and on which it wreaks its':rage.  Revenge is unhallowed; but more unhallowed yet is wanton wrong.s  Fanaticism is monstrous; but more monstrous
yet is passionless iniquity.  The maddest revolution the world ever saw
shall sooner receive my favor than the system it shivered —as much sooner
as frantic energy whose principle is life; than putrescent gangrene whose
principle is death.
It was very well for Goethe in the mild court of a just Grand Duke to say
that "''man must err till he has ceased to stritggle."  Goethe was the man
to say it; its spirit smacks of its sources; But grant that there is a certair'
truth in, it, it is lost in the infinitely ampler truth fr6i3 a different sage at,
that same court of Saxe Weimar.  "When the question" says Wieland ir
his great defence of the Liberty of Reasoning 06'is about the greatest evils
that urge the human race, we always return to the truth of truths; mankind
cannot be'helped unless they become better; they can never become better
until they become wiser, but they can never become wiser unless they
thi'nk rightly of every thing on which their weal or woe depends; and they
will never learn to think rightly, so long as they do not think freely." Here
is a vital principle-something which is rightly styled " the truth of truths."'
But when, as a believer in Reason and Conscience, I say that this thrall




0 R A T I O N                            61
upon the highest faculties of man must have an end, I am reminded of man's
depraved nature, his passions, his infirmities, his innate disposition to sin,
his blindness to the truth and his exceeding aptness to mistake error for the
truth.  I am  admonished that freedom of inquiry  begets agitation, and
agitation possibly disorder, and disorder possibly anarchy. I admit it all; in
humiliation and deepest sorrow, I, as one of the race, admit it. But is this
a reason for repression? Because man is prone to evil, should he therefore
be given up to the mastery of evil? Because he has low passions and
appetites that urge him into sin, are therefore his higher capacities to be
kept darkened and powerless?  If man was made by Satan, if he was made
for Satan, if he is Satan's-Satan's now and Satan's forever-the plea is
good; but if man was created by GOD, if GoD gave him a Reason to be
enlightened, a Will to be regulated, a Conscience to be followed, and a Soul
to be saved, the plea is bad-worse than a fallacy, an abomination.  MIan is
fallen; it is a mighty fact;-but there is a fact far mightier than that in
the truth, that he is even yet able to serve God, and bound to serve God,
and entitled to those faculties which God gave him to employ in that service.
It is well to remember that man is, by nature, inclined to error; but it is
yet better to remember that he can learn to aspire to the Truth, to gradually recognize the Truth, and to put himself finally on Truth's side, and even
give up for her his very life.  This is man's business here in this world;
and whosoever or whatsoever hinders that business is not of God, but of the
evil one.
True, indeed, it is that the way out, of the depths of error, is oft-times devious. doubtful, and even dangerous.  It has lures and snares and bars and
pitfalls; and mistakes are incurred there, trials suffered, passions excited,
and sins committed, which those who rest behind in brutish unconcern or
slavish unbelief know nothing of. He who has himself found the Truth may
look back and see nothing but confusion-leaders of all sorts, good and bad,
false and true, enlightened and ignorant, crying the way, Lo, here! and Lo,
there! the multitude swaying hitherward and thitherward as judgment, or
fancy, or affection, or passion, or even phrenzy may prompt, and his heart
may sink within him.  But let him remember that, if he gives up faith in
the endeavor and in despair folds his arms, if he does not go to the aid of his
struggling, though erring brother, and whether welcome or unwelcome, bear
testimony to him of what he knows, he is disloyal to the Truth and verily
8




62                        0 RA T I O N 
guilty before God. He may call himself a meek man, an humble man, a
peaceful man, an order-loving man, but with all his meekness he has the
presumption of him that disclaimed being his brother's keeper, with all his
humility he is even more vain glorious than the Pharisee who thanked
heaven he was not as other men are, for he practically believes that he is
not only what other men are not, but he is what they will not and cannot
be-with all his peacefulness he is for perpetuating strife, and with all his
love of order he will do nothing towards bringing disorder to an end.  Man
must struggle; and palsied be the tongue that would bid him rest and strive
no more. There is no rest to man but in the Truth.  To reach it, man
must, indeed, pass through trial and suffering, through hard effort and bitter
experience, for such is God's providence and discipline; but yet he must
reach it; he must see it; he must serve it.'Tis his duty;'tis his destiny.
Oh my blood has sometimes grown chill when I have heard menchristian men and men who call themselves thinkers and philosophersascribing to Error the power which belongs to Truth alone, and giving to
Error the, supreme and everlasting dominion of a world which God made,.
and which we know by His infinite sacrifice, He infinitely loves.   Error is
less strong than Truth, for while Truth has her home in the bosom of Omnipotence, Error comes only from the " Prince of the Powers of the Air." It
can have no solid endurance, because it rests, not on that which is, but or
that which is not; not on any thing absolute, but on negation; not on that
which is in harmony with God's universe, but on that which is at variance
with it; not on that which suits man's highest attributes and meets his
highest wants, but on that which is unsatisfying and noxious to both; not
on that which enlightens and improves and ameliorates and frees and elates
and dignifies, but on that which bewilders and deludes and disquiets and
degrades and destroys.  Men may indeed remain passive in error. They
may be kept by another's restraint or by their own lethargy. But if they are
left to. search for the truth,, and do earnestly search for it, they must in the
end find it, either they or those who come after them.  Error itself when
diligently followed is auxiliary to the discovery of the Truth, for the farther
it takes from the Truth the more baleful becomes its mischief, and the more
palpable its falsity. And in itself it has no reconciling principle; by the
very law of its nature it is inconsistent, not only with the truth, but with
itself. Its different forms are necessarily at variance, and are all the while




OR A        T                             3 0 N  63
denouncing, combating and retrenching-each other, and what of genuine substance is within them-as all must have more or less in order to have
vitality and movement, for men will not endure error pure and unmixed —
becomes eliminated, and accrues to the visible greatness and strength of
Truth. Error, indeed, is always and every where formidable; and yet it is
not error in motion but error at rest that is most to be feared; not error
working, but error brooding; not error followed, but error reposed under;
for the one indispensable condition of escape from error is awakened thought
and active inquiry.
It is not for us who have been taught the absolute existence and inherent
validity of Truth, its manifestation in elementary principles, its working by
uniform law, its necessity to every form of well-being, its cognizance by the
human Reason and its operative power in its very highest spiritual essence
through Christian faith-it is not for us, I say, to misdoubt its strength and
tremble when it is opposed. And yet this distrust is one of the chief weaknesses of learned men; many of them are never so much in the vein aswhen
chanting miser'eres over the isms of the times. I know no class of.men who,
as a class, are more easily frightened by shadows than those who inhabit
rooms lined with musty books.  I have sometimes thought that the specus
idola now-a-days are more numerous than the idola fori. I am sure that
many reflecting men are far more apt to seek for truth in their own little
worlds than to impartially watch the on-goings of the great world around
them. They study the volume of mind too much and the volume of life too
little, and interpret current history rather from their own preconceptions
and their own recollections of the past, than by a faithful regard to its real
aspects and new bearings. In philosophizing upon human nature, they are
constantly apt to full into the error of Aristotle, who made his natural philosophy completely subservient to his logic. The idols of the den are the
special fault of high discursive minds.  They mostly come, as Bacon tells us,
from some predominant pursuit, or an excess in synthesis and analysis, or a
party zeal in favor of certain ages, or from the extent or narrowness of the
subject.  No department of human inquiry is so peculiarly favorable to
errors of this kind as that which relates to the processes and sequences of
social life. The springs which control human affairs are in many cases too
deep and too minute, and in all cases too manifold, too complex and too
variable, to make it possible for the human intellect, even in its best estate,




64                          OR A T I ON.
to surely determine in advance their combined operation; and much less is
this possible when it is under the influence of such prepossessions, such casts
of thought and moods of feeling, as insensibly affect even the greatest and
fairest men when judging of present active life.
Edmund Burke has been called the most philosophic of English statesmen,
yet even his views of European affairs were always more or less local, special,
and insular. lie had transcendent genius and a prescience that has been
deemned marvellous; yet with all his genius he, in an English atmosphere
and on English soil, laid hold of but a mere hand-breadth of the entire round
of reflections upon the French Revolution, and, with all his prescience, he
espied but the mere outermost beginning of the end;-with all his genius,
though he inlaid thrones with "patins of bright gold" and hung jewels upon
every old church and chateau in France, he failed to set his stigma upon a
royalty the most delinquent and shameless, a nobility the most frivolous and
unfeeling, a clergy the most unspiritual and false, the modern world has
seen; upon monastic institutions which were like plague-spots upon the
land, a legal system working with a Zit de justice and lettres de cachet, a
spirit of chivalry which was the most refined essence of selfishness, and a
feudal form of society which kept, and for centuries had kept, the great body
of the people in the most abject ignorance, want, and degradation-and
with all his prescience, though he foresaw enough to inspire fear, he did not
foresee how much the aggressive war he was invoking would do towards
transferring influence from the gentle -Girondists to the untameable Jacobins,
and preparing the nation for that reign of Terror which was to make the
people one, and keep France united and unconquerable; though he foresaw
bankruptcy and financial ruin, he did not foresee the mighty resources by
which the combined enemies of France were beaten in the darkest days of
the Revolution, nor the irresistible energies which afterwards broke to pieces
the last and greatest coalition of Pitt, for half a generation defied all Europe
in arms and loaded England with a debt which will make her groan to the
last day of her existence; though he could foresee phrenzies and blasphemies and blood, readings, overturnings and havoc, he did not foresee the
establishment of a new mode of landed inheritance which should make the
whole land a garden, he did not foresee the emancipation of internal commerce by the breaking up of the ancient barriers between province and province, he did not foresee the civil code, perhaps the nearest perfect system




OR AT IO.                             65
of jurisprudence in the world, he did not foresee the initiation of the great
scheme of public instruction, he foresaw none of those mighty transformations which distinguish the France of the present day from the France of
the Middle Ages, and which owe their existence to that same Revolution,
so dreadful in its excesses, and, to his eye, so completely bounded by death.
Of this shortness of human vision Burke himself, in calmest philosophical
mood, was fully sensible. "It is often impossible," he declared, " in political
inquiries, to find any proportion between the apparent force of any moral
causes we may assign and their known operation. Some States, at the very
moment when they seemed plunged in unfathomable abysses of disgrace and
disaster, have suddenly emerged; they have begun a new course and opened
a new reckoning; and even in the depths of their calamity, and on the very
ruins of the country, have laid the foundations of a towering and durable
greatness." There is no State of civilized society in which moral causes, in
some form and to some extent, are not at work. That work is in great part
silent and secret. Here, as everywhere, Bacon's truth holds good that "the
subtlety of nature is beyond that of sense or of the understanding." History is full of the anomalous and unlooked for. Men turn to the future
and prophesy; yet those of the clearest ken can prophesy but in part.
They talk wisely of tendencies; but results usually baffle them.   One
agency unlocks the stream, and a multitude are in waiting to affect its
course and issue.  Evil comes from good, and good from evil.  In the providence of our world, enough is plain and fixed to give pulsation to virtue
and hope to the right-hearted; but enough is obscure and uncertain to re.
buke impatience, and to suggest many a lesson of humility.
The truly wise man reads the present and the future not by the dim re.
flection of ancient facts or passing phenomena, but in the grand light of
ultimate truths-such ultimate truths as those with which we have been
made so fully conscious. It is not for us of all men to solve history by the
old Pyrrhonic notion that it is only the perpetual flux, the down-rushing
change of a universe without centre, without order, without rest, and without goal; or to look at it, with the old heathen Tacitus, as a labyrinth without an outlet-a confused pile of ages upon ages; or to interpret it with
good John Foster, as simply " the Devil's play bill" performed with the
"sublime mechanism of depravity."  With Coleridge rather we see in it
"the great drama of an ever-unfolding Providence infusing hope, and reve.




66                         0 RATION 
rential thoughts of man and his destination." Though the world may, by
sin, have become vitiated in substance and fraught with evil, we still know
that God is in it and by HIis own eternal laws works through it; and that
though we cannot clearly scan the divine polity, there is, amid ceaseless
change, and behind unnumbered forms, a permanent principle of life, which
both sets bounds to every destructive agency, and exerts positively an assimilative and restorative power.
Thus there is in the universal heart of man a native and ineradicable
religious sentiment which makes general atheism impossible.   Individuals
may, indeed, argue themselves, or profess to argue themselves, into a disbelief of God and Immortality, just as they may Profess to argue themselves
into a disbelief of their own personality; but the race must change the very
constitution of its nature, ere it can cease to believe. iMen, good men, may
appal their imaginations by conceiving the horrors of a really atheistic
world, but they terrify themselves with what cannot be. Not even can a
single nation, under any circumstances, destroy this idea of the supernatural. A Parisian faction, maddened with phrenzy and drunken with blood,
attempted to dislodge it from revolutionized France; but, though a succedaneum was offered in the apotheosis of Reason, the attempt, even among
that depraved people, utterly failed. This inborn sentiment may be overlaid with vast errors and vices, but it cannot be pressed out of the heart of
humanity. Human Will has a tremendous power of sin, and may defy this
divine instinct; but destroy it or disable it, it cannot. And so long as this
instinct subsists, life must have to man a recognized moral significance, and
evil be under some measure of restraint.
Society is another necessity of the race.  There are men who fear a destruction of society; the thing is impossible.  Aian was made a social being.
He preserves society not only for interest but by instinct. Social preservation is as truly a law of nature as self-preservation. Society came without
calculation, and no calculation is needed to save it.  Mutual wants and
affinities form a social bond which no art can break. This social necessity,
for its own ends, necessitates civil government, yet though civil government
may for a time be interrupted, itself works on. There never yet was a civil
anarchy, in which the vital processes of society did not continue, however
disordered. It is the very evil brought upon society by the want of government that makes prolonged anarchy impossible, and the very regard for the




O R A T ION.                            67
defence of society that makes a resort to the strongest form of government,
a military despotism, so invariably a sequel to anarchy.
A natural law is also upon man to live as an individual, as well as a
social being.  He can no more part with his personality and sense of individual responsibility, than he can part with his personal identity. Any
conceived form of social organization which requires this is in violation of a
primary law of human nature, and is therefore impossible.  Socialists can
invent systems, but they cannot invent men for their systems; nor can they
fit men to their systems,. when, in doing it, they have to cut away any of the
prime elements of human being. Individualism is a necessity of man's
existence; and no humanitarian scheme can be devised in which he could
merge it if he would. He may indeed, after some sort, make an approach
towards it; he may either with his own volition or without, live under an
organization which shall exercise an inordinate power over him;-but completely abdicate himself he cannot. Socialism is as unnatural to him as
society is natural, and, in respect to both,. nature must alike prevail.
Indestructible also are the Family Relations.  Bad men may attack
them, may perhaps, in a measure, demoralize them, but destroy them they
cannot. The domestic affections are the most powerful elements of human
nature. God has made them thus, that the race may be preserved. The
institution of marriage has existed in some form in every nation and tribe.
It has been respected by the great mass of men everywhere, under all states
of existence. Even in revolutionary tumults, when the passions of men had
widest sway, it has never been brought into serious danger. It may exhibit
diversities of theory or of condition. It may be considered a sacrament or
a contract, dissoluble in particular cases or perpetually binding in all; it
may grievously suffer in consequence of bad public manners and morals, but
in its essential character, as a domestic institution binding husband and wifeparents and children, it must endure, as long as the human heart endures.
And so too in regard to the domesticity of woman,-nature herself prescribes
it. The sexes are distinguished by radical differences in their social constitution,. and it is impossible to make their social functions the same.  Woman'l
sensibilities fit her for domestic duties; man's energies fit him for public dtaties.  A few may talk wildly about Woman's Rights; but the great mass
know that woman has no rights inconsistent with the wise development of
her own proper nature. Woman dwells not in the suburbs of man's good



68                         0 R  A T I O N. 
pleasure here; in her own high instincts she finds her own " true-fixed and
resting quality."
Property too has a safeguard in nature.  A  Proudhon may argue ever
so adroitly that " property is theft," but man has known from the beginning
that the theft is in the violation of property. The institution is instinctively respected; it cannot be demolished. Whether its idea be deducible from
Reason or not, its substance is an inevitable outgrowth of society, just as
much so as society is the inevitable outgrowth of man's essential nature.
Its existence is dependent on theory not at all, and its form in a measure
only. Its diversities and inequalities, to a large extent, spring palpably from
a difference in merits and faculties which is inseparable from the moral and
natural constitution of the world. No reasoning is required to assure the
mass of men that indolence is not entitled to the reward of industry, or
stupidity to the reward of skill.  It is true that the distribution of wealth
results from much that is abstruse and much that is, perhaps, entirely arbitrary, and that specious theories are framed thereon, which fill men with
false hopes and tempt them to the most mischievous experiments.  But communism in its essential idea that all men have the same right to the means
of happiness, irrespective of their personal deserts, carries with it a moral
absurdity which could never be accepted by the race, even if the primary
laws of political economy did not prevent its application. Thus it is that
nature herself interposes against these extreme errors. We may speculate
upon the horrid work they would do upon human nature could they operate;
but to what end?  Human nature itself refuses, in advance, to submit to
their operation.  We admit this when we denounce the schemes as impracticable; they are so because nature has made them  so. So far as any of
them are capable of a limited realization, so far are they capable of only a
limited amount of evil.  Like the destructive powers in the physical world,
they can act only within certain bounds, and then only with transitory
effects. There is another reason why they are not to be deprecated with
unqualified dread; though evil essentially they have been the occasion of
much positive good. If the propagators of these errors have been impelled
by a disorganizing and subversive spirit, they have also directed public
attention to undeniable wrongs, anomalies which by neglect have been suffered to attain a fearful magnitude under the present system; and have
stimulated to an earnest search for the real causes, and for remedies both




O R A T IO                              69
just and effectual. If they have madly schemed upon the solidarity of the
race and sought to destroy man's individual and responsible being, they hav3
caused to start out into yet bolder relief the great frontal truth of' the unity
and brotherhood of the human family.  If they have preached the omnipotence of mere external mechanism to exorcise the devils and heal the miseries which afflict mankind, they have brought up the truth, too often forgotten, that physical and moral ill-being tend to promote each other, and
that physical and moral appliances should be used conjointly in the work of
reformation.  If they have discoursed most untruly upon the rights of
Woman, and labored for an end which would take from her all her dignity
and worth, they have also brought to notice the many unjust disabilities
which were entailed upon her by the old common Iaw, and have occasioned
remedial legislative action.  If they have made barbarous attacks upon
capital, they have awakened capital to a better sense of its relations and
duties; if they have emitted the grossest delusions respecting the rights of
labor, and widely embittered the working classes with rankling discontent,
they have done much to relieve labor from the servile associations which
have clung to it from feudal times, and to elevate it in its own estimation
and in the estimation of the world; if, with agrarian ideas, they have recklessly clamored for a partition of landed property, they have caused the
conserving influences and material advantages of a wide participation in this
kind of property to be better understood, so that in continental Europe, me.
diaeval tenures have been changed and a general policy been entered upon
by governments to bring about a subdivision of the immense estates transmitted from the days of conquest, and in our own country the multiplication
and perpetuation of homesteads have become an important concern of legislation. Thus it is that nature vindicates herself, limiting evil and from the
turbulence of evil educing good.
It is not for us, gentlemen, it is not for us to deride or denounce the sad
unrest of the present age. With all its earthliness and all its misdirections, it
has its chief spring in man's awakened consciousness of his own high faculties
and inherent worth.  Its very wildness comes from his larger perception that
he has essential rights, his deeper sense that he has intellectual, moral and
social needs which the present order of things does not satisfy, and his
stronger refusal to be kept down by mere prescriptive force and material
bonds. The movement, bad and inconsistent as it is in many of its mani9




70                         0 R A T I O 1N 
Gestations, is a practical protest against mechanical philosophy and materialistic statesmanship, and is a warningthat, hereafter, the world must
be governed more by principles and less by precedent, more in reference to
primary truths and less in reference to temporary expediency.
"For a wise man" said Burke of Lord Chatham, "he was governed too
much by general maxims.  This was said of one who throwing himself, at a
most portentous time, upon the justice of the masses and uniting all in the
service of the commonwealth, conducted, as all now admit, the. most successful and splendid administration England ever saw, excepting that of Cromwell, who, for a wise man, is even more famous for having been governed by
general maxims: and it was said by one who passed a public life which,
irradiated as it was with genius and ennobled as it was by virtue, was singularly unfortunate in its connections and fruitless in positive results.
Burke could, indeed, philosophize, and sentimentalize withal: none better.
While a dispute in the hands of Fox was but the dispute of the day, Burke
made it glow with the interest of an eternal and poetic character, and so
transfigured it with light from his beaming intellect, that we admire in his
productions a party controversy as if it were something epic or lyric, as we
see the crab and the balance, when in the zodiac, lose all their vulgarity. But
refinement, depth, elevation, originality, ingenuity, invention,, ethereal genius,
he devoted them all to the yeoman service of preserving intact the British
constitution as it came down to him  from his fathers. His political ideas
were all trained to guard that mixed material ground.  Principles that
could not stand firmly there he rejected. Hence abstract rights were his
abhorrence. The charge is not true that his doctrines, at different periods
of his life, were contradictory; they formed a consistent and united body;but it is true that, like the phalanx of old, they faced in opposite directions,
at this side bristling against attacks on prerogative, at the other against
attacks on franchise, and here or there called into action as circumstances
required. Their business was solely a defensive business, and their art the
art of keeping at bay. The settled watch word was-prescription; the regular weapon was the argument of expediency, all pennoned, polished, and
poised.  Chatham and Fox, when vital principles were at stake, were not
afraid to fall back on first principles which lie beyond the British Constitution and all Constitutions. Their conceptions of public duty 1" flew forth
and riglt on" from the souls highest instincts.  "Power without right is the




O R A T I O N                           71
most detestable object that can be offered to the human imagination" thundered
Chatham; " were I an American I would submit never."  "There is not
an American" proclaimed Fox " but must reject and resist the principle and
the right." While Burke simply begged of the Ministry not to press their point
because they could not carry it, and it would get the kingdom into trouble.
I need not deny that the policy of Edmund Burke had its place and
its time; but I must deny that the continent of Europe is the place for it,
or the middle of the nineteenth century the time for it.  There is no longer
any prevention of revolutions there by appeals to precedents or by mere
calculations of temporary expediency. Something must be done to satisfy
the living reason of men. Antiquity has lost its consecrating influence, and
prescription its controlling authority. I do not know why we, who value
Right and Justice for their own sake, should specially lament this.  Years
change not the essences of tilings.  "Pandemonium, the high capital of
Satan and his peers" is older than the oldest thing on earth, and we revere it
not, even though it contains a throne of royal state which far outshines the
wealth of Ormus and of Incl.  The Coliseum  has fifteen hundred years in
its favor; the college on yon eminence has fifty;-I like the latter best. I
authenticate my human rights not by mortal wax and parchment, but by
the image and superscription of God. The liberty I value traces no doubtful and oft-times degrading pedigree from  the English Magna Charta.  It
has neither birth, nor race, nor youth, nor age.  Charters and constitutions
may serve it, but create it never.  It is not compassed in a vote, nor
measured by a precedent.  It lives not on hypothesis nor on history; not
in the origin of society nor on the course of society. It consists in right, in
my right to do right and to be right. It draws its breath from law, but
not from human law.   It inheres in will, but only in a right will.  It is
armed with power, but only with a just power. It has a sanction, but its
sanction is highest truth; it has a service, but its service is perfect freedom.
It has a prudence, but a prudence only which itself inspires; it has its
sureties, but only the sureties itself sets up; it has its utilities, but only the
utilities which follow in its train; it has its sacrifices, but sacrifices only
which are given to God. Society makes no levy upon it. The social sphere
is larger than the individual sphere, but social rights are all in harmony
with individual rights; just as the heart, which is the organ, is in harmony
with the ruddy blood-drops which are the life. Social order no more involves




72Q                        OR A T I   TONe
a breaking in upon the normal unity of each individual, than bodily order
involves the breaking in upon the normal unity of each vital spherule. When
positive law is at variance with moral law, it is no longer law, it is arbitrary force, and arbitrary force has no binding authority. Liberty is right;
Obedience is Duty; authority is Justice; Government is justice armed.
Sully, who acted history, said there was never a revolt yet that was not provoked by injustice. Niebuhr, who wrote history, said when the governments
understand their vocation of ruling, the subjects will soon return to theirs of
obeying.  Whether these men were right I will not say, but this I know,
that in the late upheavings of Western Europe the governments which had
done most justly stood most firmly, and that there is no hope, none, none,
none, for the restoration of security to the governments of Europe until they
do justice.  Justice is the only true conservator, sedet tcternumque sedebit.
We have learned to know that our philosophy and religion differ only in
the forms that distinguish, without separating them: our religion is not
silent on subjects like these.  Of forms of government it has pronounced
nothing; of these I have remarked nothing.  But of rights and duties, of
authority and obedience, it does say something; it says much.  In all this
world there is no such friend to man, and no such foe to tyrants, as the
scriptures from God. Christianity is a gospel from a supreme Law-giver,
assuring every man of his eternal worth and claiming from every man
obedience to an eternal law.  It makes no exceptions, and recognizes no distinctions.  It was prophesied by Daniels as well as Davids; by those who
refused to do king's biddings as well as by kings.  Its heralding came not
from royal proclamation, but from a voice in the wilderness; notfrom a king,
but from one whom a king beheaded.  It was born in a manger, and came
into the world with a tyrant's price on its head. Its disciples were
taken from the people, its message was preached to the people, its miracles
were wrought for the people, and the first proof of its moral force was that
the people heard it gladly. Its first beatitude was for the poor in spirit;
its first promise a kingdom —a kingdom within you; and its first denunciations against guilty scribes in authority. It revealed at once the universal
equality and brotherhood of the human race, addressed its lessons to each
and every man's heart and understanding, treated with him in his own individual capacity, took jurisdiction over him as a free moral agent in personal
and immediate relation to his divine Judge, and never failed to carry home




O R A T I O.                           73
to him the conviction that he had his own personal faculties to exercise, his
own personal responsibilities to meet, and his own personal life to live.  It
put itself directly and altogether upon the truth, and never refers to the
past but to illustrate or confirm the truth.  It had its conservatism but no
conservatism of error. Its teaching was, Prove all things, and hold fast that
which is good.  It consecrated the principle of free inquiry at the outset,
and was protestant from the start.  It talked with men in the market places,
in the highways, and on the hill-sides, asked questions and answered questions, denounced the blind that led the blind, uttered its heaviest woe
against those who took away the key of knowledge, set at naught the empty
traditions of the elders, made no account of forms and formulas which exalted the means above the end, proclaimed that it came not to bring peace
upon the earth but division, took no note of majorities, loaded with reproaches spiritual wickedness in high places, and at no time, in no place,
and for no reason, made terms with iniquity. It regarded man as man, and
gave no countenance to the sham respectabilities of life. It took meat with
publicans and sinners; its severest language was for the washed and washing Pharisees, and not for the "unwashed democracy."  It treated with
respect the instincts of the masses, their restless longings, their disposition
to learn the truth, their ability to understand it.  From the start to the end,
it fared better with the masses than with the learned and the high in
authority. It drew multitudes after it from the beginning who heard it
gladly and were astonished at its doctrine, while the scribes and the Pharisees
laid in wait for it and sought to catch something out of its mouth. The
first plot against it was by the chief priests, and for the reason that " the
people were very attentive to hear" it. Its only hosannas came from the
people; the first attempts against it were baffled by the people.  It was the
chief priests and elders who persuaded the people against it; they who paid
the money for its betrayal; they who sent the mob to.arrest it; they who
arraigned it before Pilate for seducing the people; they who procured the
false witnesses; they who " persuaded the multitude that they should ask
Barabbas and destroy Jesus;" they chiefly that derided him on the cross,
and they that were plotting for a violation of the sepulchre at the very hour
when the people, "beholding the things which were done smote their breasts."
The Christian religion deals with the individual mind and spirit of man. It
wields no earthly sword and founds no worldly kingdom, yet recognizes the




74                        0 RA T I 0 N.
necessity of a well ordered society; it pays tribute to Coesar, while it gives
every person his due, couples the injunction honor all men with the injunction honor the king. It lends a divine right to the civil power, yet not as
the heir to an estate, but as a steward of a trust, "the minister of God, a
revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil," in other words-our
own philosophical words-as justice armed with force. There is not one
word in it accrediting unjust rule, nor a word authorizing obedience to an
unrighteous mandate. It does not commend violence, but it does commend
opinion; it does not teach physical insurrection, but it does teach spiritual
revolt. It is aggressive in its very character, proclaiming its judgments
from the house tops, and reasoning of righteousness before the very face of
guilty kings. It has regard to times and seasons, but it knows no such
policy as that of keeping things quiet. It bears equally hard upon the
pride that feels not and the sloth that thinks not. It compares itself now to
a fire, and now to a sword, now to a growing tree. and now to a stone grinding to powder, It is not a form to be acquiesced in, but a spirit to be imbibed and a doctrine to be applied. It enslaves not the will, but restores
the will to full liberty by raising it to its native seat; and thus having
secured the Will's right ends, trusts it with the selection of its own right
means. Thus it has within itself an effectual self-regulating power, and
completely adapts itself to all human circumstances. It works not against
man's faculties, but with them  and through them, magnifying reason with
faith, giving conscience a keener ken and a louder voice, etherealizing the
imagination, informing and expanding the understanding, certifying and
dignifying all the high instincts, touching emotion, passion, affection, sympathy, and from every chord of humanity bringing out full celestial utterance.
Diffusive too in its nature, shining not only with direct but with reflected
ray, clearing the vision, cheering the hearts, tempering the wills, and enforcing the respect of men even when it does not control their ways, never
withdrawing its redeeming influences, attracting the more as it is felt the
more, helping man to know himself and itself becoming better understood
and more faithfully conformed to, as that self-knowledge advances, covering
the lands that admit it with verdure and fruitage and waters and airs that
give a promise of millennial glory. Shall this great light ne'er tame this dark
misrule? Is there no hope for man?. "Methinks I see in my mind a noble
and puissant nation, rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and




O RA T I O N.                         75
shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her as an eagle, mewing her
mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam,
purging and unsealing her long abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance, while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those
also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in
their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms."
"That our hearts are now more capacious, our thoughts more erected to the
search and expectation of greatest and exactest things, is the issue of your
own virtue propagated in us" 0 Alma Mater. " It is that which hath rarefied and enlightened our spirits like the influence of heaven; that which hath
enfranchised, enlarged, and lifted up our apprehensions degrees above themselves." We fear no year "G of sects and schisms." The Reason of man is his
own; the Conscience of man is his own; give truth that field, we ask no more.
The great Beast in the Revelations, that was, and is not, and yet is, the
Mother of Abominations, she that sitteth upon many waters which are
peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues, that great monster which
typefied all the civil and ecclesiastical corruptions of the earth, had a name
written upon her forehead; —that name was MYSTERY. So was it ere time
began. When darkness was upon the face of the waters, there was chaos.
When Light came chaos ended, and creation commenced. So was it at that
mighty revealing which ushered in the new dispensation. "The people
which sat in darkness, saw great light; and to them which sat in the region
and shadow of death, light is sprung up."  So was it with that after thousand years which men look back upon, and shudder at, as the Dark Ages.
The light pent up by triple-hatted sorcery upon the Tiber was loosed in part
by black letter theurgy upon the Rhine; and from that time forth the Dark
Ages lost their name, though Darkness has recoiled but to draw fresh influences from below and for the time re-assert her dominion. This Light
will conquer; as sure as it came from  God it will conquer; as sure as it
was made for man it will conquer.  They may bind the mighty Sampson
of the people with his vast unwieldy, burdensome, yet heaven-gifted
strength-he who but yesterday
" Ran on embattled armies clad in iron;
And weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous,"
he who now lies
"With languish'd head unpropt,
As one past hope, abandon'd,"




76                         ORAA T    IO X 
betrayed by a Philistine woman "6 gloriously rigged," her name the goddess
of Liberty-they may bind him but he will not serve,," Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn"
he may be, but in brutish lot he will no longer serve. He has had glimpses
of his high estate-of his origin, of his destiny, of rights which are his own,
glimpses dim and perverted indeed in his thick vision, but actual glimpses
yet; and the charms of them, though not ethereal enough to have chastened
his soul, yet rush with his blood.  They cannot blind him now, for his eye
has been reached, though not purged by the " sovran vital lamp."   Unlike
the heathen Sampsons, the Demus and the Plebs of old, he has within him
an immortal spark; and though, when goaded by long delay and made a
public mock he, the pillars
With horrible convulsion to and fro
May tug, may shake, till down they come, and draw
The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder
Upon the heads of all who sit beneath,
Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests,
yet he will live on; and, with living, will gain new light, and from new light
will draw a nobler strength. He can cease to be dangerous only by being
recognized in his true rank, and brought to a clearer sense of his rights, and
of his duties too. He must be freed to the use of every faculty which God
has given him  for his enlightenment and guidance, to the access of every
influence which may minister to high aspirings for Truth and God, and to
all that plenitude of life and thought and action for which his nature was
framed to move in manhood through the world. He may go far astray, even
under the wisest rule, for the hurt of dark broodings like his lingers long
after their hold is broken; but made as he is, with all his capabilities upon
him, until his way to the truth be free and he be free to find it, he cannotnor should he —become else than an avenger and a scourge.
Gentlemen, I stand not here to speak in praise or dispraise of this
eventful age. Looking at its conquests of material things into the service of
man, its making small all earthly distance and interlacing the whole civilized world with cars for travel and wires for news; its facile ministration
to every bodily want; its triumph over pain and prolongation of life through
greater familiarity with organic laws; its augmented wealth; its energized
industry, its expanded and complicated commerce whereby peace has gained
ten-fold greater security; its advance in science and art and literature and




O R A T I O N                            77
sound learning; its educational and philanthropic and religious activities;
the power of its press wherever its press is free; its new-born public opinion,
capable of becoming the embodied and irresistible reason and conscience of
society, and thereby virtually more thans supplying Plato's desideratum of
some means, in his ideal Republic, whereby the best should rule; its added
lessons that right is the only real expediency, and duty the only true prudence, and justice the only genuine conservatism; the greater respect and
less jealousy of nation towards nation, and more open readiness to learn each
of the other; —looking at these I might easily applaud. Turning my eyes
to its darker features, to its selfish extravagancies, its heartless dissipations,
its vicious refinements, its conventional standards, its material aims, its high
assumptions and its boastful ways-taking thought that civilization often
polishes but to corrupt, that wealth adds new pleasures but to bring new
pains and ministers to desire but to give strength to temptation, that too
often learning is not wisdom  and industry not virtue, that art does not
always bring beauty' of soul and that science is wont to infuse pride and
destroy reverence, that with literary taste"frequently comes a quenching of
the native fire which ends in an impatience of small faults and a deadness to
great merits, that times of high mental cultivation have been times of deep
moral corruption, that in spite of all our intelligence and riches, pauperism
vice and crimes flourish fearfully, that progress is not always improvement,'
that position inclines to selfishness, material prosperity to spiritual death,
anli victory over nature to forgetfulness of Providence and defiance of God,
that innocence is not seen amid the crush of innovations, nor wisdom amid
the heats of controversy, nor justice amid the clamors of crowds, that des'
potism is discipline to the few though it be debasement to the many, and
that, with freedom, sometimes come "evils that vex less and mortify more,
that suck the blood though they do not shed it, and ossify the heart though
they torture it not" —with all this before me I might easily rail.  Of this
nineteenth century perhaps it were better said Spes, non res, laudenda est.
But arlbitrament is not for us.  The destinies of this world are governed by
him who " sitteth on the circle of the heavens."
Whatever sights meet the eyes, or tidings reach the ears, of those who'
shall gather to celebrate the return of this high festival when we are sleeping in the dust, we know they will stand pledged under the same sun to the
aama  caused  The principles of our Alma Mater; and their inspirings,




78                          ORATIX Oo
spring from the eternal and cannot change.  Many, many epochs, like this,
we trust, will return to her; but they will all find her in the same high service, consecrate to Justice, to Humanity, and to Truth.  Year after year,
will her faithftl children go firom her into the world assured that the human
forms which inhabit it are spiritual beings with spiritual faculties for spiritual ends, —penetrated with a solemn sense of the infinite grandeur of all
human relations and obligations, having supreme faith in the eternal verities as the foundation of all true conceptions of duty,-believers in the necessity and universality of truth in all its manifestations whether in the nab
tural or in the supernatural world,-respecting and obeying conscience, yet
knowing how to distinguish between its law and a mere judgment of the
understanding-unseduced by political fictions, dynastic aggrandizements,
expedient wrongs, and manifest destinies, fearless in God and stained with no
trace of falsehoodJ or of servitude-bound down by no dead-letter formulas
of ethical science or maxims of worldly wisdom, but judging in the free spirit
of a living practical reason, having imperishable faith in the dignity of man
and prizing the worth of the individual above all other worths, giving to
the cause of humanity their thought, their counsel, if need be their blood, revo
erencing authority, but only that authority which puts down evil and upholds
good, dcenouncing heaven's justice against all falsehood and oppressionsdistinguishing the permanent from the perishable and regarding as of small
a-ccount what this world may give or, what withhold —drawing strength
from  darkest adversity and, amid the rudest shocks of the world, not fore
getful of the dreams of the virgin soul and the visions of early youthstrong in the sense of right and yet having compassion for human life however burdened or tempted, observant to distil from things evil some soul of
goodness-seeing by the glad light, and profiting by every harmsonious
hint of a divine meaning in nature-never disposed to seek, in the degradation of their kind, excuse or solace for their own defects or their own unfaithfilness-holding fast to the interest of their race in every perplexity andc
through every crisis, finding hope not in the transient phenomena of sense
but in the eternal strength of Truth, and with hope and high endeavor finds
ing the richest fullness of life-held by no vain trammels and joyously coworking with all, everywhere, having a common spirit and a common aim,
instinct with the love taught by Dante, the love of souls that aspire together,
not fearing death, and starting at no shadows, —the slaves of no earthly




O R A ATXOI                           79
ambition-the tools of no worldly interests-ever mindful of her who has
nursed them  into manhood-content with strife, and looking for peace
Hereafter.








A POEM
RE  O0. G.o WEELER,
SOUTH IIHERO, VT.








-ince Ancient Bards, with brightest garlands crownedSince Ancient Bards, with brightest garlands crowned,
Were ever at the feet of Muses found,
And no one sings in this our modern time,
Who does not first to old Parnassus climb,
Presumptuous would it be for me to dare,
Without at least a timid trembling prayer,
Attempt the humblest flight, or breathe a strain,
Of which a mother e'en would not complain.
So flying from the busy haunts of men,
I sought the wild-wood shade, and sought it when
The hour was tranquil, and the sky sereneWhen mingled with the variegated green,
The sunbeams, stealing through the waving trees,
Glanced from the leaves, that trembled in the breeze.
There on a mossy knoll I laid my head,
And stretched my body on a leafy bed,
And sweetly summoned every wandering thought
Ere yet the silent prayer my spirit wrought.
Oh passing pleasant was it there to lie,
And see how lightly lay the floating sky,
A veil of azure o'er as bright a green,
As e'er by nymph or sylvan Goddess seen,
As with the silken leaves, in dalliance soft,
The loving breezes played; so turned I oft,
And mid the-sunlight, scattered all around,
I watched their shadows playing on the ground.




84                               P o EM I.
The birds had either sought some other spo'
Or were asleep, for ne'er was gloomy grot
More silent than my cool and still retreat,
And silence for my purpose then' was meet.
With such a velvet pillow for my head,
With such a leafy cushion for my bed,
Such beauty bending o'er me from above,
Such kisses from the breezes that I love,
How could a mortal, in a better frame,
The graceful Sisters woo, their favor claim?
The trembler thus began —" 0 sacred Nine,
O gentle generous Sisterhood Divine,
Upon your humble worshipper 0 deign
To smile, or else all effort will be vain-"
But hark, what music floats upon the air?
So soon has come an answer to my prayer?
As softly swells the low IEolian strain,
It nearer comes and thrills my throbbing brain,
It ceases —and I feel upon my brow,
The feet of Fairies tripping o'er it now.
Zounds, what a thrust was that-with vile descent,
The rascal's on my precious blood intent.
A blow'succeeds that nearly splits the skull,
And strikes my raving reeling senses dull,
And see, amid the multitude of foes,
That pendant spider steering-for my nose,
And O beneath me, all is crawling life,
And all engaged in most malicious strife,
Which may torment the raving'Tyro most,
Of all that hungry, thirsty, bloody host.
Away I fiew, and scarcely looked behind,
Henceforth to music deaf; to beauty blind,




P O E M                             85
Such music as in summer forest sounds,
Such beauty as in summer wood abounds.'Tis easy preaching, but to practise hard,'Tis passing easy, for the dreamy Bard,
To paint you rural scenes, and tell how sweet,
To plunge within the sheltering retreat,
And there commune with nature unadorned,
In simple beauty clad; but O be warned,
And fail not, if the Muses you would woo,
The treacherous wood forever to eschew.
I sought the shore, and watched the restless waves,
As on they came, and o'er each other's graves
Remorseless rolled, as living mortals spread
Oblivion o'er the memories of the dead,
It was an almost level pebbly shore,
And yet as on the raging billows pour,
Their crests just now so angry, melt away,
Just kiss their pebbly bound, their tribute pay,
And dying sink beneath the troubled deep,
Where buried all their predecessors sleep.
So too the Living 3Masses roll along,
And tho' you scarce would think the rushing throng
Would find a barrier strong enough to stay
The multitudes that press the crowded way,
Yet still they yield, whene'er they reach the shore,
And sinking crowd the tide of life no more.
I weary wandered, with indifferent aim,
Until upon a different shore I came,
No gentle margin, wooing to entrap
The sleepy wavelet, rolling in its lap,
But bold and steep the craggy rocks arose,
That frowned e'en when the waves were in repose;
11




86                         FPOEM  o
If e'er they smile,'tis when they keep at bay,
And dash the proudest billows into spray.
The winds were tired then, and merely rocked to sleep
The waves upon the bosom of the deep,
I smiled to see how lovingly caressed,
How kindly too, the old gray rocks were pressed;
5A little while ago, how fiercely blew
The wrathful tempest, and how angry grew
The foaming waters-lifting high their crest
In fury plunging'gainst the rocky breast,
But now they creeping strangely unabashed
Caress the bosom they so lately lashed,'Tis thus the child by foolish passion tossed,
When'er its proud rebellious will is crossed,
Contends with " might and main" against her power
Upon whose brow, no angry tempests lower,
Subdued, it nestles in its mother's arms,
Who smiles away its anger and alarms,
Thus too when children of a larger growth
Contend against some heaven-descended Truth,
And foam and rage and vainly spend their breath
To crush the Life of that which knows not DeathAs soon as e'er they find their weakness out,
And all their forces put to utter rout,
In fond embraces opposition ends;
And they're the most devoted of its friends.
Thus too, in Congress Hall, beneath the dome,
An old man stood, amid the lashing -foam
Of angry waters, ready to o'erwhelm
The Hero, but no Pilot at the helm
Was ever calmer,'mid the howling storm,
Than was that "6 old man eloquent" whose form.




P   E M                             87
Was bending'neath the weight of four score years,
Whose Patriot blood had never freighted fears.
He conquered-and all honor vied to give
The man who " ceased at once, to work and live."
With evergreens those rocks are always crowned,
No fading foliage there is ever found,
A fitting comely covering are they,
The ever green upon the ever gray,
I mused awhile among their solemn shades,
And thought at times, I heard the coyish maids,
Folding their wings, a word of hope to speak;O yes, I thought I felt upon my cheek
Their balmy breath, and strange peculiar fire
Began my aching bosom to inspire.'Twas all a mockery,-the lulling breeze
Was only sighing'mong the cedar trees,
And now and then, was playing with my locks,
As in despair, I sank upon the rocks.
So sweetly will the hand of love caress,
And soothingly your throbbing temples press,
Or fan your brow, and woo for you repose,
While kisses soft your weary eyelids close.
I slept, and as the fashion is, I dreamed,Within a circle silently I seemed
Patient to wait for gentle spirit raps,
Hoping some kind old Grecian Bard, perhaps,
Or Roman-Homer, Virgil, any oneWhose work on earth with honor had been done,
(If Ancient Poets whirling in the " Spheres"
Had soared too high, to bend to mortal ears,)
A Shakspeare, Old John Milton, Walter Scott,
Might use their leisure hours as well as not,
Communicating numbers through my pen,
That thus the world rmight hear them oing again.




8S                           PO LiP
How still that circle! Aye like statues still 
WVe heard the electric current of the will,
And Fancies trooping in their airy trainsAnd e'en the blood that rippled in our veins:
Our hearts would fain their timid beating stop,
Or start if truant pins presumed to drop,
Our thoughts, with hopes and fears were strangely mixed,
While all our eyes were on the table fixed.
It was an ancient table, and had borne
Many a fragrant feast, tho' now forlorn,
And merry voices oft had mingled there,
When hungry men did something else but stare.
Besides'twas darkly hinted that in times
Of old, bright spirits from the fairest climes,
And spirits which could warm the coldest blood,
Upon that table, visible had stood.
We looked and listened till three little raps,
That seemed like gentle baby-finger taps,
Announced the lucky man, the medium said,
To be myself, to whom the honored dead
Would graciously communicate a song —
Nor did I in amazement linger long,
But pen on paper placed, I gave my hand
All to the guidance of the spirit land.
My senses bound by strange magnetic spell,
What followed then, I cannot certain tell,
But when aroused, I sought'the glowing page,
And hieroglyphics of a distant age
Found scattered o'er the spirit-scribbled sheet,
I thought no triumph ever more complete.
Alas for such as borrowed glory seek!'Twas either Choctaw or forgotten Greek.




P OEM.                                89
A.h whither, whither now shall I resort,
Of muse and spirit both the cruel sport?
Must I the path of poesy forsake?
To dull and vulgar Prose again betake?
Just then, I felt a hand upon my arm,
So strangely fond, it had a magic charm,
Rekindled hope, and banished my despair,
It seemed to me a Mother's hand was there.
I looked, and looking, every nerve was thrilled,
And every ruffled passion too was stilled,
Our Alma Mater smiled upon her son,
And cheered the Heart, that early she had won.
Of stature perfect, and of gracious mien,
A wreath upon her temples, wove of evergreen,
The olden bloom was still upon her face,
Of youth the beauty, and of age the graceAnd still that same serene and quiet light
Of long ago, so pleasant and so bright.
6" Arise," said she, "and let thy heart be cheered,
The appointed task is nothing to be feared,
Only a simple family affair.
Thy.scattered Brothers will be gathered there,
Who will not come with cold Reviewer's ear,
Nor look on thee, with heartless critic's leer.
Oh no, as'round the homestead they shall throng,
They only ask. of thee a little homely song,
Withdraw thy straining, dim, near sighted eyes,
Nor look so eager toward the far off skies;
Let Greeks degenerate guard Parnassus' Mount,
And soldiers drink from the old Castalian fount,
If climb you will some dizzy cloudy height,
To Camel's Hump betake your airy flight;
Along your path you'll find as sweet a spring
As ever helped the Ancient Poet sing.




90                            POEMn
O'er fifty years, which have so quickly fled,
What sweet sad memories are thickly spread,
Let them the burden of your numbers be,
Content if I but kindly smile on thee."
So Brothers, here I cheerful come,
Nor your forgiveness ask,
For since we now are all at Home,
This is a pleasant task.
If strangers should my simple verse deride,
Enough if you are smiling at their side.
And if indeed there were a frown
To gather on your face,
Our sisters here would smile it down
With Charity's sweet grace.
Cheering the light the scattered groups display,
As clustering jewels of the milky way.
Not often do so many meet
Around our classic hearth,
Not often here each other greet,
In sadness and in mirth.
A strange commixture, sorrow, love and joy,
The white-haired Brother, and the dimpled Boy.
And Fathers too are gathered here,
Who, as my story runs,
Will find that they,'tis very clear,
Are Brothers to their Sons,
A curious tangled web of gentle ties
Are wove, as Life's swift shuttle flies.
Indeed whoever had a spot,
Known by the sweetest name,
A palace or the humblest cot,
Axd thither fondly came




POEM~                                 91
On some sweet festival, discovered there,
Beside the glossy curls, the silvered hairO
0 yes, and childhood's laughing eyes
On Elder Brother gazed,
And listened with a strange surprise,
Confounded and amazed,
To hear him call on Mother by the same
Delightful, fond, endearing name.
Such seasons too will oft awake
Forgotten Harmonies.
When ashes of the Past we rake,
Conflicting memories
Come swiftly flying from the cheequered ground,
And smiles of tears are oft the channels found.
From festive board, where mirthful songs
Are warbled with delight,
Where laughter light, to merry jest belongs,
And all is fair and bright,
They hie them to some silent burial place,
Where darkly sleeps some well remembered face.
From these familiar scenes our feet
Have, Brothers, distant strayed,
The years have fled, with wings how fleet,' Since first of us were made
Proud Bachelors, who eager then to win,
Were ready Life's great Battle to begin.
And yet these years, so quickly past,
Have whitened many a head,
And, Brothers, we are filling fast
The mansions of the dead.
The tombstone leans o'er many an early grave,
Where sleep the lost, the beautiful and brave,




And even on the very verge
Of this sweet festival,
We seem to hear the funeral dirge,
WVe seemn to see the pall
That draped the bier of one, whose youthful head
Untimely slumbers with the countless dead.
One class has no one here to-day
To join the festive throng,
Its names are starred, and so are they;
They have been sleeping long;
The gifted Brush, and Taylor pure and good,
We miss them from our pleasant Brotherhood.
How easy is it to recall,
The forms familiar, dear,
Of many whom the funeral pall
Forbids to meet us here!
Perhaps their spirits hover o'er us now,
And wonder why a cloud is on our brow.
And some in far far distant lands
Are spending brightest youth,
With noble missionary bands
Are toiling for the Truth;
Though perils in their thorny pathway lurk,
They cannot leave their Heaven-appointed work.
We gather from the sunny south,
Where bright Miagnolias bloom,
Where Freedom shuts her honest mouth,
As closely as the tomb;'Where children almost curse the Fathers' graves,
For leaving them a heritage of slaves.
We gather from the mighty west,
Where Prairie Oceans roll,




POEM.                               93
To all the world the region blest,
A refuge for the whole;
Oh yes from South, from West, from East, from North,
Our Alma Mater calls her children forth.
The Lawyer drops his budding brief,
And leaves his cause to fate;
The Politician seeks relief
From heavy cares of State;
Doctors for once forsake their growing bill,
While nature unembarrassed does her will.
The Farmer quits his patent plough
Tired of experiment,
His jeering neighbors wondering how
The sage can pay his rent;
Their beaten paths his wisdom oft has crossed,
They therefore think his life in college lost.
The Merchant leaves his costly wares
To slumber on the shelf,
Or heaps, perhaps, his honest cares
Upon his other self;
Of course, although a Bachelor of Arts,
From him no simple customer e'er smarts.
The Clergy leave their loving flocks,
Forgetting for to-day
The number of the stumbling blocks
That hedge their weary way;
They think the Real wondrous contrast bears
With bright ideals, which of old were theirs.
Forgive if in a single place,
My muse be personal.
A Brother of the oldest class
Has, proved perennial;
12




94                              o EM l.
The younger Pilgrims, suffered here to meet,
HIis cordial -welcome never fails to greet.'Tis pleasant when we hither come,
And stranger faces find,
To have a Brother still at home,
So courteous and kind;
In learning wise, in social battle brave,
Long may the veteran, our Brother Adams wave.
We even almost envy him,
On such a day as this,
For joyous are the tears that dim,
3Mid this unusual bliss;
It would have been a privilege to stand
And see those Brothers grasp each other's hand,
How many tales have they to tell
Of cherished long ago!
Emotions strange their bosoms swell,
And tears perhaps do flow;
How they have changed, since they were happy boys,
And mingled here their labors and their joys!
The world has many changes seen,
Since first on yonder Hill,
Of College dome the glittering sheen
Did scholar bosoms thrill,
Tyrants have mangled nations swallowed up;
Of vengeance, some have drunk the bitter cup.
Gay France has turned, t'amuse the world,
MIany a somerset,
And monarchs from their thrones has hurled,
Whenever in a pet.
Her crown chameleon changes color oft;
Malicious people think it covers something soft.




v o0E                                95
And yet upon her bloody soil
The bravest Heroes grow,
As'mid the serpent's quivering coil
The finest blossoms blow;
Her Bonaparte of mightiest renown,
It took the World to haul his banner down.
Hungary bold has tried to gain
Her rightful liberty,
While England saw with cold disdain
The Czar enslave the free;
1Her selfish silence now she pays with blood,
Her treasure wastes to stem the Cossack flood.
0 what surpassing eloquence
That dying nation breathed!
Her Son by darkest Providence
With brightest glory wreathed;
A sweeter voice the nations never heard,
They listened but returned no cheering word.
And Italy, poor Italy,
The cherished Home of Art,
Presumed, in her simplicity,'
The world would take her part;
But honest France, a red Republic then,
Her Freemen sent, to guard the Tyrant's den.
Poland has sunk to rise no more,
In blood her sun has set,
In vain her sons for help imploreTheir cries with mockery met;
Surrounding Despots crown the dismal tale,
And rob her Realm to hush her dying wail.
Our Country too has whirled along
The track of destiny,




Events her brilliant record throng,
Of thrilling memory;
Dear Country! would that we could think of thee,
An undefiled sweet Land of Liberty.
But there are shadows on the Moon,
And spots upon the Sun.
Perhaps it is as yet too soon,
(Our race is just begun )
Too soon for Earth to turn to Heaven a spot
So clear, so bright, without a single blot.
Thirteen enfeebled wasted states
Have grown to Thirty one,
And still we're rushing toward the gates
Where sleeps the setting sun;
Who cares? if Freedom keeps an equal pace,
Commending thus our Land to Heaven's grace.
Our Franklin first the Lightning caught,
Bridling the fiery steed,
But Morse the subtle courser taught
Along the wires to speed;
Now safely harnessed to the car of thought,
The greatest wonders of the Age are wrought.
When * these men gazed from College Hill,
They saw the vessel frail
Obey the fickle breeze's will,
And spread the timid sail;
But now the gorgeous steamer plows the wave,
Heedless of how the angry Tempests rave.
Stage coaches then, at early dawn,
Did sleepy travellers. waken,
*Our Elder Brothers




POE M.                              97
Retired now, their glory gone,
Like fallen friends forsaken;
A half-tamed Demon, some have called him Horse,
Now rushes madly o'er the iron course.
IIis horrid screech has scared the Stag,
To wildest valleys fled,
The eagle from his mountain crag
Has heard his thundering tread;
What wilder Beast is harnessed yet to be,
Why, Brothers, wait, for you may live, to see.
Our Politics are changing too,
For why should they stand still?
Our Demagogues must something do
The Offices to fill;
To save the State, they often change their mind,
To no opinion slavishly confined.
Our simple antiquated sires
Got up a great parade,
About a certain whim of theirs,
That men were equal made,
And all entitled to be free beside;
And none but Tories did their whim deride.
But greater men have lived and died
Since those men passed away,
And proved it clearly that they lied;
Aye proved it clear as day,
That men since Adam, are not made at all,
But now as Babes they first begin to squall.
And not content to clench the Truth
By such an argument,
They prove, and green the Saxon youth
Declining his assent,




98                           P O E M 
That colored men are darker than the whites,
And cannot claim equality of Rights.
Our Union often has been saved
When on the very brink,
Though Abolitionists have raved
To break the golden link;
And men begin to entertain the hope
That it has still an inch or two of rope.
As Haman could not be content
While 3Mordecai was there,
Sitting so proud and insolent
With such a haughty air;
So Politicians glory all in vain,
While tempting Cuba still adheres to Spain.
We've none of us been President,
Though some have near him been,
I trust no Brother to that high ascent
Will e'er be crawling seen;
Of a mere Party never be the Head,
A tool to deal to Demagogues their Bread.
Should Senate walls become your Home
For twice six years or so,
Don't let your childish passions foam,
Nor let your manners go,
But keep a steady hand upon the helm,
With graceful dignity your foes o'erwhelm.
The College is a little state,
A truthful miniature,
And often Faculties the weight
Of Cabinets endure;
For Boys like men will revolutionize,
And put to straits the wisdom of the wise.




POEM.                                 99
They have a sort of politics,
The canvass oft is warm,
Each bravely to his Party sticks,
While angry grows the storm;
King Caucus holds his hard despotic sway,
And sleepless nights precede election day.
Of one election I will sing,
Which tried the bravest soul.
I seem to hear the armor ring,
I list the drum-beat's roll;
O long the fearful conflict raged
And all our thoughts and all our hearts engaged.
Excited circles gather hot
Around each doubtful hearth,
Where ne'er before had been a thought
How much a vote is worth;
The humble finds his own importance grow,
As from the proud such kind attentions flow.
One's face is wreathed in blandest smiles,
Another's wears a frown,
One's features glow with cunning wiles,
Another studies brown;
While timid, anxious, modest candidates
Alternate fears depress and hope elates.
And when the balloting began
Grave questions oft arose,
As murmurs through the assembly ran
So near we came to blows,
That prudent ones were humbled by their fears
That Congross ruffians soon would find their peers.'Tis late, and dimly shine the lamps,
Neglected in the fray,




100                           P O EM.
In fury wild the foeman stamps,
And burns to fight his way;
The night is dark, nor will the sullen sky
Allow one star through rifted clouds to pry.
Our Chairman sees the tempest swell,
As cool and unconcerned
As any deep and crystal well
By strongest iron curbed;
"Let's put him out," a stalwart champion cries
As passage through the crowd he rushing tries.
But hark! as through the opening door
A well known figure glides;
As strikes his cane upon the floor,
Ilow quick the storm subsides!
6   order, you as riotous young men,
Disperse instanter" shouts Professor Ben.
Were we to craven cowards turned?
Were we by fear dispersed?
Oh no, we gracefully adjourned,
By Love not Fear coerced.
That voice, for us with wondrous power endued,
Would then a rougher tempest have subdued.
When storms have all their fury spent,
And hushed the howling wind,
Not always are the clouds content,
But linger still behind;
As if unwilling that the stars should see,
Or quite uncertain what the end may be.
A dreary silence, dark and deep,
Succeeded that night-storm;
We knew not but Its dismal sweep,
Might kindle new alarm.




P  E M.                            101
While doubts were in our anxious minds revolved,
Without a threat, the Union was dissolved.
This done, the gloomy cloud retires
Spanned with the brightest bow,
Though rival zeal our souls inspires
Our hearts together flow;
And since, like Brothers here we yearly meet,
The white and blue entwined in union sweet.
These simple badges both are dear;
We own their gentle thrall,
And yet, forgive, if very near,
And that before you all,
Though white may have the strongest spell for you,
Nearest my heart bind I the dear old Blue.
How many scenes rise fresh to view,
Of olden College days,
Of wicked scrapes just crawled through,
Which set the Town ablaze;
How sheep were pastured, neath the College dome,
And Sages like observed the planets roam.'Tis said their tracks were plainly seen
Upon the Lightning rod,
Nor did our Swan an insult mean,
When with a gracious nod,
He told the wrathful shepherd how they came
To be in such an elevated frame.
How vagrant cows with ghostly sheet,
The last the poor chum had,
Went bellowing through the village street
As if already mad;
No wonder, when that antiquated pail
Was dangling from her persecuted tail.
13




102                          P o E rI
Of foot-balls running gauntlet rough,
Amid a host of foes,
Which proved at least whose shins were tough
And who had tender toes;
Ah dark his face who seized that harmless ball
And bore it to the recitation hall.
Of sorrow borne, and tears that fell,
When that old house was burned,
That bound the Common by a spell,
Before to Park it turned;
Tho', of such partners honestly afraid,
The flames disgusted seemed to crave our aid.
From tangled wood and river bank
We brought the budding trees,
And though you know not whom to thank,
We whisper, if you please,
That that old Common owes a lasting debt,
To the largest class that ever trod it yet.
Fashion has had its changes too,
To very slight extent;
Perhaps a hundred times or so,
Since Chandler, all intent
To save his shoes yet guard against offense,
The lesson finished, hid them'neath the fence.
Some fair ones think they ought to wear
I shall not mention what,
For men of them most jealous are
And think they're in a plot
To wrest our rightful sceptre from us too,
And seem to reign, as actually they do.
And men are growing feminine,
Except about the face,




P O E M 0                           103
And he who shows the fairest skin
Is noblest of his race;
The softest shawls begin to hug their necks,
And jewels sparkle on the sterner sex.
The eye is pleased to linger,
Not much disposed to roam,
Upon a lily finger
Where jewels seem at home;
If men will wear them, why, let me propose
That they shall let them dangle from the nose.
And when our elder Brothers here
Were young, their sisters plied
The busy wheel, without a tear;
If caught, no wounded pride
Mantled their dimpled cheeks with blushes o'er,
The rose's banner floated there before.
But now the damsels are at school,
And shame their Brother's oft,
Although they cannot wind a spool,
In learning soar aloft;
When fifty years again have rolled around,
Sisters Alumni with us may be found.
Accursed be the selfish boor
Who'd clog our sister's wings,
And tie her to the kitchen door,
Or bind with leading strings
Her gentle genius plumed for loftiest flights,
No matter what are her disputed rights.
In olden times the Fathers learned
To read, to spell, to write,
The quill its graceful figures turned;
But since, such silly sight




104                           P 0 E M
Is rarely seen-we scribble now, with gold or steel,
Such writing as would make the Fathers' reel.
The Teachers whom they dearly loved,They are not here to greet them,
Some have to other fields removed,
And some can never meet them;
For Death has called them to its sweet repose,
Life's labors ended, with its joys and woes.
The Younger find there linger still
The same familiar faces,
And Brothers now with honor fill
Some dear old Teachers' places;
The heads that once with raven locks were crowned,
Are now with silver almond blossoms bound.
The Temple at whose sacred shrine
Our elder Brothers' bowed,
Whose young affections loved to twine
Around its portals proud,
Has long since fed the fierce and cruel flames,
Nor can they find where they had carved their names.
But some things, Brothers, little change;
That silver Lake is all the same,
And yonder lofty mountain range
Unaltered since the white man came
And shared its solitude
With Indian rude.
The sky displays as bright a blue
As smiled upon the forest green,
And just such stars did e'er bestrew
That bending arch, as now are seen
In clusters sown,
Or all alone




P OEM.                            105
In gentle radiance glowing,
Their limpid light forever flowing.
And Truth, though old,
Grows never gray;
The Ages fold
The young To-day
With unresisted arms,
But lend no brighter charms
To that which perfect came from Old Eternity,
And never while Jehovah is can changed be.
And now before my timid muse,
O'ertasked, shall cease to sing,
I know you cannot but excuse,
Should I a tribute bring
To one whose name will thrill the coldest heart,
Perhaps will cause th' unbidden tear to start.
O would that I could now employ
Some Angel's tongue,
Whose fitting song
Might fill your hearts with purest joy;
For he could tell where in the sky
That Star's sweet light,
Though tranquil bright,
2Is shining in its sphere so high.
Vermont, thy mountain breezes erst have fanned
The brow of warrior bold, of statesman sage,
And yet the Poet's mystic waving wand
Will charm to life thy bright historic page:
Ah such will live, the good, the great, the brave,
Will live in grateful hearts, if not in song,
Their hallowed deeds will never find a grave,
Although unsung their fame may slumber long;




106                          P O E M. 
But should our honored great forgotten lie,
Their names and mouldering dust together sleep,
Methinks our MARsh will be the last to die,
The last to sink beneath Oblivion's deep,
So many living words he left behind,
So many hearts his image have enshrined.
II.
WVe fear to lisp thy virtues, lest the flowers
Around thy grave, with blushes should reprove
The man whose crude untried and humble powers
Should rudely dare such sacred theme approach;
But then we love thee so, our burning heart
So sweetly whispers to itself of thee,
It fain would try Divine Apollo's art,
And singing set its silent music free.
Could I the pencil's magic power employ,
I'd paint Philosopher with lofty mien
Accounting it his highest purest joy
To sit at Jesus' feet, and there be seen
With holy tranquil aspect, seizing all
The words, that from the greatest Teacher fall.
III.
His Life was like a River, clear and deep
And calmly gliding toward its Ocean home;
No noisy tumult, rush or maddened leap,
Dashing the peaceful waters into foam;
The soul of Truth revealed herself to him,
Disrobed of all fantastic gaudy show,
Her Angel form, to most so dark and dim,
Shone clearly forth with ever bright'ning glow;
We loved to look upon his noble mien,
Capacious forehead shading deep-set eyes,
That looked serene, as if they oft had seen,
In realms of Beauty, heavenly visions rise;




P O EM                              107
A holy calm was ever on his face
Tinged with a smile of sweet peculiar grace.
IV.
As we recall his body pale and worn,
Trembling, as the harp trembles when its strings
Awaken deepest melodies,-we mourn
That God so feebly guarded life's deep springs.
That modest tenement was far too frail
For such a soul as his to dwell in long;
Such never-tiring thought could scarcely fail
To do the strongest frame a fatal wrong.
But God did chasten sore our selfish hearts,
That would have fettered to our chilly shore
A heart so pure-a spirit fit to soar
To brightest realms, whose sunlight ne'er departs,
Or lets the darkness in to furnish needless rest
For those who dwell forever with the Blest.
V.
Tremulous his voice; with Truth'twas freighted so,
It wavered like an undulating strain
Of music, or like limpid rays that flow
From stars reflected trembling from the rippled main.
His manners bore an unaffected grace;
Enough for him to seem just what he was;
IHe loved us all, we saw it in his face,
And there we read our most effective laws;
He seemed to die-his form is shrouded now,
And hidden from our view-but there he sleeps,
And though we cannot see his pale high brow,
Nor check the grief that unresisted creeps
Among our joys-that spot so justly dear
We'll visit oft, and o'er it drop a tear.
But, Brothers, I have wearied you,
To this fond hour I cling;




108                            P OEM.
Of all this crowd, alas, how few
Will hear another sing
When fifty years again shall roll away
And there shall come like this another day!
Ere then the most of us will sleep
The sleep no waking knows,
For some there will be few to weep
When our poor eyelids close;
While others still shall slumber with the great
~When they shall lay aside the robes of state.
And some may find no other grave
Than such as strangers make,
When kindly from the drifting wave
They floating corses take;
While others' monuments shall proudly tell
The passing stranger where they bravely fell.
Whoever lives to see that day,
Wrill feel the same strange thrill
Of which our Elder Brothers may
Soon tell us if they will.
Of all this living multitude, who dare
Indulge the faintest hope of being there?
Brothers, where'er our footsteps roam,
Whene'er our pathways meet,
Though distant from our old sweet Home,
In fellowship complete,
Let U. V. M. sufficient pass-word be
To waken ever, deepest sympathy.




SEMI-CENTENNIAL ANNIYVERSARY
OF THE
UNiVERSITY OF VERMONT, A. D. 1854.








PRE PARATORY PROCEEDINGS,
AT an adjourned meeting of the Associate Alumni of the University of
Vermont, held in the Phi Sigma Nu  lIall, on the 4th of August, 1852, at
8 1-2 o'clock, A. M., a committee consisting of the following gentlemen,
viz. HOno. H. J. Raymond, C. F. Davey, Esq., and Prof. C. Pease, was
appointed ", to consider the propriety of commemorating the Semi-centennial
anniversary of the University of' Vermont, in August 1854, and to report
some plan of carrying that purpose into effect."  The Alumni met, pursuant
to public notice at the same place and hour on the 3cld of August, 1853,
when the above named committee made their report, recommending "that
a Semi-centeznn2ial celebration be held, and that the " Literary Sccieties" in
the University, be invited to join in that celebration, and also that the
Alumni proceed at once to appoint a committee of Arrangements for said
celebration. to consist of seven'persons."  In accordance with this recommendation the following gentlemen were appointed a Committee of Arrangements for the Semi-centennial anniversary of the University of Vermont to
be held in August 1854, viz:
PROF. C. PEASE,
HON. H. J. RAYMlOND,
C. F. DAVEY, ESQ.,
REV. B. B. NEWTON,
PROr. N. G. CLARK,
R. J. HALE, ESQ., and
J.  I. HICKOK, EsQ.
The invitation to unite with the Alumni having been communicated to
the Literary Societies, by a committee appointed for that purpose, they




112                       P ROCEED ING S.
signified their acceptance of it; and the committee of arrangements, without
unnecessary delay, issued the following circular letter, which was sent to all
the Alumni of the Institution in both the Academical andl 3MIedical Departments, so far as their residence could be ascertained; and also to all on
whom the Corporation of the University had conferred honorary degrees.
C I eR C UJ L A U1 e
TUNIVERSITY OF VER3MONT,
Burlington, October 10, 1853. 1
SIR:-It is doubtless known to you that the first class connected with t he
University of Vermont graduated in 1804.  The Commenceiment of next year,
therefore, which will occur on the 2d day of August, 1854, will be the
Fiftieth Anniversary; and the " Associated Alumni," in connection with
the " Literary Societies" of the College have resolved to notice the occasion
with appropriate ceremonies.  As that Anniversary will be one of great interest, especially to the Alumni, efforts will be maclde to secure the attendance
of as many as possible of the surviving graduates.
MIembers of all the classes (with the exception of those of 1805 and 1808)
are yet living, most of whom it is hoped will be present; and it is believed
that few will willingly be absent on an occasion when the successive classes
of graduates through a period of half a century may enjoy the rare opportunity of exchanging greetings and mingling their recollections and sympathies,
around the hospitable board of their common Alma IMater.  Due notice will
be given in the Newspapers of the exercises which may be expected.
You, sir, are earnestly desired and invited to be present and participate in
the festivities of' the occasion.
An early response to this notice and invitation is solicited, addressed to
the Chairman of the Committee, at Burlington, Vermont.
CALVIN PEASE,            ]
HIENRY J. RAYMOND,
C. F. DAVEY,
B. B. NEW;TON,            >Co0 lITTEE.
N. G. CLARK,
R. J. HALE,
J. W. HICKOK.
The number and spirit of the letters received by the committee in answer
to this Circular, made it evident to them, that a large number of the
Alumni would attend the Anniversary, and that unusual provisions would
have to be made for their reception.  The committee, therefore, decided to
have the celebration held on the Tuesday before Commencement, and to
raise by subscription the funds necessary to provide a semi-centennial
dinner and to defray the other expenses of the celebration; and accordingly
a sum of more than $400 dollars was readily secured, by subscription, for
this purpose.
It having been provided, by vote of the Alumni, that, in addition to the
usual exercises of the Annual Celebration of the Society of Associate




PROC EEDINGS.                            113
Alumni, some person be appointed to deliver " a Discourse upon the History of the University of Vermont, from  its foundation," REV. JOI-IN
WTIHELER, D. D., of Burlington, late President of the University, was
invited by the Committee of Arrangements to deliver the Historical Discourse. JAMES R. SPALDING, Esqe, of New York, a graduate of the class
of 1840, was selected to deliver the Oration before the Alumni and the
Literary Societies, and REv.. 0. G.VWEELEER, of Grand Isle, a graduate of;hle class of 1837, to deliver a Poelm.
PROCEEDINGS AT THE CELEBRATION,
Tuesday August 19 18 5 4.
At an early hour on Tuesday morning, pursuant to public notice, a large
number of the Alumni assembled on the College grounds, and seldom is a
scene so interesting and touching witnessed, as when those who had long
been separated, met again,-many now for the first time since their graduation, —and exchanged their hearty greetings, recognizing often, under the
stooping form  and gray hairs of age the bright and buoyant associate of
college days; one spirit seeming to animate and inspire with a common
enthusiasm the old man upon his staff, the man in the vigor of his years
and the youth in the brightness of his earliest hopes.  Groups of middle
aged men filled the alcoves of the Library; old men might be seen trying to
identify familiar spots, about the grounds near the college buildings, and in
the pine grove in the rear,-the only remnant of the noble forest which
stood there in their youth-while  companies of students and  recent
graduates gave an air of liveliness and joy to a scene, which had otherwise
borne a shade of sadness, by the hilarity and heartiness of their mutual
congratulations; and it was no trivial undertaking for the Marshal of the
day, when the bell struck for half past 9, to reduce the assembly into
marching order to attend the literary exercises of the anniversary.




114                      P   0 o c E E D I N G 5.
At 9 1-2 o'clock, A. M., the procession, under the direction  of Jo IN B.
H:VIEELEmr, ESQ., Of the class of 1346, as Marshal, assisted by Rev. B. B.
N.TEWiTON, of t-he class of l331, and,. CLI.  AnLaK, Es3q., of the class of 1845,
noved down College Street, and up Church Street to the Unitarian
]Church, which had been  kindly and courteously opened for the use
of the College during the Anniversary.  The procession was escorted by
the Boston Brigade Band in the following order:
1o The Literary Societies o- the University, comaprising all the undergraduates.
2.  The Alumni by classes from  1853 to 1804.
3.  The Corporation and Faculty of the University.
4.  The Honorary Alumnli.
5.  Graduatjes of the MIeclical School.
6. Strangers and ]invited Guests.
7.  Presidents of t' 1L telrary Societies.
8.  President and Secretary of the Associate Alumni.
9.   listorian  and Orato  ofC the cday.
10.  Poet and Clh-aplain.
The galleries of the church'were filled with ladies at an early hour, and
the Procession, oni entering, filled the lower part to its utmost capacity.
The President of the Society of Associate Alumni, NORLMAN WVILLIAMiS,
ESQ., of the class of 1810, being absent, the Hon. JACOB COLLAMHER, L. L. D.
of the same class was called to the chair.  After prayer by Rev. AmrARIAJI
CIIANDLER, D. D., of G-reenfieldcl,   ass., the Chaplain of the occasion, Dr.
WHEELER read a very able and elocquent Discourse on the History of the
University, which although it occupied full two hours in the delivery was
listened to with increasing interest to the end.  After a short recess the
regular Address before the Associate Alumni was delivered by JAMEs R.
SPALDING, ESQ., of New York, a graduate of the class of 1840; a discourse
replete with weighty thoughts, and just sentimlents, expressed with a freedlom and boldness which cannot fail to secure the respect of the reader, as
it did the adcliration of the audience.  The Poem by Rev. 0. G. WHEELER




P RO c  ED IG S o                          115
of Grand Isle, a graduate of the class of 1837, which followed the Address,
was an unusually felicitous effort.  It succeeded so well in hitting the exact
spirit of the occasion, that, although the audience had been already detained more than four hours, they received it with marked applause and
lelight, and left the church at its close refireshed rather than fatigued.
After the exercises in the church were concluded, the procession formed
again, and march ecd to Harts' Hotel, where an excellent dinner was served,
by Mr. BLODGErTT, to more than three hundred guests.  The long dininghall had been tastefully decorated for the occasion by some of the ladies of
Burlington, whose presence to listen to the speeches after dinner, added a
somewhat novel interest and grace to the occasion.  JUDGE COLLAMER presided at the table.  A blessing was asked by Rev. Dr. CHANDLER, of the
class of 1807, and after a season spent in 1" discussing" the freshments of
the table, the complany were prepared for the so called, " feast of reason
and flow of soul. "
kF T i- D N    R' PROCE.E]DGS.
After dinner JUDGE CoLLAMIER arose, and in a brief and elegant speec'
gave notice of the intellectual repast which was to follow, and called for the
singing of the following:
$ 0 X G o
BY J. S. D. TAYLOR, ESQ., OF THE CLASS OF 184O
TUNE-Auld Lang Syne c
A host of cherished memories
Of scenes remembered aye,
Of the honored dead and living,
Throng U. V. M. to-day.
The hopes and loves of long agcy
Appear in bright review,
And grand, old classic college days
Their glorious youth renew.
We tread again the time-worn halls,
As when their echoes rung
With roistering classmates' tramp and shouat
And songs in concert sung.




11                        PI &      RO cEE D I N G S I
And better yet, together meet
Congenial souls once more,
Right royal, generous, beating hearts
As in the days of yore.
For this glad present and the past,
Let hallelujahs ring,
And Alma Mater's fiuture sons,
As rapturously sing.
Printed copies of the above song had been distributed along the tables,
and as the strains swelled and filled the hall from  such a multitude of
voices the effect was most inspiring.
The sentiments prepared for the occasion were then proposed in succession
by Judge COLLAMER, interspersed with appropriate music from the Band.
1. The Faczlty of the University of Vermont.
President SMITH being absent on account of illness, this sentiment was
responded to briefly by Dr. WHEELER, late President of the University.
He spoke of the general spirit which the discipline of the Faculty had
infused into students of this Institution; the high tone of moral and religions sentiment which it had been their aim  to inculcate; and expressed
his belief that no graduate of the University ever left it holding speculative
opinions adverse to the doctrines of the Christian religion.
2. The Associate Alumni. Rev. AARON G. PEASE, of Norwich, responded
to this sentiment, as follows:
MuR. PRESIDENT: —I certainly cannot refuse to offer a few words in response
to this sentiment. It relates to a set of men for whom I feel a very sincere
respect.
I think these University of Vermont men are quite extensively regarded as
a " peculiar set."  And I must confess that in many things we find ourselves
peculiar,-though of our peculiarities, 1 believe, we are not apt to be ashamed.
It used to be said a few years since that the University men were all earmarked.  And it was pretty well understood whose was the hand that put the
mark on. This mark was especially noticed and remarked upon at the gradution of the respective classes. Subsequently perhaps the mark has become
less noticeable, but I am not aware that in any instance it has grown up, or
grown out. The reason why it has been noticed less is perhaps that the ear
is less prominent now than it was then-not having grown so fast as the other
parts of the body. probably there are those who think that that member had
attained a sufficient growth already, and did not need to grow any more in
order to be as long, as it ought to be.
As my time is very short perhaps I can best respond to this sentiment and
answer the purpose of these remarks by a brief description of the University
man, and perhaps he can be best and most briefly described by giving a little
sketch of his literary and phllosophical creed.




P R O C E E D I N G S                         117
In the first place th en, he believes in Conscience —he believes that every man
has a conscience and that it?s the same in all mnen  In regard to this he is
disposed to be very decided, and not to conceal his faith or be tender-footed
in regard to it, but as they say somewhere (I believe at the West,) to come
out positive and flat footed, and take a bold stand on it.
For if you deny this truth in regard to conscience, you remove the great
foundation of moral science, and the whole thing becomes a mere selfish calculation of consequences, and is resolvable into the Utilitarian Philosophy,
and greatest happiness principle of Paley.
Hle believes in the distinzction between the Reason and the Understanding.
Without this distinction there can be no such thing as a rational Faith.
We wish to believe, but matters of faith must fiom the necessity of the case
transcend the Understanding.  And if Reason and Understanding are identical-then our faith is entirely independent of Reason, and we could not with
any consistency claim that our Faith was rational.  But every man wants a
rational faith. HI  does not want to believe without Reason, or against
Reason. He wants to believe in things which are beyond the understanding
but which at the same time commend themselves to him as rational and
true, and this he can do if he holds to the distinction between the Reason
and the Understanding.
lie believes in? the dzstinction between Nature and Spir'it-or between the Ncatural and the Spiritual.  The one he regards as the region of freedom  and responsibility, the other as the region of necessity, and the blind and involuntary Mlechanism of Cause and Effect.
Hence he holds consistently to the freedom of the will, and the consequent
and absolute responsibility and personality of the human soul.  According to this theory the will is something more than the mere aggregate of
specific volitions, and its freedom a matter somewhat more profound and respectable than "1 the Armlenilanself-cletermnination,"'
Re believes in Coleridage; not that he was destitute of errors and faults
but he takes him  as at minuend-a quantity to be dclllminished-he believes
that he had both errors and fiaults which are to be subtracted fiom  his total
amount of' doctrine and character. But when you have made your subtrahend
as large as any human candor can ask and substracted it from the minuend,
you will have enough left to set up an army of ordinary great men in a good
and thriving bnusiness during life.
He  believes in  Prof. Marsh.   This article comes in very naturally
here. For in this country, at least, whenever one of these great names is
pronounced the other is not a great'way off. He believes in Prof. Marsh as
the man to whom this University, and the cause of education in this country,
and his own mind, are more deeply indebted than to any other man.  A man
who made his mark deeply and indelibly upon the intellect of every student
with whom he came in contact; who moved him —not violently and superficially;
but strongly and centrally; gave his intellect an impulse and a direction
which it can never lose, and moulded him vitally, and permanently, and for
good.
-le believes in the Faculty of the University of Vermont.  For that Faculty,
though changed and changing, is still to the view of the University man, subst-antially one and the same. One spirit is running through it. The spirit of
the instruction and discipline remains the same.  And in regard to some of
us it may be said that to-day we believe in them  more than ever before.
Who can have listened to the history of past labors and struggles which has
this day been so ably recited, without having had his faith warmed into love?
Love fbr the great and good men who so nobly labored and suffered for our
good while we, immersed in "the still air of delightful studies" knew only of
their devoted care for us. Their noble souls in the mean time silent in respect to all that tried and agonized their hearts.  As a parent struggles amid
trials and griefs and fears for his unthinking child-so did they for us. As
a nurse cherishes her children, so gently and faithfully and amid untold trials
15




118                      PROCEE D ING S
and sacrifices did they nourish us. And ought we not to believe in and love
such men?
He believes in the University of Vermont. He believes that it has prove&
itself a force amid the Institutions and educated minds of this country.
That as its greatest teacher operated upon and moulded the minds of his imn
mediate pupils, so in a degree has this University operated upon the Institutions and the education of this Country. And as in the first instance the
effect has been good as well as great, so has it been in the latter and larger
instance. The influence of this University has been great and good. It is
felt and acknowledged almost everywhere. And many are the scholars and
thinkers and teachers that inquire after its methods, and after the methods of
its leading instructors-their plans of instruction, and the modes by which
they communicated knowledge, and exerted so great an influence over their
pupils.
Finally, it is an article of our creed very deeply seated and sacredly heldthat when another fifty years has passed away, those who shall come up here
to celebrate the Centennial Anniversary, will come here with the same sentiments in their hearts, and ready to swear allegiance to the same faith. The
same doctrine will be held, and the same great men will be revered.
3. The following letter was then read from J. N. POMEROY, Esq., proposing
the third regular sentiment as follows:
BURLINGTON, Aug. 1st, 1854,
NORMAN WILLIAdIS, ESQ.,
President of the Associate Alumni of the U. V. M.
DEAR SIR: -Feeling too much indisposed this afternoon to enjoy myself, or
to contribute to the enjoyment of others, I am yet unwilling to have this interesting occasion pass off, without contributing a sentiment which I doubt
not will meet a hearty response from all those whose position may have enabled
them to appreciate it:The memory of Daniel C. Sanders, the;first President of the Universityendeared to all his pupils by his frankness of manner, singleness of purposehis unliring devotion to, and able discharge of the arduous duties of his
position, his kind and courteous deportment and paternal solicitude.
Regretting that I am unable to be with you, and wishing you all a happy
reunion and greeting,
I am very, truly yours,
JOHN N. POMIEROY.
Rev. Dr. CHANDLER, of Greenfield, made the following interesting and
touching response to the sentiment proposed by 3Mr. POIE ROY 
MR. PRESIDENT:-I had some recollections of Rev. Daniel Clark Sanders,
which I thought to have related at this time, but the ground has been so
fully occupied by others, especially by Dr. Wheeler, in his excellent historical address, that I should but repeat the story already better told.
Endorsing therefore, very fully and very cheerfully, what has been already
said, I will confine myself to a brief reminiscence of my last interview with
the venerable and beloved man. Seven years ago I made a journey of more
than a hundred miles for the sole purpose of visiting him. I found him the
same man-scarcely a change in his personal appearance except that his locks
were of a snowy whiteness. His eye was bright, his voice strong and musical,
and his articulation as distinct as in his best days. He received me with his
wonted cordiality and after mutual inquiries into personal and domestic
affairs, he reverted to the University of Vermont, a subject which seemed to




PRO C   E DIN G S.                         119
interest him more thllan any other. Notwithstanding the numerous changes
which had taken place, his joy in her prosperity seemed almost enthusiastic,
iHe had always been confident, he said, that she would surmount her difficulties and become the joy and pride of the state, whose name she bears. But,
what surprised me most was his knowledge of the standing and history of all
the students, who had passed under his tuition. Here his acquaintance
seemed minute, He could tell their whereabouts and professions, who were
living and who had passed away. He spoke of those, who had equalled, of
such as had exceeded, and such as had disappointed his hopes; and the
manner in which he spoke of them was truly parental.  One thing affected
him even to tears (and Daniel C. Sanders was not prone to weep). When he
spoke of those, who had fallen untimely, poisoned by an insidious foe, " his
grief swelled up so high he could not"-yet the wonder was not that so many
had fallen, but, considering the customs of that period, that so many had
escaped. And he congratulated the youth, students especially, of the present
day, upon the happy social change, which has liberated them from the
1tyranny of a custom, so cruel and relentless as almost to compel men to "put
an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains" not only, but also the
-precious life. Such was my last interview with President Sanders. After a
few hours conversation and taking tea with him and his amiable but infirm.
companion, he accompanied me to my carriage, where we took an affectionate
leave of each other. I hoped that 1 might see him again-I feared that I
should not-The fear is reality, the hope was wind. His exit was sudden. I
have not learned its precise date. Pleasant though mournful to the soul is
the "' remembrance of joys which are past."  We return to the hearth-stone
of our father. His place is empty and the children, who sat in brightness
and beauty at his feet, are few and far between and their gray locks wave in
the wind. Fifty years hence-and who shall tell of another fifty years gone
by T But while Universitas Viridimontana shall endure, may the memory of
every succeeding President and every Officer be cherished by his pupils with
as warm affection as is the memory of Daniel C. Sanders by those who received
his instruction.
4. The first Graduating Class, of 50 years ago.
This sentiment and the class to which it refers, seemed to be the point in
which the peculiar interest of the occasion chiefly centered. The report
contained in the Burlington Free Press, the next day, speaks of the scene as
follows: " CHARLEs ADAirs, Esq., of Burlington, arose.' There were four,of us' said he,' who graduated fifty years ago.' He stopped a moment, two
white haired men rose beside him and the three, the survivors of the Class
of 1804, stood in silence.  The effect was electric.  Wonder, that of a
college class of half a century ago, three fourths should yet survive, and be
able to meet at such a time, and thoughts of the emotions which they must
feel, as they looked upon each other and their numerous successors in the
path on which they were the pioneers, filled the minds of all present, and
after a moment's silence broke forth in deafening applause.   CHARLES
ADAMs, WHEELER BARNES, JUSTUS P. WH:EELER, and JAIRus KENNAN,
f-ormed the class."
But here are Mr. ADAMs' remarks:
MR. PRESIDENT:-In rising to return thanks for the flattering notice of our




120                      P R  C EED I N G S.
class I am constrained to think it is rather an evidence of the kind feeling of
the Alumni than of any distinctive merit in us.  We feel, deeply feel, how
little of merit we can claim, and we stand before you to-day, rather as
antique specimens of early times than as scholars.
Fifty years have now elapsed since we were permitted to celebrate our
first Commencement in this University.  The first class consisted of four, and
by a kind Providence three of us are here to-clay to join in this celebration.
[Thie other two gentlemen here arose].
The gentleman on my right, Justus P. Wheeler, tills his many acres near
the banks of the Mississippi, the gentleman on my left, Wheeler Barnes, is of
the Oneida Bar, and I have the honor to be jack at all trades and good at
none.  First of all we desire to thank God for the remarkable providence
that has preserved so large a proportion of' our class and allowed us to meet
our younger brothers at the end of fifty years and to see the prosperity of
the institution that we helped to plant.
The joy of this meeting is chastened by the reflection that our other class mate
Jairus Kennan is no more. He was feeble while in college, and having long
struggled with disease, has gone, as we trust, to a higher and a better world.
An affectionate regard f(or him while living, demands from  us a kind and
respectful notice.  Jairus Kennan was not an ordinary man.  lie loved
knowledge and nothing could repress his ardor in the pursuit of it.  His intellectual powers were of a high order and he cultivated them with an untiring devotion.  He was distinguished for warmth of feeling and kindness of
manner and had he lived would have taken a high rank as a philanthropist.
Though not a man of wit, he was remarkable for cheerfulness and that
sparkling vivacity which at times did set the table in a roar.  Poor in purse
and  poorer yet in health, he rose  above adverse  circumstances and
unaided and alone pursued a giant's course to the highest development of
mind and heart.  HIe is a bright example of what energy and ambition
may accomplish where there is the indomitable will.
As an excuse for our short comings as scholars, I beg leave to say that our
collegiate life was full oft trial.  Our preliminary academic instruction commenced in what was called the President's house, in 1800. The walls of the
college were commenced in 1801-in 1802 they were so far erected that we
finished off rooms at our own expense and occupied them, but we had no
chapel, no bell, no pLublic library, no apparatus and no lectures, and it should
not surprise any that under such privations we have made but a faint impress upon the literary world.
Our entrance into college was in 1801, and from. this it will be seen that
we were but three years in College. Owing no doubt to our being remarkably
precocious, we were never Juniors, but passed from  Sophomores to Seniors.
Doct. Sanders kindly said that he thought it better for us to become men
early and wise afterwards.  The experiment, always dangerous, loses none
of its force in its application to us.  I pray that our young friends may realize their superior advantages and that so many as may be permitted to
stand here fifty years hence, may feel a proud consciousness of having performed a better work for themselves, for their country and humanity, than it
has fallen to our lot to achieve.
We should be wanting in feelings of common gratitude did we not avail
ourselves of the occasion to bear our testimony to the eminent services of
Doct. Sanders. The learned gentleman who has favored us with the history
of the College has justly portrayed the character of Doct. Sanders; but no
man can feel his influence as we felt it, no man can realize his self sacrifices
as we who saw them, and no man can portray his worth as we felt it.
During the whole time of our connexion with the College he was our only
instructor. Solitary and alone he attempted to found a College and bring it
into existence, and most faithfully did he devote himself to the great work.
It was a bold conception to start a College in the depth of a wilderness; but
Doet, Sanders possessed the requisite energy, and this day we see in part the




PAROCEEDINGS.                             121
accomplishment of his first conceptions. In stature and energies of mind he
was a luan and his giant strength enabled him  to make exertions under
which ordinary men would have sunk. At early morn he was in his seat
ready to teach, and the shadows of. evening found him urging the classes to
higher and still higher exertions.  Kind in feeling, he was amiable and fascinating in manner and probably few men more warmly attached their pupils to
them or inspired themr with more ardor in the pursuit of knowledge. I can
truly affirm, that if there is any thing of me, I owe it to -that good man.
In forming  an estimate of the character of Doct. Sanders and of those
who aided him in bringing the College into existence, it should be borne in
mind that this section of the country has made no small advance in the
lapse of fifty years. In 18500, the place where the college stands was a wilderness covered with primeval pines which had defied the blasts of two
bundred years. Burlington and this whole section was then poor. It requires some exertion, even on the part of those of us who were present and
did Irish service in digging stumps, to recall to mind the state of things as
then existing. But the forest has disappeared, the beasts have left their
lairs and, instead of the night birds, the axe and the hammer have been heard,
and the College now stands as an evidence of the public spirit and energy of
its founders.  Long mlay it stand  the cherished  home of the scholar,
sending forth its gushing streims fiom year to year, to awaken thought and
elevate the mind, until at the end of fifty years more, its thousands of favored
sons may return to rejoice in its prosperity and increased usefuilness, bearing
the evidence of a world improved by its teaching and more holy by its influence.
Mr. PRESIDENT:-Providence having cast my lot in this place, it has
so happened that I have attended every commencement, and from this fact
have become acquainted with the affairs of the institution, its trials and its
adversities, and had intended to speak of them.  I had intended to call
attention to the propriety of making tuition free, to the necessity of enlarging
the course of instruction to meet the demands of a practical age. I had
intended to enquire whether the College should not be made instrumental in
giving young men more perfect instruction in the principles of our republican
government, but the length of the exercises and the premature advance of the
evening will not allow. I will therefore consult the better convenience of the
Alumni and take mly seat, praying that our Alma Mater mayremain a bright
particular star whose mild brilliance shall be its glory and its beams a
guiding light.
5. The Memory of the deceased Alumni.
This sentiment was appropriately received in silence.
6. The Historian of the 1Day.
DR.l WVHEELER made a brief response to the compliment, alluding to
several matters of interest which the necessary limits of a public address
compelled him to omit in his discourse.
7. The Orator of the Day.
MR. SPALDING arose and said:
I am  sure Mr. President, that no heart here beats in happier concord
with the time and the place than mine.  But'tis not my time or place,
Our brothers are here from all parts of the land. They have come laden
with cheer. They are waiting to mingle their joy with ours. The hour




22                     PRO C E EDINGS.
fies. They have a right to speak.  You have a right to hear.  I have a,
right to be silent.  I believe in right-therefore thanking you much for
your compliment, shall sit again.
8. The Poet of the Day.
There was no response to this compliment, the Ruv. M3r. WIIEELE
being, at the time, absent from the table.
9. Our Abnma Mater.
HON. H. J. RRAYMOND, of the class of 1840, responded in an elegant and
impressive manner to this sentiment, but unfortunately his remarks have
not been recovered; he alluded to what students owe to Alma Mater for
culture, care, &c., and to the duties and services by which their gratitude
can best be shown; he also spoke of the fact that the same system of Philosophy which the University of Vermont taught alone a few years since was
now taught more or less fully in all the first class colleges &c.
PROF. PEASE of the class of 1838 having been also called on to respond
to the above sentiment declined on account of the lateness of the hour; the
following are substantially the remarks which he had intended to offer:
MR. PRESIDENT:-I have often been impressed with the peculiar beauty and
fitness of that expression: "i Alma Mater:" as applied to an Institution of
learning. It might seem indeed almost a profanation to employ that name
Mother, associated as it is with everything that is venerable and tender, in
any such metaphorical way; and certainly the thing to which we presume to
attach it must offer pretty strong claims in order to be allowed to go long
unchallenged. Indeed there is only one object besides which everywhere and
from everybody has been able to call out this spontaneous tribute of love and
reverence and gratitude, and that is the Earth which sustains and feeds us.
An analogous sentiment, it is true, leads us to call our country Father
Land, because it affords us protection; but we do not accord it any such
tenderness of affection as we bestow upon the earth which bears us, and the
College which gives us our training and discipline, which fosters and moulds
our mind and heart, and stamps upon us what is called, in one word, our
character.
It may not be easy to tell exactly what it is which we thus love and revere
under the name of Alma Mater. We may have strong sentiments and impressions about it, without any very distinct conceptions of it. It evidently
is not those brick walls on the hill there, and yet we no sooner think of
Alma Mater, whoever she may be, than that same goodly edifice rises up with
a sort of matronly dignity and grace before our fancy. Neither is it the
choice books that are gathered there, for it were a sad blunder, which I trust
she has no such lubber of a son as to make, to mistake her well-filled pantry
and larder for the good dame herself. It is not the Faculty, for the time
being, nor for all time. And yet what a controlling influence, what an almost
absolute and creative power we have mIost of us felt, and do still feel flowing
in upon us from that particular source!
Can I, for instance, ever forget the expression of. that pale, thoughtful,
benevolent face, which never failed to awaken a confiding and respectful
affection in the mind of every student, and of every man that came within its




P R O C E E D I N G S.                     123
sphere? those deep-set, light-grey eyes which seemed to look out from unfathomable depths as if they had thoughts of their own and which seenmed to
look us through and through, and read the very secrets of our minds, filling
us with a strange fear and as strange a hope, with the power almost of enchantiment? the thoughtful wisdom of those words, which were words indeed,
sinmple, but all filled with germs of thought capable to take root in the minds
and hearts of those who heard them, and develop themselves in conduct!
like the sage in Shakspeare,
his plausive words
tHe scattered not in ears, but grafted them
To grow there and to bear.
And there was that other chisseled Grecian face indicative of the fine, rich
culture within, ever before our fancy as the model of a scholar, too far beyond
us and above us, than that we should ever hope quite to reach it, but the
fair ideal of culture towards which we could not fail to strive. and whose
moulding influence still grows warmer and surer and stronger, the longer and
more nearly we feel it.
And who that has once felt it will ever willingly cease to feel the influence
of that other keen practical intellect, in warmest sympathy with the other
two, so persistent in calling things by their right names, that so ruthlessly
dissipated all our fog, stripped off the disguises in which we would have concealed our ignorance from our own eyes, laid open to our reluctant and mortified view the " aching void" which we had mistaken for struggling thoughts!
and yet so hearty and kind, and quick to recognize every right result, and
every honest effort?
And I should not be true to my own recollections and feelings should I
forbear to allude to another not unworthy such companionship, and that is
praise enough for any man —the man of severe and rigid proof, interrogating
our postulates, questioning our conclusions, whose iron exactness would not
bend to our wishes or to our laziness, but who would still insist, with a will
as inexorable as destiny, on his remorseless formulae as both law and gospel
for us..And finally that circle of remarkable men found its fitting complement in
that tall commanding figure, of eloquent speech and gesture, the compass and
music of' whose voice was only equaled by the benignity of his manners and
the elegance of his social accomplishments-a band of men, take them for all
in all, we shall not look upon their like again.
But after all they are not Alma Mater —she was here before they came. She
will be here after they are all dead. The edifice may burn, the library may be
consumed, the Faculty may die, but Alma lMater will remain. But what is she l
She is the Genius of the place, if I may be pardoned such a solecism in gender,
Genius loci, so that, gentlemen, we are all sons of Genius, a fact of which the
public may not be aware, although it is very obvious to us. Her true spirit
and embodiment can be found only in her Alumni. She has indeed her center and
visible organization; she has her determinate location.  The chief outlet of
her influence is here with such definite form and mode as the college organization for the time being may determine. But she gathers the influence
which she thus diffuses from a wide area; she brings her powers from afar.
For every stream which Issues from her becomes in turn a tributary.  Every
agency which she creates and sets in motion operates in the same direction
and for the same ends with herself. Whereever in the remotest and obscurest
corner of the land, one of her children, with the young heart and wise head
of the scholar, works in his calling, however humble, for the best interests
of society and for the benefit of mankind, there throbs the vital blood of Alma
Mater; there is felt the healthful and invigorating breath of her most beneficent and salutary life. Whereever, subject to the scrutiny of more numerous
eyes, an individual of her Alumni, whether in the national councils, at the




tt~4                      P:Pa o c E E D I ING S.
bar, on the bench, in the pulpit, or through the public press, gives emphasi 
and illustration by a noble and patriotic career, to the sentiments of virtue,
religion and honor, which he had imbibed firom her counsels and teachings,
there works Alma MaLter, there she educates, cultivates, purifies, elevates
society, by a most direct and most powerful influence.  Thus she multiplies
and propagates herself in her Alumni, exerting therefore, a power which is
vital and progressive, and capable of returning to augment by its whole
virtue and influence its parent source. It is this gathered, concentrated influence directed and applied through the proper organization of the college,
which constitutes the Alma Maler which we revere and love. This I have
called the Genius loci, because there is, in this respect, to every Institution,
its peculiar individuality.  I shall detain you to mention but a single feature
of the individuality of' this Institution.  It is the generous breadth and
liberality of its spirit, which recognizes no bonds but those of righteousness and
truth, and whose reverence for the old regards that which is permanent in its
spirit rather than that which is accidental and temporary in its form, a fact,
by the way, which affords an explanation of much of the distrust,  Lmight
almost say, abuse, which the Institution has been in the habit of receiving
frolu certain quarters, where some favorite foJrrnzla is regarded as the only
possible expression of sonme very complex conceptions, and any variation of
this for the necessities of practical use is like breaking the Commandments.
This spirit of rational freedom, gentlemen, it becomes us to appreciate and
cherish, and to strive to intensify in the institution itself, as though it were a
self-conscious individual.  And these permanent institutions hold closer resemblances to persons than we sometimes suppose, Like persons they are
capable of deterioration in their tone and spirit; of departing from their
original purpose and end, and falsifying their legitimate and highest idea;a liability and a capacity, which involve the corresponding capacity of deriving impulse from  the recollections of the past, and hope from  the prospects
of the future,-and of gathering into the steady and strong current of her
sober, matronly blood, a fresh, buoyant, and hopeful pulsation.  Her spirit is
capable of refreshment; her energy can be recruited; her resources of' enterprise and hope can be augmented; and the whole tone of her sentiments can
be enriched and deepened.  And 1 think it is the feeling of us all, that the
purposes of this celebration, will fail to be worthily answered, unless, while
we individually are repairing our strength, and renewing our youthful vows
at her shrines, and relighting our torches at her sacred fires, and imbibing
health and joy again, under the inspiration of sky, mountain and lake,
which her humanities first taught us rightly to admire; and while gazing
with a poetic rapture of fancy, and the warm heart of personal affection, on
the " happy hills" and   fields beloved" of this magnificent scenery, we
seem again
1" To feel the gales that from them blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
As waving fresh their gladsome wing
Our weary souls they seem to soothe
And redolent ofJoy and youth
To breathe a second spring," —
unless, I say, these accessions of strength and hope and impulse shall all be
brought back, concentrated into a permanent tribute, upon our "' fostermother" herself, so as to bring into present conscious activity within her,
the whole life and energy which she has imparted separately to the successive
generations of her children.
If this is the feeling with which we come up to this family gathering-e
feeling jealous of the honor of our Alma Mal[ter, tender of her interests and
fame, vigilant to avert any evil which may threaten her and to aid and foster
whatever may enhance her prosperity and power, then shall we be able to
exert such a reflex influence upon her, and pour back such a tide of strength




PROCEED INGS.                            125
and vitality and genial hope into her bosom as shall inspire to new enterprize
and new works for the enlightenment and stability of the times, and for the
benefit of mankind.
10. The Memory of PaRO. JAMES MARSH.
Rev. Z. BLISS of the class of 1831, who was expected to respond to this
sentiment not being present, Prof. TORREY was called upon, but from  the
lateness of the hour declined to speak; he however has furnished the following notes of what he would have said had time permitted:
Ma. PRESIDENT:-I am sorry that the gentleman who was to respond to
that sentiment, has not found it possible to be present with us as he expected
to be. From such a warm and appreciating admirer of Prof. Marsh as he
was we should have heard just what ought to be said, and from the right
quarter. I am sorry for it on my own account; but still more on yours 
for doubtless it would have been your choice to have had the eulogy of that
great and good man of whom this University has ever been so justly proud,
come in the shape of a tribute from one of your own body; and his absence
deprives you of a treat for which nothing which it will be in my power to say
can be any adequate compensation. It is true, I still retain the same profound conviction which I ever had of the intellectual power-the same high
sense of the personal worth-I still cherish among my most precious recollections the faithful, self-denying, self-sacrificing devotion to the interests of
our University-of that man, of' whom without disparagement to any other
one of the worthies who adorn the short annals of our institution and whose
nemories also we fondly cherish, we may say that he stands chief' among the
names we have to boast of-but cold must be the best tribute that I can bring
to honor him whom I could only call my friend, compared with the affectionate
expressions of grateful remembrance which would have flowed from the full
heart of one who once sat at his feet a beloved and admiring disciple.
But as you have called me up, I will do what 1 can, at the brief notice and
in the short time allowed me, to show the claims of James Marsh to be considered as one of the brightest ornaments and greatest benefactors of the University of Vermont.
To revive the past which mey have faded from the distinct recollection of
some here present, let me first recall a few of the more noticeable events that
signalized Prof. Marsh's connection with the University. And I maybegin
by saying that she knew him long before he came here-as early as the year
1821, when he was applied to, informally, to stand as a candidate for the presidency.  That same staunch friend of the University so honorably noticed
this mornin(, Prof. Arthur L. Porter, wrote, at the request of several gentlemnen of respectability in Burlington, requesting Mr. Marsh to allow  his
name to be brought forward, and expressing a strong confidence that he
would be elected if there could be any assurance of his accepting the appointment. As some explanation, perhaps, of the reason for applying to so young
a man to fill so important a post,-Mr. Marsh was then only about 27, —he
says, the general plan of policy which the board have determined on with
respect to future appointments is that of selecting young men of talents and
enterprize who will grow up with the institution and identify their interests
with it. Mr. Marsh had not yet quite completed his professional education.
But he had already established a reputation in the literary world and was
widely known as a scholar and an accomplished instructor. He was known
North and South; had been two years a tutor at Dartmouth College; had
visited Cambridge, New ltaven, Princeton, Philadelphia, and everywhere left
behind him the same impression of great talents, rare attainments and enthusiastic devotion to letters. But his time for taking the presidential chair at
16




126                        P RO C EE DIN6G S,
Burlington was not yet come. Five years more must first pass over his head,
to be filled up with various, and some of' it sonmewhat stern experience of encounter with what he presumed to cill that great bug-bear, the world, which,
alluding to his nonilnation here in 1821, he said he dreaded even at a distance, while to meet it fa;ce to face as president of a College would require
more courage, and as he fetared, more self-colmmand, than lie could hope to
possess. At length, in the Autumn of 1826, summoned fron llampden Sydney
to his native State, he took his place at the head of this institution.  What
he did-how much he had to struggle with and how much he accomplished
in the seven  years of Jacob  service during which he  held  the  presidential office, it is unnecessary for me to recount.  The story has already been
told.  But.these years, every one of which bore testimony of the talents,
industry and enterprize of the scholarly matn, could not be called years of
prosperity to the College.  She still made little or no visible progress.
Whatever reputation she gained, was reputation abroaLd rather than at lhome.
Atlength in 1833 affairs came to a crisis, and Dr. Marsh felt compelled to
resign his post as president, still retaining, however, in another capacity his
connexion with the University. For two or three years he continued to devote himself, with unaa.taed zeal and enthusiasm, to instructing the hiigher
classes in his fatvorite branches of study, when for some reason which I hlave
never heard fully explained, he lost heart, and began to think and talk of
withdrawing hin)self wholly from the institution. Then it was that the undergraduates,-some here present will, I doulat not, remember it, came forward with a petition entreating him, for their own sake and that of the
College, not to abandon it, for-said they-"- we confidently believe there is
not another man in the country capable of making good the place which yeu
now hold." And well might they say so. Dr. Marsh listened to this hearty expressionof confidence and attachment: and having made up his mind to remain,
troubled with no fitrther doubts with regard to his position, he labored on,
through evil and good report, earnestly striving to promote in every good
way the interests of the University, till his untimely death removed him, too
soon, alas! for the accomplishment of his noble plans, and for the realization
of our high hopes, to a better world.
And now for a word or two on his character.  But let me observe that I am
not going to attempt any ambitious picture, any elaborate eulogy —a thing
which would be quite out of place, quite out of keeping with the present
occasion.  All I aim at is a rough outline of the more striking features such
as most of you will recognize at once.
The most striking characteristic of his intellectual character was deep good
sense.  The bent of his mind was rather meditative than speculative.  lie
was more attracted to the practical thatn the theoretical side of philosophy.
He took no delight in speculation on its own account,  lIe never suffered
himself to be lost in barren abstractions of the understanding.  His thoughts
dwelt habitually in a region from  which the descent was always easy and
natural to the common interests of life.  It was generally allowed that Dr.
V.Marsh possessed great powers as a thinker, but few. I imagine, were aware
of the eminently practical spirit by which these uncommon powers of thought
were restrained and directed.
The culture he had bestowed on himself was liberal in the largest sense. It
branched out in all the directions of thought, feeling and fancy. It was a most
broad and generous culture. He pushed his inquiries into every field, and
sought to mnake hilnself familiar with every discipline by which the human
mind is capable of imljrovemnent.  He was as muchat home in worksof imagination and of taste as in those of pure science and philosophy.  In extent of
learning he may have had his equals or superiors; in perfect command of it none
could excel him.  His learning was so digested into the very sub stance and
tissue of his soul as to seem incapable of displaying itself otherwise than as
the blood in a healthy body, which shows itself, not in spots, but through the
whole transparent texture itself produces.




PRO C E E DING S,                               127
To pass to other qualities, less lofty and obtrusive, but which served most
of all to secure or win the attffections of his friends and pupils, and to stamp
his memory indelibly on their hearts; these. like the features of his face,the
moral helauty of which only a few could appreciate at a glance, were for the
most part hidden fromn such as did not, as many of you did, enjoy the advant-age of'daily intercourse wtvith him.
I begin with one of them whlich you will readily recognize-the absence of
all pret,.nce in him'; perfect guilelessness and simplicity of heart.  This was
the qutlity which lhe admired and loved miost in others' and which he most
carefillly and jetalo)usly watched over in himself. "'I'ow many occasions," said
he once,', templt us to encoulnter pride with pride, and the petty artifices of
itself-interest with the exhibition of the like worldly wisdonm.  On such occasions I alwitys recur with double pleasure  to the character of simplicity
and frankness, and the sincerity with which I have learned to admire it as
the best security of my own."  So natural wis t}his virtue to him, that few
perhaps thouglit it wtLs  a conquest he had achieved over himself.  It seat upon
him with so unconscious a grace, that many mistook it for L temperament, and
some mioht smile over it as a, weaikness.  But they who were so unfortunate
as to make such a mistake and to think they might take advantage of it were
soon undeceived.  As no man was more fr'ank, so none had a quicker perception of everything like trick and deception in others.  And none could punish
it with words of keener rebuke.  It seemed the only thing capable of stirring
up his meek and quiet spirit to something like passion, which when it was
th us aroused fbund expression in a moral scorn that few would choose to encounter more than once.
Another genuine thing in him was his modesty-and how genuine it was,
how becoming, how dignified with self'-respect, how uniform, constant, pervading; for it was the same everywhere, in his family, in the social circle, before his pupils, before the world.  It ranl through, encircled and bound
together all his other fine qualities like a girdle of the graces.  How seldom
do we see such modesty coupled with  the consciousness of such powers.
Looking  over lately some of his earlier letters, I have been struck with two
thins;  first the consciousness he had of powers that ought to command respect, and would eventually find a befitting place fi)r their exercise; secondly
his disdainful aversion to the doing of anything for the mere purpose of pushin(g himself into notice.  To be still, vwas not the way, as he well knew, to gain
the objects of ambition or to attract the observation of the many; since as
Shak,speare says, " things in motion sooner catch  the eye than whatnot
stirs." But, said he, it w(as never my wish to have all the curs of the country
barking at my heels.  He chose they should follow those who would whistle
for them, and leave him to pursue the even tenor of his way in peace.
I might go on to speak of other traits which must be fresh in the recollection of all who knew himl-his love for his friends-his generosity to themhis hospitality to strangers-the pains he took to seek them out and to entertain them —his conversational powers always exercised in the riRht time and
place and with so much good sense and discrimination of' character, his genial
humor, his quick eye to discern talents and worth in olscurity, and hand
always extended in relief to the indigent student.  But tiilie would fhil me to
go into these particulars.  To sumll up the whole then in a word, he was
an  eminently  good man; a humble, earnest, devoted Christian; scrupulously just, generously benevolent, delicately  conscientious.  If the peace
of God was written-ias some one remarked it was,-legibly on his irow,
the grace of God manifested itself no less plainly in the meek virtues which
shone forth in his daily life.  Let the U. V. XI., continue to be blessed and
honored with such ien for her presidents and instructors, and all else she
might ask for, or seem to want, would, as we might confidently hope, comie
along in its proper time.




P RO C RD IN   S.
At this point in the proceedings several of the letters which had been
received by the Committee of Arrangements from distinguished gentlemen,
and especially from some of the Alumni in distant parts, were read by
C. F. DAVEY, EsQ.
Letter from  DR. JAMES MURDOCK, of New Haven, Ct., Professor of
Languages in the University, from 1815 to 1819.
NEw HAVEN, June 2d, 1854.
PROF. CALVIN PEASE,
Dear Sir:-In November last, I received the printed Circular of the Com-.
mittee of' the University of Vermont, and also your manuscript letter, Inviting
me to attend the Semi-centennial Anniversary of the University, on the 2nd
day of August next, and I can assure you, the University is still very dear to
me; and most happy should I be to attend on that interesting occasion, if
circumstances would permit. But circumstances beyond my control have
obliged me to form arrangements for the summer, which will prevent my
being with you. I beg you therefore to excuse me to the Committee, and to
the Faculty; and to assure them, that I still feel a strong attachment to
that literary institution, and great delight in its present prosperity, and its
future brilliant prospects.
WVith high respect fbr yourself, and the worthy gentlemen, your associates
in office, I am, very sincerely, yours,
JAS. MURDOC CK.
Letter from PROF. SHEDD, of the class of 1839.
THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY, 1
AUBURN, Nov. 1, 1853.
To PROFr. CALVIN PEASE, Chairman 4'c.
DEAR SIR:-I have just received the notice of the intended celebration of
the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Commencement at the University of Vermont
and an invitation to be present upon that occasion.
I had until very recently expected to enjoy the pleasure of mingling with
the Alumni of the University on the 2d of August 1854, but a sudden and
unexpected change in my relations will prevent me from so doing.
The Anniversary of the Andover Theological Seminary occurs next year,
for the first time, upon the first Wednesday of August, and the examinations
which immediately precede that day, tooether with other duties devolving
upon me, will render it impossible for me to be absent at that time.
I desire to express to the Committee my deep regret in being deprived of
the privilege of meeting my Brethren of the Alumni, and my unabated
interest in the prosperity of an institution to which we are ourselves so much
indebted, and which has contributed so much, with very limited external
means, to diffuse a higher literary spirit and a more thorough scholarship
over the whole Country.
oYours very respectfully,
W. G. T. SHEDD.
Letter from A. B. SPOONER, ESQ.
PETERSBURG, Va., October 28th, 1853.
To CALVIN PEASE, HENRY J. RAYMOND, C. F. DAVEY, and others,
Committee 4-c., sac.
GENTLEMEN:-Your kind invitation, dated at the University of Vermont,
the 10th October, 1853, was received, by due course of mail, and perused




P      R  C E   DING SI                     129
with much pleasure.  It would afford me the highest satisfaction to be present at the Anniversary, to vwhich you allude.  If it shall be in my power to
go, without great inconvenience, I shall surely be present, on the day and at
the place referred to. But as to the prohabilities, I much fear it will not be
in my power to be present.  The time is not near at hand, and it is impossible
to foresee what events may transpire during the intervening period. But
from. the best consideration I can now give the subject, the chances seeIn to
be, that I shall not be able to go. If unable to go, when the proper period
arrives, no one can regret the deprivation, as much as I shall.
For some vears. I have felt a strong desire to visit again the scenes of my
College life, and mingle again in greetings and conversation with those of
my old College friends, who are still alive.  As to how many there are, and
who they are, who are still alive, I am uninformed.
Assuring you gentlemen, that I have never ceased to feel the deepest interest in the success and prosperity of muy Alma Mater, I remain with particular respect, yours truly &c.
ALDEN BURTON SPOONER.
Letter from REv. WILLARD PRESTON, D. D. President of the University,
the year 1825-6.
SAVANNAH, June 10th, 1854.
GENTLEMEN:-Your circular inviting my presence at the " Fiftieth Anniversary of the University of Vermont," was a few days since received, for
which, and the hope expressed on the margin of it, of my acceptance of the
kind invitation, please accept my sincere thanks. Be assured, gentlemen,
that it would afford me great pleasure to be present on an occasion of such
deep interest.
But as 1 will not be able tc, visit the North this summer, I am obliged,
most respectfully, to forego the pleasure of complying with the invitation.
With best wishes for the prosperity of the University, and your individual,
personal happiness, I am gentlemen, your obedient servant,
W. PRESTON.
To Messrs. C. PEASE, H. J. RaPYMON), C. F. DAVEY, B. B. NEWTON, N. G.
CLARK, R. J. HALE, J. W. HICKOK.
Letter from the graduates of the University in California.
SAN FRANcISCO, CALIrORNIA, June 30th, 1854.
TO PROF. CALVIN PEASE, and others,
Committee of Invitation for Celebration of the Semi-centennzal Anniversary of the University of Vermont.
SinRS:-Your letters of notice and invitation, requesting us to be present to
participate in the festivities of the approaching Fiftieth Anniversary of the
University of Vermont, we have received.
We feel assured, that no one of the Alumni would willingly be absent from
a festival, in celebrating which all should unite. But we find ourselves compelled
by circumstances to forego the pleasures of an occasion, so rare, so important,
and so dear to all who have shared the toils and honors of the academical
course, as well as to all friends of the Institution, and the cause of exalted
American Education.
HiLving consulted together here, and corresponded with others in different
parts of the State, we found it to be, not only impossible to be present with
you, each in person, but we failed in our attempts to send a delegate. In
this manner, therefore, by letter, we unitedly return you our sincere thanks




130                        P  Ro C    ED IIN G S  
fbr your kind remembrance of us, and express our regrets that we cannot
share with you a pleasure, which we nimay never again be permitte(e to enjoy.
In ageo. varying from twenty-five to forty years, we cannot, many of usreasontably hope and expect to witness the commencement of 1904, the Centennial Anniversary of our Alma TMater.  Be assured, then, that though we
cannot be with you in person, we shall be in spirit,-to live over ngaftin the
past-to recall the scenes, associations, and fhces, which were fitmiliar and
clear to us, when the " world" was conamaratively unknown, and active life
but in anticipation.
While we would hold in grateful remembrance all who were associated wi;h
us within the college halls, we would particulalrly b)ear in remembrance those,
who, by their beneficent Ilhbors, instructed  and fitted us for the duties of
thoughtful, active, and useful lii'e; atnd we hope alnd trust that their influence
will live and be potent in us, even when they shall have disappeared from the
walks of men.
Wishing you, gentlemen, many years of health and happiness and our beloved Institution increasing vitality and prosperity, permit us to subscribe
ourselves your friends and obedient servants,JAIES VAN NESS, Graduated  1825, Profession, Law.
GEO. K. PLATT,        "      1833,       6 "
GEO. [1. PECK,'"    1837,  " 9 "        6
HENRY B. JANES,       "      1838,  " 4    "
W~ILLIAMI HIGBY,      4"    18401),          
C.M. BROSNAN MaIster's Degrree,1840     "',
FREDERICK BILLINGS,  "       1844,       "     C
HORACE JANES,          6     1844,       "     6
D  B. NORTHROP,       "      1844, " "
JOIIN G. HALE,         "6    1845,    Clergyman.
SAA.C SAWYER BELCHER,'      1846, Profession, Law.
Louis R. LULL,        "      1846,.6    6
C. T. HoPKINS,         6     1847,       "'   6
WnM. 1I. O'GRADY,     "      1848, Teach er, (Supt. Pub, Schools.)
AIF, RED RIX,         "6    1848, Prolfession, Law.
T. S. HALL,           "      1850,       "     6
I. L.DODGE, Master's Degree 1851,'" "
P. S. It may be pleasing to you to know that it is the intention of the
Alumni in California, to have a re-union at San Francisco on Commencement
day.
Letter from  James WV. Marsh, Esq., second son of the late Prof.
MAarsh.
HONOLULU, OAHIU. }
January 20th, 1854.
To CALVIN PEASE, Chairman &c.
Sm:-Your notification of the semi-centennial anniversary of the University
of Vermont, to occur on the 2d August, 1854, was duly received by the last
mail. In acknowledging it, I am  sorry to be obliged to state that there is
very little probability that I shall be able to be present on the occasion. My
expectation now is, that the old problem of the -scholar in the world,"-in
this case, in a very anomalous portion of the world too —will engage me too
closely to allow of so long a trip.  You will readily believe that hardly anythinfg could give me more pleasure than to join your company, and you will
not doubt that though far distant in space, recollections, sympathies and
good wishes will be with you around your " hospitable board."
The members of our association have been widely scattered, and the anniversary will probably gather representatives from almost all parts, at least




PRO C  E:DIN  GS                             131
of the territory of the United States.  I cannot but hope and believe thfat
from their meeting much good  will result not only to the individual members, but also to our parent institution. Thle more I consider the latter the
nore do I feel that its good is a thing to be desired by us all, not only as foster
children, but firom the strongest considerations of puliic welfare.
As I recall tile different imembers of the Alumni of our Almatl Mater with
whose position I am acquainted —and consider the healtitful influence they in
general have exerted and are exerting, in very various spheres of action, and
in -widely separated parts of the earth, the prayer spontaneously arises, not
only that she may be perpetuated in her children, and that, as her family increases, she may impaLrt to every member of it her own character for high
aimns and an e.Lrnest and m LgnLaniLnous  spirit, but that she herself may
abide:-and a sentiment, doubtless common to us all, often suggests itself:
Our Alma CMaterlI —My she still be a radiating centre  for the light of
knowledge  and the warmlth of truth, so long as the peaks ot the Green Mlountains look donwn upon her site.
Be pleaLsed, ir, t) accept fbr yourself and the other members of the Cominittee, my hearty thlan!us for the invitation, and believe that I am, with
much respect and esteem1
Your very obedient servant,
JAS. AW. iMARSH.
Letter from WTILLIAM WARNsER, EsQ., late Treasurer of' the University.
STrEA3IER SAMIUIL ~WARD, LAKE SUPERIOR,
July 20th, 1854.
To PROF. CALVIN PEaSE, Chairman C/C.
Sri: -1 much regret to find, as t do, that business engagements will deprive me of the pleasure mInd profit I had hoped to enjoy from being present at
the approaching Semli-centennial celebration to be held by the Associate
Alumni of the University of Vermont.  To be sure, I am  not a regular, native menmber of that bodgy; but certainly it is a, most pleasing reflection to
me, that I have boeen made a member of it by election and adoption.
Circumstances and relations, in which you acted no unimportant part,
have led me to become pretty thoroughly acquainted with the history and
spirit of the University.  That acquaintance, I am  gratified to acknowledge,
has had the effect to increase nmy desire for the greater growth and influence
of the Institution.  Nor has that desire been a mere ineffectual, unproductive feeling.  In the discharge of officiall duties, and in following the obvious
leadings of Providence, through a long series of sharp and urgent necessities
and struggles, you and 1, with others, "  good and true," have been called to
see and feel pecuniary embarrassments press down the University like a
choking nightmare, exhausting her energies and abridging her power of
usefulness. Our hearts were intensely moved. The plain story of her perils,
wants and claims, was told to a people. taLught, in a manner, to appreciate
her relations and importance to the highest well being of the State, and to
civilized and cultivated existence, generally.  We have again looked, and
beheld her emerging like the rising sun, from her lowest depression and assuming the mien Land forms of strength and stability, with resources placed at
her conmmand, for accomplishing, with efficiency, the great purposes for
which she was organized.
As you and sorme others are well tware, extremely emergent circumstances,
botht in the condition of the Trealsury and thle Executive branch of the University, forced upon my hands the shaping and m;lnaLgement of the subscription of 1846-7.  In that undertakin-g, it was propo)sd to raise $100,000)
No subscription was to become binding unless $50,000 should be subscribed,




132                      P R O C E E D I NG 8 
by bona fide and responsible subscribers, on or before the 1st day of March
1847.  Within the time limited, there was subscribed as follows:
In Boston and Hartford,                               $3,805
In New York City,                                       2,106
In Burlington upwards of                               19,000
In other parts of Vermont and its adjacencles,         25,089
Total,                                     $50,000
Of this sum nearly $30,000 were secured in Vermont and its immediate
neighborhood, after commencement in August 184 —less than seven months
time. This subscription was the largest, by fir, ever taken up in behalf of
the University.  In proportion to its amount, it cost quite as little as any
other; it has been better paid up than any other; and it added, relatively,
quite as much as any other to the vital interests of the Institution. Perhaips
the avails of it were applied in a way tin repairs, the support and payment
of officers and other creditors) which presented to the public less relative
show of progress than that of 1834; but no one, even in proportion to its
amount, ever added more to the real strength; the vital power and stability
of the Institution.  Events which are past, and events which are occasionally
transpiring, seem to render this statement due to the subscribers, to the
actuaries of the enterprise, to the University itself.
No man is so indifferent or insensible, as to have nothing. in which to delight or glory.  Some will incline to one thing and some to another, tho
object depending, in each individual instance, partly on circumstances, but
chiefly on the law governing the inward being. But who would exchange the
proud satisfaction vouchsafed to him, who is conscious of having been primarily instrumental in building up and establishing the good fortunes and
fame of an Institution, such as the University of Vermont, for all the material wealth that avarice, or enterprise ever amassed-for all the praise and
preferment ambition ever realized-for all the honors ever decreed to the
most successful conqueror!
The history of the subscription of 1847, teaches several important lessons 
-what confidence the citizens of Burlington, and the good people of Vermont
generally, have in the character, instruction and discipline of the Universitythe importance attached to the University by the good and intelligent of the
State and its vicinity. as being a great common interest, a fundamental part
in the mighty structure of christian civilization —what strong hold a great
movement in behalf of science and good letters, will take on the practical
feelings and judgement of the people, and how sure such a movement is to
succeed, when planned in wisdom and carried forward with manly argument
and a vigorous will.
As I shall not be able to be with you to see, hear and enjoy, on the occasion referred to, suffer me to send forward the following propositions, as
being entitled to prominence in the mind of every christian citizen, statesman
or scholar, capable of being stocked with fundamental ideas or well grounded
in first principles:
1. We believe that higher Institutions of Learning are essential to the
proper perfection and usefulness of the learned professions.
2. We believe that such Institutions are necessary to keep alive the spirit
of learning; that they are the parent source of popular education, and the
general intelligence of the masses.
3. We believe that they are the great nurseries ofjust and manly thinking;
of freedom and her appropriate institutions.
4. We believe that they are essential to carry out and make real, in active
practical life, the doctrines respecting equality and mutual interests, promulgated by our revolutionary fathers, in their ever memorable Declaration of
Rights; that without such institutions, these doctrines would be only abstractions, mere paper-theories, having no corresponding fulfilment, in matter




P R O C E ED I NGS  133
of fact life; but that with them properly endowed and conducted, these doctrines will have a realization in the experience, condition and history of the
people.
5. We believe that such institutions form the fundamental agency, in the
system of means adopted by the wise and patriotic, in all ages, for originating
and diffusing the light of knowledge; for unfolding and perfecting the moral
and intellectual energies of the people; for realizing in the individual spirit
the ultimate principles of reason and conscience; for establishing and transmitting that condition of Society, where the highest perfection of the individual shall be identical with the highest aims of the commonwealth; for carrying forward both the community and the different individuals composing
it to the ultimate ends of being.
I am well aware, Sir, that these propositions require argument and illustration to make their immense import readily and justly appreciated.  But
with the statement of them, merely, drawn up among strangers, and in the
"'noise and confusion" of a crowded Steamer,
I subscribe myself, with honest respect,
Your obedient servant,
WILLIAM  WARNER.
Letter from Mr. E. D. SHATTUCK, of the class of 1848.
OREGON CITY, January 6, 1854.
TO CALVIN PEASE, Chairman c}.c
DEAR SIn:-The circular containing the notice of exercises attending the
Fiftieth Anniversary of the U. V. MI., and an invitation to be present on that
occasion, was received by the last mail-. I regret that distance, the expense,
risks and hardships of triavel, as well as the great loss of time and consequent
interruption to my work here, will render it impracticable for me to be
present.  i know not when I shall again see the pleasant site of my Alma:{Mater, or commune again with the congenial spirits, that have connected joy
with my youthful associations. Yet I cannot forget the generous influences
I experienced at the University, and the paternal instructions and counsels of
its worthy faculty. My heart is with it, and I hope that all its graduates
may do it honor by suitable efforts to diffuse knowledge among meli and to
strengthen the bonds of' christian society. I hope the U. V. M. free from embarrassments and strong in its troops of friends may find its second half century as prosperous, as its first has been marked by conflicts and victories.
With high respect, I remain your friend and obedient servant,
E. D. SHATTUCK.
Letter from HON. TITUS HUTCIINSON, Corporator from 1810 to 1825.
WOODSTOCK, Vt., January 16th, 1854.
To CALVIN PEASE, Chairman 4kc.
DEAR SIR:-Some weeks since, I received a circular of yourself and others,
and your individual letter.
I feel truly grateful for the honorable recollection of me, which your communication indicates. But I should do wrong to give you much encouragement, that I should report myself at your commencement. The infirmities of
age are upon me, and my powers of hearing are so decayed, that I cannot expect to receive or communicate much profit or satisfaction, oa such an occasion.
My wishes are, as they ever have been, favorable, perseveringly so, to the
prosperity of the University. And I hope all the anticipated good will result
firom the meeting together of the Alumni, and other friends of the institution.
With my sincere regards for yourself and your assoaciates s. a committee,
I:aubscrihe myself,
Your O bedient.Servant,
TITUS IHUTCLNSON.E
17




134                           P It O CEE D INGS.
11. The HON. JOSEPH  MWILLIAMSON,  of Belfast, Me., a graduate of the
*We have painful occasion to notice, in this connection, the decease of Hon. JoserEP
WILLrAIrso ON, a few weeks after the festival into the spirit of which he seemed to enter so
heartily, and to whose inat-srest and value he made so large a contribution. The following
obituary is taken from the Maine Free Press of October 5th, and the Proceedings of the
Bar of which he was an honored member, from the Repzcblican Journal of October (th.
OBIT ARY.- Died hll this city, Sept. 30th, loH. JOSEPH AWILLIAsASN, aged 05 years.
His death was sudden, and supposed to have been occasiored by an affection of the heart.
He had been engaged on Saturday in professional business5 until nearly 8 o'clock in the
evening, and expired soon after reaching his home.
iMr.  V. was born in Connecticut, received his collegiate edsucation in Vermont, and
commenced his professional life in this village, where he has lived nearly forty years.
He has filled offices of responsibility and trust, having been county attorney for several
years, and for two years was a senator from this county, in one of which he was chosen
and filled the office of president of that body.
But the great part of his life has been assiduously devoted to the duties of his
profession. Iils attelntion to his business was unreimitted, and no one of his employers
ever complained of any lack of interest, fidelity and earnestness in his cause. Honorable
and highminded in his professional character, he secured the respect and confidence of
his brethren at the bar. His death closes the Career of the earlier attornies of this city,
and leaves tLe field open to another generation.
Of a benevolent disposition, his influence was ever on the side of good order and
social improvement, and he  contributed  liberally  towards the  means  of their
accomplishment.
His desire for the growth and prosperity of the town never abated, and he contributed
largely of his wealth for its permanent expansion. It would be difficult to point to
another individual who has left so many substantial evidences of a genuine public spirit.
Into his dom. stic relations it seems hardly proper to intrude. It is but a short time since
they were disrupted by the loss of his companion, whose place has never been filled'
Before this affliction came, his social disposition often called his neighbors and
acquaintances to his happy home, where the pleasant evening was passed with nothing to
Regret but the quickness of its flight.
Mr. W. had none of those striking characteristics, calculated to arrest the gaze of the
public- but he possesssd those elements of chars eter-that unbending integrity and
purity of purpose, which cause an unbroken exclamation that, by his death, the city ha.
lost one of its best citizens.
S., J. Court, October Term, 1854;
At the close of the sitting of Tuesdays, a meeting of the bar was held in the court room
of which N. Abbott, Esq., was chaibman, and N. fH. Ilubbard, Esq., secretary.
A. T. Palmer, Esq., was appointed to draw up a resolution, expressive of esteem
and respect for their late brother, Hdn. Joseph ]Williamson, and report the same in
court on Wednesday at 12 o'clock, M., and to move that the court adjourn to attend the
funeral of the deceased.
On Wednesday, at noon, Mr. Palmer addressed the court as follows:
I as! leave of your Honor to perform a melancholy duty which has been assigned me
for thsi hour.
The court has already been called to take painful notice, that one of our members,
who of all of us was most constant in his attendance here, is no longer amongst us. 1lis
chair is vacant, and the place hitherto occupied by him is now to know him no more
forever.
On Sunday morning last, our community were deeply and sorrowfully moved by the
sad announcement that our esteemed brother Williamson had in a single brief hour after
the close of his professional duties of the previous day, been called to close his earthly
career.
It was allotted to me by the bar, to call the attention of the court in a formal manner
to the melancholy fact, that another of those most honored among our members, has
followed to that bourne whence no traveler returns, the but recently departed Wilson,
Crosby, Johnson and Thayer.
Alas! how few of those your honor was wont to meet at our bar, are now left with us!
And among all of us who remain, who is more untiring in his devotion to the duties
which our profession imposes; who can be more faithful to the interest committed to his




P R O C E E D I N GS.                            135
class of 1]812, next introduced a sentiment similar to the foregoing with the
following interesting remarks.
charge; who more unvaryingly respectful and attentive to the bench or more uniformly
~courteous and kind to his associates at the bar, than he who has last been called away.
May it please your honor, I think the justest praise, the truest respect, may be yielded
to that devotion and faithfulness which strives hard and steadily to fulfil the duties of
that station in life to which it hath pleased Providence to assign us.
in that devotion and preserving faithfulness our brother was marked and eminent.
For nearly forty years, he has been a prominent citizen in our community, and for
many of those years has occupied places of trust and honor. He was a public spirited
citizen, ready to engage in all measures tending to promote the great interest of the
commnunity in which he lived, and his anxiety for this end seemed to increase as his last
years drew on. He has always been a warm1 friend of education and in all the duties of
social life a highly exemplary man.  But in other than professional relations and those
pertaining to them, it belongs not to t.his time and place, to speak at length. The holy
sorrow of those who mleurn himl in dearer and more intimate relations should not be
broken upon by the voice of cold public commnendation, however just.
It rem tins for us to place at the side of our professional life-path, some memorial of
him, that those who come after, may mark wherein he did well and emulate his example.
I have to move the court that the following resolution, which is the voice of the bar, be
entered upon the record of the court, and that this court do now adjourn to attend the
funeral of our deceased brother.
Resolved, That in the decease of the HON. JosEaPe  WILLIAMISON, the members of this
bar have lost a much valued friend and brother; one who through a protracted professional life, by faithful and indefatigable devotion united to an unvarying amenity of
manners, deservedly enjoyed the fullest confidence of the public, and the highest esteem
and respect of his professional brethren.
In response to the resolution, Judge Tenney remarked:
I cordially concur in the sentiments which have been expressed at the bar, and those
embraced in the resolution which has just been read.
My acquaintance with the deceased was not early, but since he has been known to
me, personally and professionally, that knowledge has been such as to command for him
my respect and esteem.
He was a worthy memnber of an honorable profession, and was a striking example of
intimate attachment, to its pursuits. He was remarkable for his attention to business,
and persevering industry therein.
At the term of this court, which I first attended, the deceased had the entire charge of
the criminal business, which was unusually large and important, as the prosecuting
officer of the state; and in the discharge of his official duties, I was struck with his
fidelity to the public, without any desire to oppress the accused. Ile discovered abilitfy,
and the business was managed with discretion, and the designs of the law were never
better accomplish ed.
In his connection with civil proceedings in court, as a counsellor, he never lost sight of
the interests of his clients; and his deportment towards his professional adversary, was
eminently courteous, and to the court, such as always to secure its approbation; and his
labors as a lawyer were successful.  He always felt that he was a member of a profession,
and that he was not engaged in the business of a trade. IHe will long be remembered at
the ba,., and the recollection of him must have a good influence upon its members.
As a citizen, his efforts were those which always contributed largely to the publio
good, and will be regarded as examples worthy of imitation.  As a friend and neighbor,
he will not soon be forgotten.
This is not the place to say much of his character in connection with his family. But
I cannot refrain from saying, that I have met at his own home, the husband, the wife,
the parent and lthe children, in the real loveliness which is the legitimate fruit of these
relations; and the survivors will long feel their great loss, and the desolation occasioned
by his deathIt is my wish to express my respect for the memory of the deceased, and sympathy
with his family and friends, by joining my brethren of the Bar in attending his funeral.
It was then ordered, that the resolution of the Bar be entered upon the rqcords, and
the court immediately adjourned.




136  R O c E ROC                      D IIN G S.
It is with peculiar pleasure that I am enabled to make my pilgrimage to
this seat of learning, and join in the festivities of this Semi-centennial
Anniversary.  But the occasion is saddened by the thought that so few faces
familiar in my college days now meet my eye. Such as I do see, however,
have awakened the most pleasant reminiscences and will continue to be
cherished in recollection to mav latest breath.
I cannot forbear recurrin? to the early history of this University as contrasted with its present condition. 1 entered this college in 1808, and left it
in 1812.  President Sanders andl Professor Dean, were our only instructors
durinff the first three years-Professor Chamberlain having been inaugurated
Professor of the learned lanouages in 1811.  The average number of students
did not exceed 30 or 40. There were some peculiarities, perhaps advantages,
attending this small number.  No one could play truant.  Each and all were
obliged to get their lessons or take a reprimand for their delinquency.  Like
all small communities, each knew all about his neighbor's business and capacity-chareacters were scanned with the utmost scrutiny, and woe to him, who
in manners, in morals, in scholarship fell below  the standard set up by this
little tribunal  Talents and acquisitions being weighed, it was predicted long
before commencement, how the parts would be distributed-who would receive the salutatory, who the valedictory, who the philosophical oration, and
who would be paraded on the stage for the less welcome performances of conference and colloquy. It seemed even to be settled what profession each one
would select and what sort of figure he would make in it.
The social feelings were cultivated without limitation to classes; for whenever kindred spirits met, there were extended the fraternal hand and heart.
In this way, a friendship was cemented, which, for one, I can say, has never
been abated by time or distance. Indeed I cherish the recollection of my Alma
{Mater, and dollege friendsl  with increasing fondness as I advance in years;
and whenever 1 read or hear of the fame or usefulness of my college contemporaries or any of the Alumni of this University, I feel all the pride and
exultation common to sons of the same parent. I may be prepossessed in their
favor; but whenever I have met with graduates from  this college, I have
found them not surpassed, if equalled, by those emanating from any other
college, in generous hearts, pure morals and high intellectual attainments.
It may be because the University is located in the good state of Vermonta state so distinguished for her puritanical principles, her patriotism and her
men of eminence.
It is said that the multiplication of books and dissemination of knowledge
constitute one of the distinguishing features of this progressive age. Under
this head, I know of nothing, which has undergone a greater improvement
than newspaper and periodical literature   Forty or fifty years ago, a publisher of a newspaper supposed that he fulfilled the requirement of his subscribers, if, with the advertisements. it contained the doings of Congress, a
few foreign items, deaths and marriages, and dead letters in the Post Office.
No able commentaries on every sul-ject, as now, were found under its editorial
head, no classical pens of foreign correspondents enriched its columns-and
as for periodicals, they were rare aves, now  and then a straggling one
meagre in size and more meagre in matter, It may therefore be safely
asserted that there is more literature in the New York Daily, Times, or the
New York Daily Post, than could have been found in all the newspapers and
magazines in those days put together.
But if the students of this college in my day did not enjoy the luxury of
miscellaneous reading, they had wholesome food for the mind.  Our college
and Phi Sigma Nu Libraries, scanty as they were, contained many valuable
books, especially the British classics and standard works of history.  These
were perhaps read more thoroughly than they would have been if the shelves
had been as well filled as they now are.
There having been no churches in this town, the commencement exercises
were held in the old Court House till the year 1812.  A church was then in




P R O C              E D IN Gs.              137
process of erection, and the workmen suspended their labors to give opportunity for commencement, and my class was the first who graduated in a
church.
The old college. which was burnt, was a beautiful specimen of architecture.
Yet the floors were in a rough unplaned state, nor did any carpet grace any
of the halls or students' rooms, and ldoubt whether there were many in town.
I well recollect t'hat, on all occasions of comtnencements and public exhibitions, we were indebted to Col. Buel, for his parlor carpet. It was of noble
size and more than covered the area of the stage; and many an oration and
poem and conference and colloquy had been delivered from  that carpet to an
admiring audience.
Another circumstance may be alluded to as regards the appearance of
this place. But very few houses had ever felt a painter's brush. Neither the
college, nor President's house had ever been painted, at least their exterior.
Col. Sawyer kept hotel No. 1, in Court House Square; Judge Livingston of
the Supreme Court of the United States, was his guest, and he pronounced it
not exceeded by any one in his circuit. It had never been painted.  The old
Court house retained its sun-burnt, dingy color, when I turned my back upon
it in 1812.
But with all these defects, Burlington was the most beautiful spot for aliterary
institution that ever the sun shone upon. 1 shall never forget the impression
it made upon my mind, as I approached it for the first time to enter the Freshman class in 1808.  The town was situated on a gentle declivity.  On the
back ground stood the stately college edifice with its twelve chimrnies and
tower in the center.  In front was spread out the broad bosom of the lake,
now whitened by the canvass of sloops, now dotted by the old Steamer Fulton
as she ploughed through the deep on her weekly trips between Whitehall and
St. Johns.  This was aamin skirted by the dense forests of Peru.  On the
South, were stretched along the sunny, level, fertile fields of good old Shelburne and Charlotte, and on the East thundered the cataract of Colchester,
and to render the scenery still more enchanting, were seen in the distance the
summits of the ever green mountains.
But on returning to this place, rendered sacred by my college associations,
after so many years' absence, I cannot help perceiving how much the hand of
art and of wealth has done to embellish and improve the picture.  The stumpy
common in flont of the college is converted into a beautif'ul park; and magnificent public and private edifices with tasteful gardens, and shrubbery and
trees meet the eye at every turn.  Amidst all these, have arisen your churches,
the glory and beauty of New England; and to crown the whole, the waters
of this lake have become consecrated by the splendid victory at Plattsburg h.
Surely if here are not materials for the inspiratioa of the poet, then there is
no such thing as inspiration.
Rn. PRESIDENT, permit me to close my remarks with a sentiment.
Our University:-May she become as famous for her scholars as she is
distinguishedfor the beautiful scenery which surrounds her.
It had now become too late to proceed farther with the exercises and the
remaining sentiments and speeches were postponed until the Corporation
dinner on the day following.  HoN. H. J. IRAYMOND, in the absence of the
President, presided at the dinner on Wednesday, and in connection with
other sentiments proper to the occasion, announced those omitted the day
before, as follows:




i138                      P R O C E E D I N G S.
12. Our Sister Instit7ttions.
DR). HORACE GREEN, LL. D. President of the New York Medical College,
-being called up, responded as follows:
MIR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN:-At our festival yesterday, the, creed of
Athe Alumni of the University of Vermont, was announced to us. In the first
article of that creed 1 am inclined to express my unbelief.  I am not, Sir, an
Alumnus of this University, nor have I the honor of' belonging (in course) to
the Alumni of any literary institution.  Why, Sir, when the University of
Vermont was struggling for existence, during the years of 1819 and 1820. I
was striving to obtain an education, and was occupied a part of that timie, in
carrying provisions on my back, as I did, a weekly supply, every Monday.morning, from  my Mother's house, (it was all she could do for me) a disitance of' several miles,. to a small room I hlad obtained in the vicinity of the
Academy,'' that I might, thereby, enjoy the instruction of its teacher-an
>early Alumnus of this Institution.  In this way, or under similar adverse
circumstances, I obtained my early education.  Therefore it was, Sir, that.I expressed my unbelief in the creed of your Alumni; for, had these gentlemen any " conscience," they would not, under these circumstances, have
called on me to address them!
Christopher North, in one of his charming essays, alludes to a beautiful
glen among the Highlands, (which, should any of' you gentlemen ever visit
Scotlht.ld, you roust not fail to see) called Glencro.  You ascend the umoun-,tain by a rugged path, and after considerable toil gain a summit from which a
glorious view  is obtained; and here, on a stone  seat are engraved these
-words —" Rest and be thankful."  For a time you do rest and enjoy thankfully wt at you have ach-ieved.  But at length, you look up, and see, towering
over your head, a crag, and above it another, and yet another, glowing in the.sunshine; and, perhaps, high above all, —for it is a fivorite resort of the
noble bird-an eagle, resting in mid-air on his almost motionless wings. You
are now no longer-inclined to rest and be thankful, or to be satisfied with the
eminence you have attained.  You long to stand on the towering cliff' above
you; nay, you even wish you were an ettgle, that you might soar above all,
and from the azure throne look down on all below.
Thus has it been with me, Mr. PRESIDENT, since I came here, and have
listened to the eloquence, and have marked the results of the mental training
of those who, in these IHalls of Learling, have enjoyed those advantages
which, in early life, I so eagerly courted-but in vain.  It has brought back
a remembrance of the sleepless nights passed during this period of my youth,
in thinking how, or by what means, I could olbtain a liberal education; and,
as I have seen others high above me on the steep of learning, I lhave disdained
to rest in my appointed place, and have felt that even now, could I do it, I
would gladly buckle on the armor, and enter the lists of' the student.  But,
Sir, I can no more become the orator or the scholar I would have been, than
I can soar with the mountain eagle.  One thing, however, I may do, and
this I am ready to perfom.  As I have remembered my early ambition, and
the obstacles to its attainment, I have often thought, that if 1 knew of the
Vermont boy who through like difficulties, was struggling for an education,
I would gladly give to one or two such aspirants, the aid necessary to enable
them to fulfil their praise-worthy intentions.
13. Our Honorary Graduates.
REV. WILLARD CHILD, D. D., of Lowell, Mass,, responded as follows:
MR. PRESIDENT:-I anm not about to preach a sermon to prove my claim to
the honors of the University, although I hold in my handsome notes. Thp
notes you may believe are a pledge of brevity, and not a threat of prolixity.




P R 0 C EE D IN G S.:39
1 suppose, Sir, that I am called upon to answer for such an honorable body,
on the same principle that my father used to begin with the least of the
children, when, on a good old Connecticut Saturday night, he asked us the
questions of the Asseml-)ly's CGtechisin. You need not wonder at all at the
association which calls up such a memory, for the best part of fiiy small
quialification to le called aL Doctor in Theology, was then obtained.
Or, it is possible that I am asked to speak for such men of' renown on the
ground that the gratitude may be expected to be proportionate to the extent
of the favor conferred, and that from me a word of praise is anticipated as
for an honor with a speciali gracia, and if so, it is quite likely you may
regret that your endowment could not confer power as well as honor.  But
Sir, you have this for your consolation, and in thwat consolation I shall participate, that your Institution is not dependent for its honor upon any man's
dinner speech.  She has enough of her own nurtured sons. as well as of her
sisters' sons whom she has graced with her badges, and her benignant smiles,
who " praise her in the gates" both of the church and of the state.
If I were called upon to name the respect in which this University has
performed the most valuable service in the cause of' human cultivation, and
deserved best the gratitude of the world, I should say, without hesitation, as
the pioneer in the investigations, and the teachings of a more spiritual philosophy, than that which had, for a long time satisfied the scholars of' our
country.  This is not the time for anything more than a glance at so grave a
theme.  But let me just say that it was perhaps natural that a college, to
which the pole-star was more nearly vertical than to any other in the land,
should be soonest stirred to the inquiry whether there were not some point in
the spiritual universe by a reference to which the method of its movements
might be scientifically interpreted, instead of our being left to the mercy of an
ever shifting empiricism.  Ard if', at the outset, sonie of the  wise Doctors did
shake their heads, and prognosticate disaster, because the boys at Burlington
were "1 tanmpering with Coleridge and the German philosophy," I believe that
the alarm has pretty well past, and that it is now quite generally allowed,
that there are some things in heaven and earth, of which if the old sensual
philosophy dreamed, it- could do little else but dream.  And 1 believe that, at
this moment, it is no little comfort to some of the venerable prognosticators
of evil, that one of youri gifted sons expounds the philosophy, which he here
learned to love, in an Institution which we all revere, and in whose character
the cause of religion and learning has a deep stake.
But speaking now in behalf of these who have received the honorary degrees
of this University, 1 am  sure that they cannot but esteem those honors more
highly, when they know  that they themselves are regarded by those who
conferred theml, as possessing the manly attributes of Reason and Conscience,
and  not -merely as a better sort of' animals, only a little more richly endowed
with the faculty judging according to sense.  And if so, then much more
would they prefer that the young men of our land should be taught thus to
estimate themselves, and under such convictions to cultivate their powers
and exert their influence, and seek the true ends of their being, rather than
merely to sharpen and furnish their understandings so that they may adroitly
fiame their worldly desires, and achieve their worldly ends.
But, Sir, the recipients of your honorary degrees, are equally interested
in your future prosperity, as in your past honorable history.  They shine by
your light, and if that light fade, thev must suffer disastrous eclipse.  If no
better reasons. then,existed for their desire that your future should be worthy
of your past, their amor propria at least would move them to say not only
esto perpe/ua but lo triumphe.
Allow me to close with the following sentiment:
The  University of Vermont: —May  her Alumni ever be men having




140                      P R OC   E D I N G S.
Reason and Conscience, and manly understandings; and may the recipients
of her honorary degrees have grace to justify her favor towards them.
14. Our Invited Guests.
CHIEF JUSTICE REDFIELD, LL. D., responded as follows:1 regret, MR. PRESIDENT, that it should have been deemed desirable, or
expedient, to call me out here, for a speech! a dinner speech! a thing I
never attempted, and when 1 have been, for nearly twenty years, altogether
disused to speeches ot any kind.
But since I am called upon, 1 will say one word, and that in regard to what
must be done for the University of Vermont. For without intending to
forget, or to depreciate my own Alma Mater. in a neighboring state, I cannot
but feel, that this college is my college. It is the college of the state, and
this is my native state, where I have spent all my life, and where I expect to
spend what remains, where have been my labors, and where are my hopes for
the future.
Allow me then to say, that you must combine your colleges. As Parsons
said of a legal opinion, " It is well enough, the opinion, but the reasons for
the opinion, there are too many of them, unless they are better." So too of
our colleges, there are too many of them, till they are better. And when we
have fewer, they will be better, and not till then, 1 fear. I cannot speak of
the mode of effecting so desirable an end, but the thing must and can be done.
And the sooner the better, for all concerned.
And then the University of Vermont must be endowed. And endowed, not
only so as to support its faculty of teachers and governors, but endowed
with scholarships and fellowships. You need the English scholarships, and
fellowships, which are not, *as some seem to suppose, merely sufficient to
defray the expense of tuition, but sufficient to meet all the expenses, of the
student, and thus to enable the poorest lad in the state, who has talent and
health, to obtain all the advantages of college education, and by means of
a fellowship to continue his studies, afterwards, to any desirable extent,
within the college.
And then these scholarships and fellowships, held in trust, and under the
control of the University, will be accessible to all, in the order of merit, and
will thus afford the most unexceptionable basis, for college honors and preferments. Something of this kind is,, in my judgment, desirable, if not
indispensable, to the highest attainments, the most s:ltisfactory results, in
discipline, both upon the moral and intellectual constitution and development
of the students. But of this 1 cannot speak.
But in regard to endowments, you must have them, and you can have them.
We have twenty millions invested in railroads, and we could invest twenty
millions more in banks, if it would pay interest! And will it be said, that
half a million, or a million, for the State College or University, is a thing
impossible, when it is proposed to establish an entire system of endowments,
including scholarships and fellowships? But will it be said the thing is not
needful l What could the English Universities, or the continental Universities, (the German Universities, and others) have done, without their
endowments l Literally nothing. They would have ceased to exist, long ago
And you have here before you one man, [Dr. Green,] with large means, and
a soul large enough to propose something of this kind, if he can only have
an-opportunity, which offers a reasonable chance of accomplishing good.
And 1 do not say, when you go out into the land, you will find many such
men, just such men, for I think such offers are uncommon, but you will find
manv similar men, imbued with a similar spirit but perhaps with less means,
and less enthusiasm, but all willing to do something. And allow me to say,
that.such an iun.dertaking; must be content to labor long and grow slowly. It
is not a thing to be accomplished -in a day, perhaps niot i  in- one, or:- in-ten




P RO CEE D IN G S.                            141
generations, but it can be done, it must be done, before our colleges can perform
their just duty to the states. And when you have secured this endowment,
we may justly hope, that this college will be able to perform those important
and almost indispensable duties, which she owes to the state, and which she
cannot perform without such endowments.  And that this is no novelty,
even in the United States, no quixoteism  of my own, is readily seen.  The
venerable Dr. Nott, of Union College has just now established a large number
of these scholarships, and perhaps fellowships, in that college.  And it will
have to be done here, and everywhere, in the land, and then the colleges will
be able to perform  their great functions, in keeping up  healthy action
throughout the body politic, and in all its departments.
NOTE.-It is a fact of some significance in this connexion perhaps, and one certainly
calculated to effect minds which look with distrust upon the practicability of such
enterprises, that the expense of imported cigars, in this country, is not less than a
million dollars annually, and that the expense of tobacco consumed in the country, in all
forms, amounts to many millions annually, more than the expense of all our colleges, and
many times over; enough in fifty years to endow as many colleges, as the country
really needs in the most ample manner. And these vast sums are literally flung away burned
up to poison and debase mankind.  I notice this, not because I have any hope of being
able to convert the expense of vicious habits and indulgences to the support of learning,
or virtue. The time is long past, when such anticipations seemed to me among the
probable results of future progress. I now expect, that as long as the present order of
things continues, virtue and vice must co-exist, and that their concomitants, ignorance and
crime, and suffering and want, on the one hand, and knowledge, temperance, purity and
comfort, on the other, must content themselves in a common dwelling place. But it is
something to contend for the mastery of evil. And this is man's mission here. And he
is justified in calling to his aid all the elements of a successful warfare, both of men and
money, of learning and law.
15, The Patrons of the University of Vermont.
The response to this sentiment was made by Ex-Prof. G. W. BENEDICT,
as follows:
MRa. PRESIDENT:-At first it seemed to me out of place that an ex-professor,
and one not a graduate of the University, should be called upon to respond to
the sentiment just announced.  Yet considering my long connexion with the
Institution,-the multiplicity of the relations which I sustained in it, not
only as a teacher, but in reference to its material interests,and the consequent
necessity thus imposed upon me of studying its history, and its relations to
the community, —  am obliged to own that the task assigned to me, is not so
incongruous as it otherwise would be.
Seven years ago, being then the oldest officer in the Faculty, I was forced
to the conclusion that my health must soon fail me if my labors could not be
lessened; and able to foresee for myself only increasing toil with growing
inability to perform  it, I thought it wiser to end my connexion with the
Institution voluntarily, than to wait till necessity might compel such a result.
Yet it is but justice to myself to say, that to cut the tie which 1 had believed
would hold for my life time,-to leave associates with wfhom I had labored so
long and so happily, if not with as great success as they had,-to end, for the
rest of my life, my daily personal interest in that flowing stream  of youthful
mind which is seen, like the streamlets firom many hill sides, to trickle annually
into the Institution, and which, after circulating there under its influences for
three or four years, rushes forth to unite its own swollen force with that of
the general tide of influential manhood in the world, required of me an effort
of will, such as 1 have rarely had to make.
But if since that day, other duties have had my attention, they have not
destroyed the influence of my former associations. I am here to-day, in spirit
as well as in body. Why should 1 not be T Has any professor in the Institution, at this meeting, met the smile of recognition from more of its Alumni,
18




142                      PROCEEDI N G S.
especially those of the last thirty years, —than I have, or taken more of themn by
the right hand than myself.  Was not I too, the intimate friend and companion of those teachers, now at rest from earthly labors, whose memory is
embalmed in the hearts of all who knew them,-whose priceless qualities
again brought before us, have awakened afresh the sorrow which we felt when
they parted from our sight? We have been told of trials which the Institution has passed through, within the same period. Did not I share in them?
If hours of darkness in its history were followed by those of light, was not I
one to rejoice rightfully with others in the change?  True, another Institution, honorable in the list of New England Colleges, claims me rightfully as
an alumnus, for my pupilage was spent within her walls, and I bear her
credentials; but in the vigor of manhood I bound myself to the University of
Vermont. The strength of my life was used to strengthen hers.  What
powers God gave to me, were employed to enlarge her usefulness, and this
celebration of her fiftieth anniversary seems to concerns me as lmuch, and it
interests me as deeply, as any one in this large assembly.
MR. PRESIDENT: —I have listened with most gratified attention to all that
has been said on this occasion. The history of the University, for its first
half century, has been made to pass before our eyes. Most graphically have
many of the scenes in it been illustrated by those who had been concerned in
their action, or who had studied their story. Yet here, as in all else which
belongs to humanity, the unwritten portion is the largest, and so it must
remain. Trhe picture which has been unrolled before our eyes is at best, but
a sketch, and it never can be anything more. If I add a few touches, I hope
they will neither blur or deform it.
When I came here, I was an entire stranger to the Institution and to every
person connected with it, to the region round about, and to all its inhabitants. Why I came, I can hardly tell.  Certainly the inducements held out
to me were slight enough.  The member of the Corporation, Hon. Titus
Hutchinson, who called upon me, then a resident in another State, to ask if I
would consent to be a candidate for the professorship of Mathematics and
Natural Philosophy, told me that the college building was burned down, that
the Institution had met with many difficulties, and had poverty to contend
with. Through the generosity of individuals, chiefly the Inhabitants of
Burlington, a partial rebuilding was to be commenced as soon as mild weather
would justify such operations, but a slow growth was to be looked for, in his
judgement. For salary, he could promise but $600 per annum, and that not;
very regularly paid. There was however a freedom from discouragement in
all that he said, and a confidence in the continued life and ultimate strength
of the Institution, which won my sympathy, and gained my assent to his
proposal.
I came here in May I825. The ruins of the fire had been cleared away, but
not a building was to be seen-only preparations for the north part of the
present structure.  Its foundation had been laid a few days before. In a
corner room of a deserted storehouse, on the north end of the green which now
is, (it was chiefly a cornfield then) I was shown a few baskets full of books of
a very motley character, said to have been snatched from the fire. In another
place were one or two old bits of cheap philosophical apparatus saved in like
manner.  There was-all the material part of the Institution, so far it was:
visible to my eyes. It was vacation, and no students were about. In a few
days some came together, and they were gathered for morning and evening
prayers, in the vacant area of the old storehouse just named. For recitations,
they met in sundry places in the neighborhood, where room could be found for
the benches and chairs on which they sat. I well remember too, that in one of
those rooms, there was a black board, about two feet long and two and a half
feet wide, which the student could keep in its place by one hand, while he
made his diagram  on it with the other. If the professor needed more ample
space for illustration, was not all thefloor before him?




PROCEEDINGS.                                143
To me therefore, everything was like the beginning of an Institution, on a
Ym-ost humble scale too, rather than like one in actual and sure progress. Not
only so, but for a time everything seemed unstable. Within a few months, all
the teachers-myself excepted —left for other fields of usefulness, and even a
second professor of languages came and left, within the first two years. None
of the present instructeors were partakers in that experience.  Professor
Torrey, the oldest member of the present Faculty, did not come on to the
ground till after Mr. Marsh had assumed the Presidency. At that time, the
students were occupying the buildings which had been erected, and though
the arrangements for public rooms in them were rude and temporary, and
the hours for public exercises were made known by no more dignified sound
than that of a tin-horn, things were relatively in their proper places. Some
apparatus had been procured. There was an order of business, and a course
of recitations and lectures, such as was pursued in the other Colleges of this
country.
The meagre condition in which 1 found the University's affairs when I
joined it, and the frequent changes in its snall corps of teachers, which I
just now spoke of, though they tried my spirit some, and gave force to strong
inducements offered to me if I would go elsewhere, did not dishearten me, as
they did many others. 1 saw plainly enough, that the plant was small and to
outward appearance feeble, but I looked upon it as the young stock of a mighty
tree-so much the more needful was it, that it should not be neglected in its
early feebleness. Many in the community said it would die, —that it was in
a soil which could give it no nourishment,-and what was worse, had an
incurable vice in its very constitution. I believed neither the one statement
nor the other. Within the first six months of my stay, a faith in its life, in
its sure, though probably slow growth, took full possession of me, which,
from that day to the present, has never lost its hold.
However weighty I found the unanticipated and irregular labors which,
beginning to alight on my shoulders soon after I came here, were only multiplied and varied as year followed year,-however trying to my spirit I found
the irreparable loss of time, which for twenty two years I had to suffer, from
being forced to give hours and days without number to contriving and preparing make-shifts to supply the want of proper apparatus to teach my own
classes with, when I should have had the time for my own improvement and
the better instruction of my pupils,-severe as I felt the losses to be, which the
Institution had to suffer, from the removal of instructers by death or otherwise,
I say again, that discouragement as to its perpetuity, as to its growing
importance to the community, 1 never felt,-never.
Mn. PRESIDENT:-to the sustaining power of the faith which I have spoken
of, was I indebted, under God's blessing, for much of my ability, so far as I had
any, to accomplish anything for the maintenance and enlargement of the
DUniversity. I will state briefly what were its grounds.  I said, that at the
beginning of my service in it, the Institution appeared as if just coming into
life. Of course, I knew that it had passed through an uneasy and fitful
existence of twenty five years or more-an existence which some, whose grief
for the moment had overpowered their judgment, and others, whose unfriendly
sentiment was father to their shallow conclusion, believed had run its entire
race when the fire had destroyed the place of its daily operations. I was not
long in making myself pretty well acquainted with its history up to that
time.
The deliberation and care which marked the proceedings of its original
incorporation,-the generous and patriotic feeling of its founders,-the
breadth of vision which they displayed, when, disregarding the conditions of
precocious success, they placed it in the centre of a wide field, which, though
a wilderness for the most part, sagacious statesmen foresaw must, within a
century, be filled with the homes of a numerous and thriving population, were
omens which, in my estimation, far more than counterbalanced those which
superficial minds had seen in the failure of this or that man's business




144                     P ROCE E D I NG S
schemes, in occasional mistakes of administration, in the partial unfitness of one
teacher or another-in the cant phrases of disparagement which local rivalry
had put in circulation,-in the interruptions from war and in the accident of a
fire. Troubles of all those kinds were no novelties in the history of Colleges.
Time would remove their traces here as it had elsewhere, if there were elements
of permanent life to work upon; and I was sure I saw them here. This was
one ground of tmy faith.
Firm however as that was. there was another which stood in a closer relation to my own feelings, for it furnished material which human sympathies
and human influences could make available within the compass of one man's
life. This was my confidence in the PATRONS of the Institution.
So much has been said, and so well said by others, of the pecuniary difficulties which the Institution has had to contend with, that some may
think more on that topic cannot he interesting on this occasion. Yet considering how the subject lies before my mind, something more ought to be
said, and here is the place, and this is the time to say it.
I disparage not the early legislative action which established the University.
I give full credit to the enlarged views, the condition in which the state then
was being taken into account, of the controlling minds in the General Assembly
of that day, and I concede the importance of the original endowment, as
far as it has been, or can be available. It is plain however, that even then, by
far the greatest reliance was placed on what was to be done from private generosity. The large purposes and liberal acts of the Hon. Ira Allen were worthy of
a man of his comprehensive and patriotic mind. Frustrated, as in a great
measure they were, by the misfortunes which befel him, and by one of those
accidents of legal management which are so common in new countries, and
which sometimes occur in advanced and cautious states of society, they
nevertheless rendered a most important service. His sagacious counsels and
his acts as a public man are familiar to those who have studied carefully the
history of Vermont. I-is enlarged dnd generous views as v iews as a Founder and
Patron of the University ought to be remembered, and his name to be honored
in the Institution through all generations yet to come.
But as the case was, his effirts might have come to nought, but for the
combined exertions and liberality of the inhabitants of BURLTNGTON.'The
story of their early enthusiasm, the hearty assistance which they brought to
the work, while as yet only in patches could the sunlight find its way to their
soil, through the native forests which covered it, you have heard something
of, and I need not to repeat it. I learned that story however, from some of
the principal actors in it when I came here; and when I saw that the ardor of
the youth still lived in the steady interest of the man,-that when the destruction at noonday had, in an hour, swept fiom their sight the works and
the gifts of twenty five-years, its effect was to push out of sight all personal
differences and social disagreements, and to unite them more strongly than ever
to restore what was lost, as far as in their power, had I not ground for an
assurance that if time should again bring an hour of need, substantial help
from the same source would come with it? Need did come again, not for
help to restore, but to sustain and to enlarge, and thatassurance was justified.
MR. PRESIDENT:-Born as I was in another State, coming here only to labor
in the University, and till I left it, having no business connexion with this
place, and unconnected by natural ties with its inhabitants, I have a right to
say on this subject, what perhaps would be less decorous for me to say under
other conditions, or were I yet an officer of the Institution.
I cannot specify individuals, where there have been so many, nor would it
be suitable here. Neither, when I speak of the inhabitants of' Burlington as
generous patrons of the University during the whole period of its existence,
will any one understand me to apply that appellation indiscriminately,-nor
to say that there have not been great differences of degree in their generosity,
-nor yet again to say that in directly aiding the Institution, they did not
sometimes consider that indirect benefits, less or more, would in time accrue




P R    C E E D I N G S.                   145
to themselves or to their families. On that score, all proper allowance may
be made here, as would have to be made anywhere else, under like circumstances. I make it now, and yet I say that the encouragement of the teachers
under severe privations, the enlarged facilities for instruction, and the general
elevation of the Institution from its humble state when I came to it. to the
one which it holds this day, have resulted in a very great degree indeed, from
the fast friendship and repeated liberality of which I have just spoken.
On this subject I speak from no hearsay. In the performance of my duty
to the University, I believe I had to test this feeling quite as often as any
one ever connected with it. Whether the end to be accomplished was small
or great, the result was substantially the same. Rebuffs might be met at the
outset in some instances,-impatience might sometimes be shown (for it is not
in human nature to look always at any subject from the same point of view);
but, to inquire, to listen, to understand the reasons for the measure, to
discuss the consequences or the time of the movement, to show an intelligent
and generous interest in the Institution for the present and for the future,
and to give assurance of aid, were almost sure to follow; and none were more
ready to give that aid than those who had freely done so before. The
testimony of others who have had occasion to make similar appeals, I am
sure, would agree fully with my own.
In giving this tribute of acknowledgement to its friends here, I do not
forget the generosity which has been shown to the Institution by those of
other places. Previous to the subscription of 1833-4, not much had been
given with a view to any noticeable enlargement of its operations. To help
make a beginning, to aid in keeping alive, to restore what had been destroyed,
were the objects thought of before that time. For some of these purposes
many small sums had been given by the people of the vicinity, and a few
larger sums by generous and sympathizing friends who lived more remotely.
The subscription which I have just alluded to, hada more comprehensive aim,
and the cause of education, as embodied here, was presented to many who
had known very little of the Institution previously.
In carrying out that effort abroad, nothing more surprised me (for I had
something to do with it) than the strange, and sometimes amusing notions
which I found in the minds of many, not only in other states but in Vermont
also, about the character, condition and objects of the Institution. With
many, its corporate title, i" The University of Vermont," was a great stone
of stumbling. They took it for granted, that in its constitution, it was no
ways akin to the other Colleges of New England,-that in some way, (thev
had never stopped to ask how,) it had a special connexion with the state as
a political organization, and that its teachers were appointed by the General
Assembly and removeable at its pleasure, as its own officers are, and being
thus, as they supposed, a political, State College, it was surprising that men
who were willing to do something individually, to help on the cause of education and religion, should be asked to countenance it by their aid! Others
again, had indeed understood that it got along rather slowly, but had supposed
that the chief reason of that lay in its being smothered with wealth from the
bounty of the State, —so that its officers had no inducements to work, and
thus they had failed to interest and allure students!
Others had received the impression that the people of Burlington had never
done much of anything for the University, and did not feel any interest in it.
Others said there ought to be but one College in the State, and this being the
feeblest, it was the best way to let it go down. Others again, looked upon it
as set up in opposition to Middlebury College, (it having been chartered
before that, by several years, they made no account of) and that it had met
with the frowns of Providence in consequence. The destruction of it by fire,
and the severe affliction which befell President Haskell at the same time,
were regarded very much in the light of special judgements —" they should
almost be afraid to go there." How many times did I hear of the reply
which was made to a stranger who was asking some one for the reason of the




146                      P RO C E ED ING S.
great disparity in numbers in the two Colleges in Vermont: "The State
takes care of Burlington College, and the Lord takes care of Middlebury
College," the sufficiency of the explanation lying in the smartness of the
epigram! Something like an odium theologicum, which had found life years
before, in some parts of the State, to the disfavor of the University, was not
wholly dead yet. It had been quickened into fresh activity by an undefined
fear which had got possession of some minds, (how I do not pretend to say,)
that there was something particularly dangerous in Dr. Marsh   What
the trouble was, I could never get any one to state with any precision, nor
indeed to come any nearer to an explanation than to say that " he was
understood to be very unsound."
Such unreasonable fancies were not to be found everywhere, of course, but
widely enough to effect a great deal of mischief, and to hinder seriously those
who were employed in raisino the subscription for the University. I believe
they did not find it a difficult matter to remove the false impression about the
people of Burlington, and to convince those with whom they had occasion to
discuss such topics, that they might dismiss all fears that the University
would die from repletion, or the members of its faculty from idleness. As for
Dr. Marsh's influence, they might rest assured that no harm to soul or body,
would come to any one from an intercourse with that great and good man.
It was quite true that all his metaphysical opinions did not agree with those
of some writers on such subjects; but he read and believed in the same
Bible, prayed to the same God, and hoped for salvation through the same
Saviour, as his fellow christians did.
It was not the least of the benefits which came from that subscription, not
only to this Institution but to others also, and to the general cause of education in Vermont, that many who had without inquiry or reflection adopted
such absurd and injurious notions as I have spoken of, were disabused, and
brought to look upon the Colleges of the State with juster views than they
had possessed before. Many, fiom that time, laid aside the habit of regarding
them in the injurious light of rivals to each other, and began to realize that
they are all, in the same sense, institutions of the State, intended for the
advancement of education and the promotion of the public good, —that all
ought to be fairly and properly sustained by the people, and that the special
-friends of one have neither the occasion nor the right to be hostile to the others.
Certain it was, that he who began with objections, often ended by expressing
his good will, and he who had thus far confined his bounty to one, frequently
decided that it should not be so restricted for time to come.
Other benefits which accrued from  that and from subsequent efforts, I
cannot particularly allude to, though I would gladly enlarge on so grateful a topic, did time allow. Large donations and bequests,to constitute
permanent foundations, such as many Colleges have received, thus far,
this Institution has not been favored with.  It must wait its time.
Scattered abroad in country and city, they who have contributed to it, are
doubtless fewer than those whose names are. registered on the books of some
other Colleges no older than this. Yet are they not few, and to their free gifts
is the Institution largely indebted for its power to do what it has done. May
the blessing of Him who maketh the soul of the liberal man fat, rest on all
the PATRONS Of the University of Vermont, at home and abroad. Thanks from
all its sons to them while living,-honor to their memory when dead.
But I can not stop here. There are gifts which have other qualities than
those of silver and gold. There is a patronage whose benefits outlast the
works of men's hands. Buildings may go down to dust, books may moulder
and perish, but in an Institution of Learning, the influences of exalted genius
and moral worth are immortal. I refer not to the living, but I cannot omit to
honor the dead. Were not those men, who turned aside from the paths where
wealth and honors were as ready for them as for others, who contented them~elves with scant measure of daily food and raiment, that they might labor for
the Institution in its infancy, might labor to carry it forward under all the




P RO C E EDINGS,                           147
embarrassments which surrounded it, and to make it worthy of an honorable
place among the Colleges of the land.-who aided the weak, checked the
wayward, controlled the headstrong, and encouraged all under their charge in
every good work,-who smiled on the first buddings of genius, watched over
its growth and rejoiced in its fragrance as it came to maturity,-who taught
the young to seek for knowledge as for hid treasures,-to search for truth in
the word and in the works of God, in the history of Man and in the history of
their own souls, and when found, to love it more than life itself,-who themselves led in the way which they counselled others to walk in, —the stamp of
whose moral and intellectual power must remain ineffaceable wherever
the influence of the Institution  shall be felt,-were not they also, its
PATRONS in the noblest sense of the word, and as such shall not they be honored
forever by its children?
Once more, and I have done. The Institution exists for the instruction of
the youth who frequent it; bhut what its living power is, will be best learned
from the men, who when young came under its influence. They come into its
halls with minds possessed by the vague conceptions and effervescing passions
of early life. T'hey enjoy its aids and its opportunities, are surrounded by its
regulations, are sometimes annoyed by its restraints, are moulded by its
discipline, and then go out to take their places as men in the active business of
manhood. Scanty to their view, for a while, may appear the helps which they
have received for the labor which comes Upon them. They are half inclined to
feel that their teachers were incompetent or unfaithfulo
That may, or may not have been the case. Time and experience enables
them to decide that question more justly than they could do, when they had
just left their presence. One thing will be sure. If the Institution did sow
good seed in a good soil, they gradually will find it springing up and bearing
fiuit in their own souls. If it did infuse into their veins good principles,
they find growing strength from them in their bones. Year after year, their
thoughts will go back to the days of their college life with chastened yet
profounder interest, and they will give back, with large i:icrease, the love
which was bestowed upon theim in generous measure, though perhaps they
knew it not at the time.
And has not this occasion given proof of that, most delightful to those who'
have this Institution in their charge at the present time?  From the East,
the West, the North and the South, are her sons here this day to give
utterance to their sympathies. From the wilds of Oregon, from the shores of
the Pacific and fiom the Isles of the Sea, their greetings have reached our
ears. The white haired graduates of fifty years ago. the strong men of middlelife, and the youth who this day begin the next half century of her existence,
are here, to recall the past, to rejoice in and he thankful for the present, and
to send up their prayer to God for its future usefulness and prosperity.
MR. PRESIDENT: —If YOU ask what patronage of the Institution, at this'
time, awakens strongest emotion in my bosom, look around you.
The public exercises of the Semi-centennial Anniversary were then
concluded with the following song, in' the singing of which the wholoe
assembly joined:
ONG 
BY Z. K. PANG'BORN, ESQ., OF THE CLASS OF 1850o,
As wanderers from their place of birth
Their footsteps homeward bendWelcomed, around the dear old hearth
A festal day to spend,




148                     PROCEEDINGS.
So, gathered from our various haunts,
We mingle here our joys;
Our Alma Mater greet —and hope,
She welcomes home her boys.
HIer sons, some old, some young, and some
In manhood's vigorous prime,
Rejoice to find their mother bears
So well the touch of Time;
Through chance and change, through war and fire
She held her onward way;
And half a hundred years conspire
To weave her crown to-day.
All honor to the faithful few,
Who guarded her of old;
That was her'i iron age"-we trust
She'll have her  "age of gold,"
Send forth her sons to every land,
Be free from cares and tears;
And every mother's son will pray
She'll I" live a thousand years."
After the singing of the song the assembly dispersed, with evident indieations of satisfaction and delight.  Each seemed bound to the other with a
closer bond, and to be conscious of a higher obligation to the institution
which had nurtured him. The result of the gathering has made it more
obvious than ever, that no educated man can trace back the stream of
influences and agencies by which his character has been developed and
moulded, without pausing, with peculiar emotions, amid the scenes of his
college life;-emotions peculiar, not so much in their kind, as in their
complexity and variety; not so much in their intensity, as in their richness
and depth.  There may be, in such a review, tenderer scenes and more
sacred memories than those which cluster around academic halls; there
may be friendships, the recollection of which will move the blood with a
quicker pulsation and dim the eye with a more spontaneous tear, than any
which are pledged to companions among the bright and generous ranks of
our associates in study; there may be a reverence more devout than any
which is felt towards venerated teachers, however consecrated in our regards
they may be by their learning, their virtues or the exaltation and worth of
their characters; but there are no influences to which the character is
subjected, which leave their mark so clearly impressed, and which can be so
clearly traced and measured, as those which are exerted amid academic
scenes; and hence it is that our thoughts love to linger around them; to




P R   C E E D I N G S.                     149
subject them to an accurate analysis; to detect their more subtle workings,
that we may estimate their moments and their value.  We love also to live
again, in imagination, under their genial and moulding power; to recall the
affections, the hopes and the aspirations of a time when experience had not
as yet applied its merciless and, too often, reproachful corrective to our
fancies; when we had not as yet become blind to "the glory and the
freshness" of those early dreams, which do still, at times, come back to
reprove our unfaithfulness to the high purpose and pure aspiration of our
youth; or to attest their own prophetic truth by the excellent attainments
and the elevation of character which they have been enabled actually to
reach,
who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, have wrought
Upon the plan that pleased their childish thought.
Happy, thrice happy, the scholar who has thus carried onward, into the
pursuits and practical duties of life, the simplicity and freshness of his earlier
years! who hath not in his viciousness grown hard, so that " the wise gods
seal his eyes and make him adore his errors!" Happy, thrice happy, also,
the scholar, who, from the dust and conflict and jaded weariness of' a
laborious profession, can retire on occasion, into the " chambers of his
imagery;" ut se qucerat priorem: to seek there the fresh and pure visions
of an earlier day, and become inspired again with the buoyant strength and
enterprise of his youth!
We cannot but believe that it has been one effect of this celebration to
revive and cherish feelings of this kind in the Alumni and friends of the
University of Vermont; and if the account, now at its close, of the manner
in which the celebration was conducted, shall tend to perpetuate as well as
indicate these feelings, its chief object will have been reached.
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