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Title: Thoughts on Educational Topics and Institutions

Author: George S. Boutwell

Release date: August 16, 2006 [eBook #19056]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and
        the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS ON EDUCATIONAL TOPICS AND INSTITUTIONS ***




Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net






THOUGHTS

ON

EDUCATIONAL TOPICS

AND

INSTITUTIONS.



BY

GEORGE S. BOUTWELL.



BOSTON:
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY.
MDCCCLIX.


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
GEORGE S. BOUTWELL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.


STEREOTYPED BY
HOBART AND ROBBINS, BOSTON.


To

THE TEACHERS OF MASSACHUSETTS,

WHOSE

ENLIGHTENED DEVOTION TO THEIR DUTIES

HAS

CONTRIBUTED EFFECTUALLY TO THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING,

This Volume

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.
                                      G. S. B.


CONTENTS.

                                                      PAGE
THE INTRINSIC NATURE AND VALUE OF LEARNING, AND ITS
INFLUENCE UPON LABOR,                                    9

EDUCATION AND CRIME,                                    49

REFORMATION OF CHILDREN,                                75

THE CARE AND REFORMATION OF THE NEGLECTED AND EXPOSED
CLASSES OF CHILDREN,                                    86

ELEMENTARY TRAINING IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS,             131

THE RELATIVE MERITS OF PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOLS AND ENDOWED
ACADEMIES,                                             152

THE HIGH SCHOOL SYSTEM,                                164

NORMAL SCHOOL TRAINING,                                203

FEMALE EDUCATION,                                      221

THE INFLUENCE, DUTIES, AND REWARDS, OF TEACHERS,       241

LIBERTY AND LEARNING,                                  274

MASSACHUSETTS SCHOOL FUND,                             308

A SYSTEM OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION,                    339




THE INTRINSIC NATURE AND VALUE OF LEARNING, AND ITS INFLUENCE UPON
LABOR.

[Lecture before the American Institute of Instruction.]


Words and terms have, to different minds, various significations; and we
often find definitions changing in the progress of events. Bailey says
learning is "skill in languages or sciences." To this, Walker adds what
he calls "literature," and "skill in anything, good or bad." Dr. Webster
enlarges the meaning of the word still more, and says, "Learning is the
knowledge of principles or facts received by instruction or study;
acquired knowledge or ideas in any branch of science or literature;
erudition; literature; science; knowledge acquired by experience,
experiment, or observation." Milton gives us a rhetorical definition in
a negative form, which is of equal value, at least, with any authority
yet cited. "And though a linguist," says Milton, "should pride himself
to have all the tongues that Babel cleft the world into, yet if he have
not studied the solid things in them, as well as the words and
lexicons, he were nothing so much to be esteemed a learned man, as any
yeoman or tradesman competently wise in his mother dialect
only."--"Language is but the instrument conveying to us things useful to
be known."

This is kindred to the saying of Locke, that "men of much reading are
greatly learned, but may be little knowing." We must give to the term
_learning_ a broad definition, if we accept Milton's statement that its
end "is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know
God aright;" for this necessarily implies that we are to study carefully
everything relating to the nature of our existence, to the spot and
scene of our existence, with its mysterious phenomena, and its
comparatively unexplained laws. And we must, moreover, always keep in
view the personal relations and duties which the Creator has imposed
upon the members of the human race. The knowledge of these relations and
duties is one form of learning; the disposition and the ability to
observe and practise these relations and duties, is another and a higher
form of learning. The first is the learning of the theologian, the
schoolman; the latter is the learning of the practical Christian. Both
ought to exist; but when they are separated, we place things above
signs, facts above forms, life above ideas. Law and justice ought always
to be united; but when by error, or fraud, or usurpation, they are
separated, we observe the forms of law, but we respect the principles of
justice. This is a good illustration of the principles which guide to a
true distinction in the forms of learning. Of all the definitions
enumerated, we must give to the word _learning_ the broadest
signification. It is safe to accept the statement of the great poet,
that a man may be acquainted with many languages, and yet not be
learned; even as the apostle said he should become as sounding brass or
a tinkling cymbal, if he had not charity, though he spoke with the
tongues of men and angels. Learning includes, no doubt, a knowledge of
the languages, the sciences, and all literature; but it includes also
much else; and this much else may be more important than the enumerated
branches. The term _learned_ has been limited, usually, by exclusive
application to the schoolmen; but it is a matter of doubt, especially in
this country, upon the broad definition laid down, whether there is more
learning in the schools, or out of them. This remark, if true, is no
reflection upon the schools, but much in favor of the world. Those were
dark ages when learning was confined to the schools; and, though we can
never be too grateful for their existence, and the fidelity with which
they preserved the knowledge of other days, that is surely a higher
attainment in the life of the race, when the learning of the world
exceeds the learning of the cloister, the school, and the college.

In a private conversation, Professor Guyot made a remark which seems to
have a public value. "You give to your schools," said he, "credit that
is really due to the world. Looking at America with the eye of an
European, it appears to me that your world is doing more and your
schools are doing less, in the cause of education, than you are inclined
to believe." For one, though I ought, as much as any, to stand for the
schools, I give a qualified assent to the truth of this observation.
There is much learning among us which we cannot trace directly to the
schools; but the schools have introduced and fostered a spirit which has
given to the world the power to make itself learned. It is much easier
to disseminate what is called the spirit of education, than it was to
create that spirit, and preserve it when there were few to do it homage.
For this we are indebted to the schools. Unobserved in the process of
change, but happy in its results, the business of education is not now
confined to professional teachers.

The greatest change of all has been wrought by the attention given to
female education, so that the mother of this generation is not compelled
to rely exclusively upon the school and the paid teacher, public or
private, but can herself, as the teacher ordained by nature, aid her
children in the preparatory studies of life. This power does not often
manifest itself in a regular system of domestic school studies and
discipline, but its influence is felt in a higher home preparation, and
in the exhibition of better ideas of what a school should be. And we may
assume, with all due respect to our maternal ancestry, that this fact is
a modern feature, comparatively, in American civilization. Female
education has given rise to some excesses of opinion and conduct; but
the world is entirely safe, especially the self-styled lords of
creation, and may wisely advocate a system of general education without
regard to sex, and leave the effect to those laws of nature and
revelation which are to all and in all, and cannot permanently be
avoided or disobeyed.

The number of educators has strangely increased, and they often appear
where they might least be expected. We speak of the revival of
education, and think only of the change that has taken place in the last
twenty years in the appropriations of money, the style of school-houses,
and the fitness of professional teachers for the work in which they are
engaged; but these changes, though great, are scarcely more noteworthy
than those that have occurred in the management of our shops, mills, and
farms. When we write the sign or utter the sound which symbolizes
_Teacher_, what figure, being, or qualities, are brought before us? We
_should_ see a person who, in the pursuit of knowledge, is self-moving,
and, in the exercise of the influence which knowledge gives, is able to
appreciate the qualities of others; and who, moreover, possesses enough
of inventive power to devise means by which he can lead pupils,
students, or hearers, in the way they ought to go. We naturally look for
such persons in the lecture-room, the school, and the pulpit. And we
find them there; but they are also to be found in other places. There
are thousands of such men in America, engaged in the active pursuits of
the day. They are farmers, mechanics, merchants, operatives. They do not
often follow text-books, and therefor are none the worse, but much the
better teachers. Insensibly they have taken on the spirit of the teacher
and the school, and, apparently ignorant of the fact, are, in the quiet
pursuits of daily life, leaders of classes following some great thought,
or devoted to some practical investigation. And in one respect these
teachers are of a higher order than _some_--not all, nor most--of our
professional teachers. They never cease to be students. When a man or
woman puts on the garb of the teacher, and throws off the garb of the
student, you will soon find that person so dwindled and dwarfed, that
neither will hang upon the shoulders. This happens sometimes in the
school, but never in the world.

The last twenty-five years have produced two new features in our
civilization, that are at once a cause and a product of learning. I
speak of the Press, and of Associations for mutual improvement.

The newspaper press of America, having its centre in the city of New
York, is more influential than the press of any other country. It may
not be conducted with greater ability; though, if compared with the
English press, the chief difference unfavorable to America is found in
the character of the leading editorial articles. In enterprise, in
telegraphic business, maritime, and political news and information, the
press of the United States is not behind that of Great Britain.

It must, however, be admitted that a given subject is usually more
thoroughly discussed in a single issue from the English press; but it is
by no means certain that public questions are, upon the whole, better
canvassed in England than in America. Indeed, the opposite is probably
true. Our press will follow a subject day after day, with the aid of
new thoughts and facts, until it is well understood by the reader.
European ideas of journalism cannot be followed blindly by the press of
America. The journalist in Europe writes for a select few. His readers
are usually persons of leisure, if they have not always culture and
taste; and the issue of the morning paper is to them what the appearance
of the quarterly, heavy or racy, is to the cultivated American reader.

But the American journalist, whatever his taste may be, cannot afford to
address himself to so small an audience. He writes literally for the
million; for I take it to be no exaggeration to say that paragraphs and
articles are often read by millions of people in America. This fact is
an important one, as it furnishes a good test of the standard taste and
learning of the people. Our press answers the demand which the people
make upon it. The mass of newspaper readers are not, in a scholastic
sense, well-educated persons. Newspaper writers do not, therefore,
trouble themselves about the colleges with their professors, but they
seek rather to gain the attention and secure the support of the great
body of the people, who know nothing of colleges except through the
newspapers. We have always been permitted to infer the intellectual and
moral character of the audiences of Demosthenes, from the orations of
Demosthenes; and may we not also infer the character of the American
people, from the character of the press that they support? In a single
issue may often be found an editorial article upon some question of
present interest; a sermon, address, or speech, from a leading mind of
the country or the world; letters from various quarters of the globe;
extracts from established literary and scientific journals; original
essays upon political, literary, scientific, and religious subjects; and
items of local or general interest for all classes of readers. This
product of the press, in quantity and quality, could not be distributed,
week after week, and year after year, among an ignorant class of people.
It could be accepted by intelligent, thinking, progressive minds only;
and, as a fact necessarily coëxisting, we find the newspaper press
equally essential to the best-educated persons among us. The newspaper
press in America is a century and a half old; but its power does not
antedate this century, and its growth has been chiefly within the last
twenty-five years. What that growth has been may be easily seen by any
one who will compare the daily sheet of the last generation with the
daily sheet of this; and the future of the American press may be easily
predicted by those who consider the progressive influences among us, of
which the newspaper must always be the truest representative.

Within the same brief period of time it has become the fixed custom of
the people to associate together for educational objects.

As a consequence, we have the lyceum for all, libraries for all,
professional institutes and clubs for merchants, mechanics, and farmers,
and, at last, free libraries and lectures for the operatives in the
mills. Where these institutions can exist, there must be a high order of
general learning; and where these institutions do exist, and are
sustained, the learning of the people, whether high or low at any given
moment, must be rapidly improved. Yet some of these agencies--lectures
and libraries, for example--are not free from serious faults. It may
seem rash and indefensible to criticize lectures upon the platform of
the lecturer; but, as the audience can inflict whatever penalty they
please upon the speaker, he will so far assume responsibility as to say
that amusement is not the highest object of a single lecture, and when
sought by managers as the desirable object of a whole course, the
lecture-room becomes a theatre of dissipation; surely not so bad as
other forms of dissipation, but yet so distinctly marked, and so
pernicious in its influence, as to be comparatively unworthy of general
support. Let it not, however, be inferred that wit, humor, and drollery
even, are to be excluded from the lecture-room; but they should always
be employed as means by which information is communicated. Between
lecturers equal in other respects, one with the salt of humor, native to
the soil, should be preferred; but it is a sad reflection upon public
taste, when a person whose entire intellectual capital is wit, humor, or
buffoonery, is preferred to men of solid learning. But it is a worse
view of human nature, when men of real merit and worth depreciate
themselves and lower the public taste, by attempting to do what, at
best, they can have but ill success in, and what they would despise
themselves for, were they to succeed completely. Shakspeare says of a
jester:


     "This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
     And to do that well, craves a kind of wit:

       *       *       *       *       *

                          This is a practice
     As full of labor as a wise man's art:
     For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
     But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit."


A kindred mental dissipation follows in the steps of progress, and
demands aliment from our public libraries. In the selection of books
there is a wide range, from the trashy productions of the fifth-rate
novelist, to stately history and exact science. It is, however, to be
assumed that libraries will not be established until they are wanted,
and that the want will not be pressing until there is a taste for
reading somewhat general. Where this taste exists, it is fair to assume
that it is in some degree elevated. The direction, however, which the
taste of any community is to take, after the establishment of a public
library, depends, in a great degree, upon the selection of books for its
shelves. Two dangers are to be avoided. The first, and greatest, is the
selection of books calculated to degrade the morals or intellect of the
reader. This danger is apparent, and to be shunned needs but to be seen.
Books, of more or less intrinsic value, are so abundant and cheap, that
common men must go out of their way to gather a large collection that
shall not contain works of real merit. But the object should be to
exclude all worthless and pernicious works, and meet and improve the
public taste, by offering it mental food better than that to which it
has been accustomed. The other danger is negative, rather than positive;
but, as books are comparatively worthless when they are not read, it
becomes a matter of great moment to select such as will touch the public
mind at a few points, at least. It is indeed possible, and, under the
guidance of some persons, it would be natural, to encumber the shelves
of a library with _good books_ that might ever remain so, saving only
the contributions made to mould and mice.

Now, if you will pardon a little more fault-finding,--which is, I
confess, a quality without merit, or, as Byron has it,


     "A man must serve his time to every trade
     Save censure--critics all are ready made,"--


I will hazard the opinion that the practice of establishing libraries in
towns for the benefit of a portion of the inhabitants only is likely to
prove pernicious in the end. To be sure, reading for some is better than
reading for none; but reading for all is better than either. In
Massachusetts there is a general law that permits cities and towns to
raise money for the support of libraries; yet the legislature, in a few
cases, has granted charters to library associations. With due deference,
it may very well be suggested, that, where a spirit exists which leads a
few individuals to ask for a charter, it would be better to turn this
spirit into a public channel, that all might enjoy its benefits. And it
will happen, generally, that the establishment of a public library will
be less expensive to the friends of the movement, and the advantages
will be greater; while there will be an additional satisfaction in the
good conferred upon others.

We shall act wisely if we apply to books a maxim of the Greeks: "All
things in common amongst friends." Under this maxim Cicero has
enumerated, as principles of humanity, not to deny one a little running
water, or the lighting his fire by ours, if he has occasion; to give the
best counsel we are able to one who is in doubt or distress; which, says
he, "are things that do good to the person that receives them, and are
no loss or trouble to him that confers them." And he quotes, with
approbation, the words of Ennius:


     "He that directs the wandering traveller
     Doth, as it were, light another's torch by his own;
     Which gives him ne'er the less of light, for that
     It gave another."


A good book is a guide to the reader, and a well-selected library will
be a guide to many. And shall we give a little running water, and turn
aside or choke up the streams of knowledge? light the evening torch, and
leave the immortal mind unillumined? give free counsel to the ignorant
or distressed, when he might easily be qualified to act as his own
counsellor? In July 1856, Mr. Everett gave five hundred dollars toward a
library for the High School in his native town of Dorchester; and in
1854 Mr. Abbott Lawrence gave an equal sum to his native town for the
establishment of a public library. These are not large donations, if we
consider only the amount of money given; but it is difficult to suggest
any other equal appropriation that would be as beneficial, in a public
sense. These donations are noble, because conceived in a spirit of
comprehensive liberality. They are examples worthy of imitation; and I
venture to affirm, there is not one of our New England towns that has
not given to the world a son able to make a similar contribution to the
cause of general learning. Is it too much to believe that a public
library in a town will double the number of persons having a taste for
reading, and consequently double the number of well-educated people?
For, though we are not educated by mere reading, it is yet likely to
happen that one who has a taste for books will also acquire habits of
observation, study, and reflection.

Professional institutes and clubs also serve to increase the sum of
general learning. They have thus far avoided the evil which has waited
or fastened upon similar associations in Europe,--subserviency to
political designs. Every profession or interest of labor has peculiar
ideas and special purposes. These ideas and purposes may be wisely
promoted by distinct organizations. Who can doubt the utility of
associations of merchants, mechanics, and farmers? They furnish
opportunities for the exchange of opinions, the exhibition of products,
the dissemination of ideas, and the knowledge of improvements, that are
thus wisely made the property of all. Knowledge begets knowledge. What
is the distinguishing fact between a good school and a poor one? Is it
not, that in a good school the prevailing public sentiment is on the
side of knowledge and its acquisition? And does not the same fact
distinguish a learned community from an ignorant community? If, in a
village or city of artisans, each one makes a small annual contribution
to the general stock of knowledge, the aggregate progress will be
appreciable, and, most likely, considerable. If, on the other hand, each
one plods by himself, the sum of professional knowledge cannot be
increased, and is likely to be diminished.

The moral of the parable of the ten talents is eminently true in matters
of learning. "Unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have
abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that
which he hath." We cannot conceive of a greater national calamity than
an industrial population delving in mental sluggishness at unrelieved
and unchanging tasks. The manufacture of pins was commenced in England
in 1583, and for two hundred and fifty years she had the exclusive
control of the trade; yet all that period passed away without
improvement, or change in the process; while in America the business was
revolutionized, simplified, and economized one-half, in the period of
five years. In 1840 the valuation of Massachusetts was about three
hundred millions of dollars; but it is certain that a large portion of
this sum should have been set off against the constant impoverishment of
the land, commencing with the settlement of the state,--the natural and
unavoidable result of an ignorant system of farm labor. The revival of
education in America was soon followed by a marked improvement in the
leading industries of the people, and especially in the department of
agriculture. The principle of association has not yet been as beneficial
to the farmers as to the mechanics; but the former are soon to be
compensated for the delay. With the exception of the business of
discovering small planets, which seem to have been created for the
purpose of exciting rivalry among a number of enthusiastic, well-minded,
but comparatively secluded gentlemen, agricultural learning has made the
most marked progress in the last ten years. But an agricultural
population is professionally an inert population; and, therefore, as in
the accumulation of John Jacob Astor's fortune, it was more difficult to
take the first step than to make all the subsequent movements. Now,
however, the principle of association is giving direction and force to
the labors of the farmer; and it is easy for any person to draw to
himself, in that pursuit, the results of the learning of the world.

Libraries and lectures for the operatives in the manufactories
constitute another agency in the cause of general learning. The city of
Lawrence, under the lead of well-known public-spirited gentlemen there,
has the honor of introducing the system in America. A movement, to which
this is kindred, was previously made in England; but that movement had
for its object the education of the operatives in the simple elements of
learning, and among the females in a knowledge of household duties. An
English writer says: "Many employers have already established schools in
connection with their manufactories. From many instances before us, we
may take that of Mr. Morris, of Manchester, who has risen, himself, from
the condition of a factory operative, and who has felt in his own person
the disadvantages under which that class of workmen labor. He has
introduced many judicious improvements. He has spent about one hundred
and fifty pounds in ventilating his mills; and has established a
library, coffee-room, class-room, weekly lectures, and a system of
industrial training. The latter has been established for females, of
whom he employs a great many. This class of girls generally go to the
mills without any knowledge of household duties; they are taught in the
schools to sew, knit," etc.

But, in the provision made at Lawrence for intellectual culture, it is
assumed, very properly, that the operatives are familiar with the
branches usually taught in the public schools. This could not be assumed
of an English manufacturing population, nor, indeed, of any town
population, considered as a whole. Herein America has an advantage over
England. Our laborers occupy a higher standpoint intellectually, and in
that proportion their labors are more effective and economical. The
managers and proprietors at Lawrence were influenced by a desire to
improve the condition of the laborers, and had no regard to any
pecuniary return to themselves, either immediate or remote. And it would
be a sufficient satisfaction to witness the growth of knowledge and
morality, thereby elevating society, and rendering its institutions more
secure.

These higher results will be accompanied, however, by others of
sufficient importance to be considered. When we _hire_, or, what is,
for this inquiry, the same thing, _buy_ that commodity called, _labor_,
what do we expect to get? Is it merely the physical force, the animal
life contained in a given quantity of muscle and bone? In ordinary cases
we expect these, but in all cases we expect something more. We sometimes
buy, and at a very high cost, too, what has, as a product, the least
conceivable amount of manual labor in it,--a professional opinion, for
example; but we never buy physical strength merely, nor physical
strength at all, unless it is directed by some intellectual force. The
descending stream has power to drive machinery, and the arm of the idiot
has force for some mechanical service, but they equally lack the
directing mind. We are not so unwise as to purchase the power of the
stream, or the force of the idiot's arm; but we pay for its application
in the thing produced, and we often pay more for the skill that has
directed the power than for the power itself. The river that now moves
the machinery of a factory in which many scores of men and women find
their daily labor, and earn their daily bread, was employed a hundred
years ago in driving a single set of mill-stones; and thus a man and boy
were induced to divide their time lazily between the grist in the hopper
and the fish under the dam. The river's power has not changed; but the
inventive, creative genius of man has been applied to it, and new and
astonishing results are produced. With man himself this change has been
even greater. In proportion to the population of the country, we are
daily dispensing with manual labor, and yet we are daily increasing the
national production. There is more mind directing the machinery
propelled by the forces of nature, and more mind directing the machinery
of the human body. The result is, that a given product is furnished by
less outlay of physical force. Formerly, with the old spinning-wheel and
hand-loom, we put a great deal of bone and muscle into a yard of cloth;
now we put in very little. We have substituted mind for physical force,
and the question is, which is the more economical? Or, in other words,
is it of any consequence to the employer whether the laborer is ignorant
or intelligent?

Before we discuss this point abstractly, let us notice the conduct of
men. Is any one willing to give an ignorant farm laborer as much as he
is ready to pay for the services of an intelligent man? And if not, why
the distinction? And if an ignorant man is not the best man upon a farm,
is he likely to be so in a shop or mill? And if not, we see how the
proprietors of factories are interested in elevating the standard of
learning, in the mills and outside. But they are not singular in this.
All classes of employers are equally concerned in the education of the
laborer; for learning not only makes his labor more valuable to himself,
but the market price of the product is generally reduced, and the change
affects favorably all interests of society. This benefit is one of the
first in point of time, and the one, perhaps, most appreciable of all
which learning has conferred upon the laborer. As each laborer, with the
same expenditure of physical force, produces a greater result, of course
the aggregate products of the world are vastly increased, although they
represent only the same number of laborers that a less quantity would
have represented under an ignorant system.

The division of these products upon any principle conceivable leaves for
the laborer a larger quantity than he could have before commanded; for,
although the share of the wealthy may be disproportionate, their ability
to consume is limited; and, as poverty is the absence or want of things
necessary and convenient for the purposes of life, according to the
ideas at the time entertained, we see how a laboring population,
necessarily poor while ignorance prevails, is elevated to a position of
greater social and physical comfort, as mind takes the place of brute
force in the industries of the world. Learning, then, is not the result
of social comfort, but social comfort is the product of intelligence,
and increases or diminishes as intelligence is general or limited. It is
not, however, to be taken as granted that each laborer's position
corresponds or answers to the sum of his own knowledge. It might happen
that an ignorant laborer would enjoy the advantages of a general
culture, to which he contributed little or nothing; and it must of
necessity also happen that an intelligent laborer, in the midst of an
ignorant population, as in Ireland or India, for example, would be
compelled to accept, in the main, the condition of those around him. But
there is no evidence on the face of society now, or in its history, that
an ignorant population, whether a laboring population or not, has ever
escaped from a condition of poverty. And the converse of the proposition
is undoubtedly true, that an intelligent laboring community will soon
become a wealthy community. Learning is sure to produce wealth; wealth
is likely to contribute to learning, but it does not necessarily produce
it. Hence it follows that learning is the only means by which the poor
can escape from their poverty.

In this statement it is assumed that education does not promote vice;
and not only is this negative assumption true, but it is safe to assume,
further, that education favors virtue, and that any given population
will be less vicious when educated than when ignorant. This, I cannot
doubt, is a general truth, subject, of course, to some exceptions.

The educational struggle in which the English people are now engaged has
made distinct and tangible certain opinions and impressions that are
latent in many minds. There has been an attempt to show that vice has
increased in proportion to education. This attempt has failed, though
there may be found, of course, in all countries, single facts, or
classes of facts, that seem to sustain such an opinion.

Now, suppose this case,--and neither this case nor any similar one has
ever occurred in real life,--but suppose crime to increase as a people
were educated, though there should be no increase of population; would
this fact prove that learning made men worse? By no means. Our answer is
apparent on the face of the change itself. By education, the business,
and pecuniary relations and transactions of a people are almost
indefinitely multiplied; and temptations to crime, especially to crimes
against property, are multiplied in an equal ratio. Would person or
property be better respected in New York or Boston, if the most ignorant
population of the world could be substituted for the present
inhabitants of those cities? The business nerves of men are frequently
shocked by some unexpected defalcation, and short-sighted moralists, who
lack faith, exclaim, "All this is because men know so much!" Such
certainly forget that for every defaulter in a city there are hundreds
of honest men, who receive and render justly unto all, and hold without
check the fortunes of others. So Mr. Drummond argued in the British
House of Commons against a national system of education, because what he
was pleased to call _instruction_ had not saved William Palmer and John
Sadlier. But the truth in this matter is not at the bottom of a well; it
is upon the surface. Where it is the habit of society generally to be
ignorant, you will find it the necessity of that society to be poor; and
where ignorance and poverty both abound, the temptations to crime are
unquestionably few, but the power to resist temptation is as
unquestionably weak. The absence of crime is owing to the absence of
temptation, rather than to the presence of virtue. Such a condition of
society is as near to real virtue as the mental weakness of the idiot is
to true happiness.

Turning again to the discussion in the British Parliament of April,
1856, we are compelled to believe that some English statesmen are, in
principle and in their ideas of political economy, where a portion of
the English cotton-spinners were a hundred years ago. The
cotton-spinners thought the invention of labor-saving machinery would
deprive them of bread; and a Mr. Ball gravely argues that schools will
so occupy the attention of children, that the farmers' crops will be
neglected. I am inclined to give you his own words; and I have no doubt
you will be in a measure relieved of the dulness of this essay, when you
listen to what was actually cheered, in the British Commons. Speaking of
the resolutions in favor of a national system of instruction, Mr. Ball
said: "It was important to consider what would be their bearing on the
agricultural districts of the country. He had obtained a return from his
own farm, and, supposing the principles advocated by the noble lord were
adopted, the results would be perfectly fearful. The following was the
return he had obtained from his agent: William Chapman, ten years a
servant on his (Mr. Ball's) farm; his own wages thirteen shillings,
besides a house; he had seven children, who earned nine shillings a
week; making together twenty-two shillings a week. Robert Arbor, fifteen
years on the farm; wages thirteen shillings a week, and a house; six
children, who earned six shillings a week; making together nineteen
shillings. John Stevens, thirty-three years a servant on the farm; his
own wages fourteen shillings a week; he had brought up ten children,
whose average earnings had been twelve shillings weekly, making together
twenty-six shillings a week. Robert Carbon, twenty-two years a servant
on the farm; wages thirteen shillings a week; having ten children, who
earned ten shillings a week; making together twenty-three shillings a
week. Thus it appeared that in these four families the fathers earned
fifty-three shillings weekly, and the children thirty-seven shillings a
week; so that the children earned something more than two-thirds of the
amount of the earnings of the fathers. He would ask the house, if the
fathers were to be deprived of the earnings of the children, how could
they provide bread for them? It was perfectly impossible. They must
either increase the parent's wages to the amount of the loss he thus
sustained, or they must make it up to him from a rate. Then, again,
those who were at all conversant with agriculture knew that if they
deprived the farmer of the labor of children, agriculture could not be
carried on. There was no machinery by which they could get the weeds out
of the land."--_London Times_.

The light which this statement furnishes is not hid under a bushel. The
argument deserves a more logical form, and I proceed gratuitously to
give the author the benefit of a scientific arrangement. "If a national
system of education is adopted, the children of my tenants will be sent
to school; if the children of my tenants are sent to school, my turnips
will not be weeded; if my turnips are not weeded, I shall eat fat mutton
no more."

After this from a statesman, we need not wonder that a correspondent of
Lord John Russell writes, "That a farmer near him has been heard to say,
he would not give anything to a day-school; he finds that since
Sunday-schools have been established the birds have increased and eat
his corn, and because he cannot now procure the services of the boys,
whom he used to employ the whole of Sunday, in protecting his
fields."--_London Times, April 13th, 1856._

Now, I do not go to England for the purpose of making an attack upon her
opinions; but, as kindred ideas prevail among us, though to a limited
extent only, the folly of them may be seen in persons at a distance,
when it would not be realized by ourselves. Moreover, the presentation
of these somewhat ridiculous notions brings ridicule upon a whole class
of errors; and when errors are so ingrained that men cannot reason in
regard to them, ridicule is often the only weapon of successful attack.
And it is no compliment to an American audience for the speaker to say
that their own minds already suggest the refutation which these errors
demand. If the chief end of man, for which boyhood should be a
preparation, were to weed turnips or to frighten blackbirds from
corn-fields, then surely the objection of Mr. Ball, and the complaint
and spirit of resistance offered by Lord John Russell's farmer, would be
eminently proper. But Lord John Russell did not himself assent to the
view furnished by his correspondent. Mr. Ball's theory evidently is,
"Take good care of the turnips, and leave the culture of the boys and
girls to chance;" and Lord John Russell's wise farmer unquestionably
thinks that cereal peculations of blackbirds are more dangerous than the
robberies committed by neglected children, grown to men.

Mr. Clay, chaplain of Preston jail, says: "Thirty-six per cent. come
into jail unable to say the Lord's Prayer; and seventy-two per cent.
come in such a state of moral debasement that it is in vain to give them
instruction, or to teach them their duty, since they cannot understand
the meaning of the words used to them." Here we have, as cause and
effect, the philosophy of Mr. Ball, and the facts of Mr. Clay. And,
further, this philosophy is as bad in principle, when tried by the rules
of political economy, as when subjected to moral and Christian tests.

Mr. Ball says there is no machinery by which the farmers can get the
weeds out of the land. This may be true; and once there was no
machinery by which they could get the seed into the land, or the crops
from it. Once there was little or no inventive power among the
mechanics, or scientific knowledge, or even spirit of inquiry, among the
farmers. How have these changes been wrought? By education, surely, and
that moral and religious culture for which secular education is a fit
preparation. The contributions of learning to labor, in a pecuniary
aspect alone, have far exceeded the contributions of labor to learning.

It is impossible to enumerate the evidences in support of this
statement, but single facts will give us some conception of their
aggregated value and force.

It was stated by Mr. Flint, Secretary of the Massachusetts Board of
Agriculture, in his Annual Report for 1855, "That the saving to the
country, from the improvements in ploughs alone, within the last
twenty-five years, has been estimated at no less than ten millions of
dollars a year in the work of teams, and one million in the price of
ploughs, while the aggregate of the crops is supposed to have been
increased by many millions of bushels." From this fact, as the
representative of a great class of facts, we may safely draw two
conclusions. First, these improvements are the products of learning, the
contribution which learning makes to labor, far exceeding in amount any
tax which the cause of learning, in schools or out, imposes upon labor.
Secondly, we see that a given amount of adult labor upon a farm, with
the help of the improved implements of industry, will accomplish more in
1856, than the same amount of adult labor, with its attendant juvenile
force, could have accomplished in 1826. If we were fully to illustrate
and sustain the latter inference, we should be required to review the
improvements made in other implements of farming, as well as in ploughs.
Their positive pecuniary value, when considered in the aggregate, is too
vast for general belief; and in England alone it must exceed the
anticipated cost of a system of public instruction, say six millions of
pounds, or thirty millions of dollars, per year. But learning, as we
have defined it, has contributed less to farming than to other
departments of labor.

The very existence of manufactures presupposes the existence of
learning. There is no branch of manufactures without its appropriate
machine; and every machine is the product of mind, enlarged and
disciplined by some sort of culture. The steam engine, the
spinning-jenny, the loom, the cotton-gin, are notable instances of the
advantages derived by manufacturing industry from the prevalence of
learning. It was stated by Chief Justice Marshall, about thirty years
ago, that Whitney's cotton-gin had saved five hundred millions of
dollars to the country; and the saving, upon the same basis, cannot now
be less than one thousand millions of dollars,--a sum too great for the
human imagination to conceive. When we contemplate these achievements of
mind, by which manual labor has been diminished, and every physical
force both magnified and economized, how unstatesmanlike is the view
which regards a human being as a bundle of muscles and bones merely,
with no destiny but ignorance, servitude, and poverty!

Ancient commerce, if we omit to notice the conjecture that the mariner's
compass was in possession of the old Phoenician and Indian navigators,
reproduced, rather than invented, in modern times, did not rest upon any
enlarged scientific knowledge; but, in this era, many of the sciences
contribute to the extension and prosperity of trade. After what has been
accomplished by science, and especially by physical geography, for
commerce and navigation, we have reason to expect a system, based upon
scientific knowledge and principles, which shall render the highway of
nations secure against the disasters that have often befallen those who
go down to the sea in ships. Science gave to the world the steamship,
which promised for a time to engross the entire trade upon the ocean;
but science again appears, constructs vessels upon better scientific
principles, traces out the path of currents in the water and the air,
and thus restores the rival powers of wind and steam to an equality of
position in the eye of the merchant. Will any one say that all this
inures to capital, and leaves the laborer comparatively unrewarded? We
are accustomed to use the word prosperity as synonymous with
accumulation; and yet, in a true view, a man may be prosperous and
accumulate nothing. Suppose we contrast two periods in the life of a
nation with each other. Since the commencement of this century, the
wages of a common farm laborer in America have increased seventy-five or
one hundred per cent., while the articles necessary and convenient for
his use have, upon the whole, diminished in price. Admit that there was
nothing for accumulation in the first period, and that there is nothing
for accumulation now,--is not his condition nevertheless improved? And,
if so, has he not participated in the general prosperity?

Indeed, we may all accept the truth, that there is no exclusiveness in
the benefits which learning confers; and this leads me to say, next,
that there ought to be no exclusiveness in the enjoyment of educational
privileges.

In America we agree to this; and yet, confessedly, as a practical result
we have not generally attained the end proposed. There are two practical
difficulties in the way. First, our aim in a system of public
instruction is not high enough; and, secondly, we do not sufficiently
realize the importance of educating each individual. Our aim is not high
enough; and the result, like every other result, is measured and limited
by the purpose we have in view. Our public schools ought to be so good
that private schools for instruction in the ordinary branches would
disappear. Mr. Everett said, in reply to inquiries made by Mr.
Twistleton, "I send my boy to the public school, because I know of none
better." It should be the aim of the public to make their schools so
good that no citizen, in the education of his children, will pass them
by.

It is as great a privilege for the wealthy as for the poor to have an
opportunity to send their children to good public schools. It is a maxim
in education that the teacher must first comprehend the pupil mentally
and morally; and might not many of the errors of individual and public
life be avoided, if the citizen, from the first, were to have an
accurate idea of the world in which he is to live? The demand of labor
upon education, as they are connected with every material interest of
society, is, that no one shall be neglected. The mind of a nation is
its capital. We are accustomed to speak of money as capital; and
sometimes we enlarge the definition, and include machinery, tools,
flocks, herds, and lands. But for this moment let us do what we have a
right to do,--go behind the definitions of lexicographers and political
economists, and say, "_capital_ is the producing force of society, and
that force is mind." Without this force, money is nothing; machinery is
nothing; flocks, herds, lands, are nothing. But all these are made
valuable and efficient by the power of mind. What we call
civilization,--passing from an inferior to a superior condition of
existence,--is a mental and moral process. If mind is the capital,--the
producing force of society,--what shall we say of the person or
community that neglects its improvement? Certainly, all that we should
say of the miser, and all that was said of the timid servant who buried
his talent in the earth. If one mind is neglected, then we fail as a
generation, a state, a nation, as members of the human family, to answer
the highest purposes of existence. Some possible good is unaccomplished,
some desirable labor is unperformed, some means of progress is
neglected, some evil seed, it may be, is sown, for which this generation
must answer to all the successions of men. But let us not yield to the
prejudice, though sanctioned by custom, that learning unfits men for
the labors of life. The _schools_ may sometimes do this, but _learning_
never. We cannot, however, conceal from our view the fact that this
prejudice is a great obstacle to progress, even in New England; an
obstacle which may not be overcome without delay and conflict, in many
states of this Union; and especially in Great Britain is it an obstacle
in the way of those who demand a system of universal education.

In the House of Commons, Mr. Drummond opposes a national system of
education in this wise: "And, pray, what do you propose to rear your
youth for? Are you going to train them for statesmen? No. (A laugh.) The
honorable gentleman laughs at the notion, and so would I. But you are
going to fit them to be--what? Why, cotton-spinners and pin-makers, or,
if you like, blacksmiths, mere day laborers. These are the men whom you
are to teach foreign languages, mathematics, and the notation of music.
(Hear, hear.) Was there ever anything more absurd? It really seems as if
God had withdrawn common sense from this house." Now, what does this
language of Mr. Drummond mean? Does he not intend to say that it is
unwise to educate that class of society from which cotton-spinners,
pin-makers, blacksmiths, mere day laborers, are taken? Is it not his
opinion that the business of pin-making is to be perpetuated in some
families and classes, and the business of statesmanship is to be
perpetuated in others? And, if so, does he not believe that the best
condition of society is that which presents divisions based upon the
factitious distinctions of birth and fortune? Most certainly these
questions indicate his opinions, as they indicate the opinions of those
who cheered him, and as they also indicate the opinions of a few in this
country, who, through ignorance, false education, prejudice, or sympathy
with castes and races, fear to educate the laborer, lest he may forsake
his calling. With us these fears are infrequent, but they ought not to
exist at all. The question in a public sense is not, "From what family
or class shall the pin-maker or the statesman be taken?" There is no
question at all to be answered. Educate the whole people. Education will
develop every variety of talent, taste, and power. These qualities,
under the guidance of the necessities of life and the public judgment,
will direct each man to his proper place. If the son of a cotton-spinner
become a statesman, it is because statesmanship needs him, and he has
some power answering to its wants. And if Mr. Drummond's son become a
cotton-spinner, it is because that is his right place, and the world
will be the better and the richer that Mr. Drummond's son is a
cotton-spinner, and that he is a learned man too; but, if Mr. Drummond's
son occupy the place of a statesman because he is Mr. Drummond's son,
though he be no statesman at all himself, then the world is all the
worse for the mistake, and poor compensation is it that Mr. Drummond's
son is a learned man in something that he is never called to put in
practice.

When it is said that the statesmen, or those engaged in the business of
government, shall come from one-tenth of the population, is not the
state, according to the doctrine of chances, deprived of nine-tenths of
its governing force? And may not the same suggestion be made of every
other branch of business?

But I pass now to the last leading thought, and soon to the conclusion
of my address. The great contribution of learning to the laborer is its
power, under the lead of Christianity, to break down the unnatural
distinctions of society, and to render labor of every sort, among all
classes, acceptable and honorable. Ignorance is the degradation of
labor, and when laborers, as a class, are ignorant, their vocation is
necessarily shunned by some; and, being shunned by some, it is likely to
be despised by others. Wherever the laboring population is in a
condition of positive, or, by a broad distinction, of comparative
ignorance, society will always divide itself into two, and oftentimes
into three classes. We shall find the dominant class, the servient
class, and then, generally, the despised class; the dominant class,
comparatively intelligent, possessing the property, administering the
government, giving to social life its laws, and enjoying the fruits of
labor which they do not perform; the servient class, unwittingly in a
state of slavery, whether nominally bond or free, having little besides
physical force to promote their own comfort or to contribute to the
general prosperity, and furnishing security in their degradation for a
final submission to whatever may be required of them; and last, a
despised class, too poor to live without labor, and too proud to live by
labor, assuming a position not accorded to them, and finally yielding to
a social and political ostracism even more degrading, to a sensitive
mind, than the servient condition they with so much effort seek to shun.

All this is the fruit of ignorance; all this may be removed by general
learning. If all men are learned, the work of the world will be
performed by learned men; and why, under such circumstances, should not
every vocation that is honest be equally honorable? But if this, in a
broad view, seem utopian, can we not agree that learning is the only
means by which a poor man can escape from his poverty? And, if it
furnish certain means of escape for one man, will it not furnish equally
certain means of escape for many? And if so, is not learning a general
remedy for the inequalities among men?




EDUCATION AND CRIME.

[Extract from the Twenty-First Annual Report of the Secretary of the
Massachusetts Board of Education.]


The public schools, in their relations to the morals of the pupils and
to the morality of the community, are attracting a large share of
attention. In some sections of the country the system is boldly
denounced on account of its immoral tendencies. In states where free
schools exist there are persons who doubt their utility; and
occasionally partisan or religious leaders appear who deny the existence
of any public duty in regard to education, or who assert and maintain
the doctrine that free schools are a common danger. As the people of
this commonwealth are not followers of these prophets of evil, nor
believers in their predictions, there is but slight reason for
discussion among us. It is not probable that a large number of the
citizens of Massachusetts entertain doubts of the power and value of our
institutions of learning, of every grade, to resist evil and promote
virtue, through the influence they exert. But, as there is nothing in
our free-school system that shrinks from light, or investigation even,
I have selected from the annual reports everything which they contain
touching the morality of the institution. In so doing, I have had two
objects in view. First, to direct attention to the errors and wrongs
that exist; and, secondly, to state the opinion, and enforce it as I may
be able, that the admitted evils found in the schools are the evils of
domestic, social, municipal, and general life, which are sometimes
chastened, mitigated, or removed, but never produced, nor even
cherished, by our system of public instruction. In the extracts from the
school committees' reports there are passages which imply some doubt of
the moral value of the system; but it is our duty to bear in mind that
these reports were prepared and presented for the praiseworthy purpose
of arousing an interest in the removal of the evils that are pointed
out. The writers are contemplating the importance of making the schools
a better means of moral and intellectual culture; but there is no reason
to suppose that in any case a comparison is instituted, even mentally,
between the state of society as it appears at present and the condition
that would follow the abandonment of our system of public instruction.
There are general complaints that the manners of children and youth have
changed within thirty or fifty years; that age and station do not
command the respect which was formerly manifested, and that some
license in morals has followed this license in manners.

The change in manners cannot be denied; but the alleged change in morals
is not sustained by a great amount of positive evidence. The customs of
former generations were such that children often manifested in their
exterior deportment a deference which they did not feel, while at
present there may be more real respect for station, and deference for
age and virtue, than are exhibited in juvenile life. In this
explanation, if it be true, there is matter for serious thought; but I
should not deem it wise to encourage a mere outward show of the social
virtues, which have no springs of life in the affections.

And, notwithstanding the tone of the reports to which I have called
attention, and notwithstanding my firm conviction that many moral
defects are found in the schools, I am yet confident that their moral
progress is appreciable and considerable.

In the first place, teachers, as a class, have a higher idea of their
professional duties, in respect to moral and intellectual culture. Many
of them are permanently established in their schools. They are persons
of character in society, with positions to maintain, and they are
controlled by a strong sense of professional responsibility to parents
and to the public. It has been, to some extent, the purpose and result
of Teachers' Associations, Teachers' Institutes, and Normal Schools, to
create in the body of teachers a better opinion concerning their moral
obligations in the work of education. It must also be admitted that the
changes in school government have been favorable to learning and virtue.
For, while it is not assumed that all schools are, or can be, controlled
by moral means only, it is incontrovertible that a government of mild
measures is superior to one of force. This superiority is as apparent in
morals as in scholarly acquisitions. It is rare that a teacher now
boasts of his success over his pupils in physical contests; but such
claims were common a quarter of a century ago. The change that has been
wrought is chiefly moral, and in its influence we find demonstrative
evidence of the moral superiority of the schools of the present over
those of any previous period of this century. Before we can comprehend
the moral work which the schools have done and are doing, we must
perceive and appreciate with some degree of truthfulness the changes
that have occurred in general life within a brief period of time. The
activity of business, by which fathers have been diverted from the
custody and training of their children; the claims of fashion and
society, which have led to some neglect of family government on the
part of mothers; the aggregation of large, populations in cities and
towns, always unfavorable to the physical and moral welfare of children;
the comparative neglect of agriculture, and the consequent loss of moral
strength in the people, are all facts to be considered when we estimate
the power of the public school to resist evil and to promote good. If,
in addition to these unfavorable facts and tendencies, our educational
system is prejudicial to good morals, we may well inquire for the human
agency powerful enough to resist the downward course of New England and
American civilization. To be sure, Christianity remains; but it must, to
some extent, use human institutions as means of good; and the assertion
that the schools are immoral is equivalent to a declaration that our
divine religion is practically excluded from them. This declaration is
not in any just sense true. The duty of daily devotional exercises is
always inculcated upon teachers, and the leading truths and virtues of
Christianity are made, as far as possible, the daily guides of teachers
and pupils. The tenets of particular sects are not taught; but the great
truths of Christianity, which are received by Christians generally, are
accepted and taught by a large majority of committees and teachers. It
is not claimed that the public schools are religious institutions; but
they recognize and inculcate those fundamental truths which are the
basis of individual character, and the best support of social,
religious, and political life. The statement that the public schools are
demoralizing must be true, if true at all, for one of three reasons.
Either because all education is demoralizing; or, secondly, because the
particular education given in the public schools is so; or, thirdly,
because the public-school system is corrupting, and consequently taints
all the streams of knowledge that flow through or emanate from it. For,
if the public system is unobjectionable as a system, and education is
not in itself demoralizing, then, of course, no ground remains for the
charge that I am now considering.


I. _Is all education demoralizing?_ An affirmative answer to this
question implies so much that no rational man can accept it. It is
equivalent to the assertion that barbarism is a better condition than
civilization, and that the progress of modern times has proceeded upon a
misconception of the true ideal perfection of the human race. As no one
can be found who will admit that his happiness has been marred, his
powers limited, or his life degraded, by education, so there is no
process of logic that can commend to the human understanding the
doctrine that bodies of men are either less happy or virtuous for the
culture of the intellect. I am not aware of any human experience that
conflicts with this view; for individual cases of criminals who have
been well educated prove nothing in themselves, but are to be considered
as facts in great classes of facts which indicate the principles and
conduct of bodies of men who are subject to similar influences. In fact,
the statistics to which I have had access tend to show that crime
diminishes as intelligence increases. On this point the experience of
Great Britain is probably more definite, and, of course, more valuable,
than our own. The Aberdeen Feeding Schools were established in 1841, and
during the ten years succeeding the commitments to the jails of children
under twelve years of age were as follows:[1]


     In 1842,   30   In 1847,   27

        1843,   63      1848,   19

        1844,   41      1849,   16

        1845,   49      1850,   22

        1846,   28      1851,    8
               ___             ___
               211              92


In the work of Mr. Hill it is also stated that "the number of children
under twelve committed for crime to the Aberdeen prisons, during the
last six years, was as follows:


                 Males.    Females.    Total.

     1849-50,     11         5          16

     1850-51,     14         8          22

     1851-52,      6         2           8

     1852-53,     23         1          24

     1853-54,     24         1          25

     1854-55,     47         2          49


"It will be observed that in the last three years there has been a great
increase of boy crime, contemporaneously with an almost total absence of
girl crime, though formerly the amount of the latter was considerable.
Now, since this extraordinary difference coïncides in point of time with
the fact of full girls' schools and half empty boys' schools, the
inference can hardly be avoided that the two facts bear the relation of
cause and effect, and that, so far from the late increase of youthful
crime in Aberdeen any-wise impairing the soundness of the principle on
which the schools are based, it is its strongest confirmation. In moral
as in physical science, when the objections to a theory are, upon
further investigation, explained by the theory itself, they become the
best evidence of its truth. Indeed, it is proved, by the experience, not
only of Aberdeen, but, as far as I have been able to ascertain, of every
town in Scotland in which industrial schools have been established,
that the number of children in the schools and the number in the jail
are like the two ends of a scale-beam; as the one rises the other falls,
and _vice versa_.

"The following list of imprisonments of children attending the schools
of the Bristol Ragged School Union shows considerable progress in the
right direction:


____________________________________________________________________
             |1847.|1848.|1849.|1850.|1851.|1852.|1853.|1854.|1855.|
_____________|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|
 Imprisoned, | 12  | 19  | 26  |  9  |  1  |  1  |  -  |  1  |  -  |
_____________|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|_____|

Imprisonments in    } 66, averaging 16.5 per year on number of 417
the first four years}   children.

In subsequent five  } 3, averaging 0.6 per year on number of 728
years,              }    children.
                   ____
      Difference,  15.9

        16.5 : 15.9 :: 100 : 96.36.


"Thus," says Mr. Thornton, "it appears that the diminution of the
average annual number of children attending our schools imprisoned in
the latter period of five years, as compared with the annual average of
the previous four years, is ninety-six per cent.--a striking fact, which
is, I think, a manifest proof of the benefit conferred on them by the
religious and secular instruction they receive in our schools, or, at
the very least, of the advantages of rescuing them from the temptations
of idleness, and from evil companionship and example."

I also copy, from the work already referred to, an extract from a paper
on the Reformatory Institutions in and near Bristol, by Mary Carpenter:
"In numberless instances children may be seen growing up decently, who
owe their only training and instruction to the school. Young persons are
noticed in regular work, who, before they attended the Ragged Schools,
were vagrants, or even thieves. Not unfrequently a visit is paid at the
school by a respectable young man, who proves to have been a wild and
troublesome scholar of former times."

Mr. Hill, Recorder of Birmingham, in a charge to the grand jury, made in
1839, speaking of the means of repressing crime, says: "It is to
education, in the large and true meaning of the word, that we must all
look as the means of striking at the root of the evil. Indeed, of the
close connection between ignorance and crime the calendar which I hold
in my hand furnishes a striking example. Each prisoner has been examined
as to the state of his education, and the result is set down opposite
his name. It appears, then, that of forty-three prisoners only one can
read and write well. The majority can neither read nor write at all; and
the remainder, with the solitary exception which I have noted down, are
said to read and write imperfectly; which necessarily implies that they
have not the power of using those great elements of knowledge for any
practical object. Of forty-three prisoners, forty-two, then, are
destitute of instruction."

These authorities are not cited because they refer to schools that
answer in character to the public schools of Massachusetts, for the
latter are far superior in the quality of their pupils, and in the
opportunities given for intellectual and moral education; but these
cases and opinions are presented for the purpose of showing what has
been done for the improvement of children and the repression of crime
under the most unfavorable circumstances that exist in a civilized
community. If such benign results have followed the establishment of
schools of an inferior character, is it unreasonable to claim that
education and the processes of education, however imperfect they may be,
are calculated to increase the sum of human progress, virtue, and
happiness?


II. _Is the particular education given in the public schools unfavorable
to the morals of the pupils, and, consequently, to the morality of the
community?_ I have already presented a view of the moral and religious
education given in the schools, and it only remains to consider the
culture that is in its leading features intellectual. It may be said,
speaking generally, that education is a training and development of the
faculties, so as to make them harmonize in power, and in their relations
to each other. Among other things, the ability to read is acquired in
the public schools. In the individual, this is a power for good. It
opens to the mind and heart the teachings of the sacred Scriptures; it
secures the companionship of the great, the wise, and the good, of every
age; and it is a possession that, in all cases, must be the foundation
of those scientific acquisitions, intellectual, moral, and natural,
which show the beneficence and power of the Creator, and indicate the
fact and the law of human responsibility. The natural and general effect
of the sciences taught in the schools is an illustration of the last
statement. Moreover, the mere presence of a child, though he took no
part in the studies of the school, is to him a moral lesson. He feels
the force of government, he acquires the habit of obedience, and, in
time, he comprehends the reason of the rules that are established. This
discipline is essentially moral, and furnishes some basis, though
partial and unsatisfactory, for the proper discharge of the duties of
life. But it is to be remembered that the power of the school is but in
its beginning when the presence of a pupil is recognized. The constancy
and punctuality of attendance required by all judicious parents and
faithful teachers are important moral lessons, whose influence can never
be destroyed. The fixedness of purpose that is required, and is
essential in school, remains as though it were a part of the nature of
the child and the man. School-life strengthens habits of industry when
they exist, and creates them when they do not. It is, indeed, the only
means, of universal application, that is competent to train children in
habits of industry. Private schools can never furnish this training; for
large numbers of children, by the force of circumstances, are deprived
of the tuition of such schools. Business life cannot furnish this
training; for the habits of the child are usually moulded, if not
hardened, before he arrives at an age when he can be constantly employed
in any industrial vocation. The public school is no doubt justly
chargeable with neglects and omissions; but its power for good, measured
by the character of the education now furnished, is certainly very
great. It inculcates habits of regularity, punctuality, constancy, and
industry, in the pursuits of business; through literature and the
sciences in their elements, and, under some circumstances, by an
advanced course of study, it leads the pupil towards the fountain of
life and wisdom; and, by the moral and religious instruction daily
given, some preparation is made for the duties of life and the
temptations of the world.


III. _Is the public school system, as a system, in itself necessarily
corrupting?_ As preliminary to the answer to be given to this question,
it is well to consider what the public-school system is.

1. Every inhabitant is required to contribute to its support.

2. It contemplates the education of every child, regardless of any
distinction of society or nature.

3. The system is subject in many respects to the popular will; and
ultimately its existence and character are dependent upon the public
judgment.

4. In the Massachusetts schools, the daily reading of the Scriptures is
required.

The consideration of these topics will conclude my remarks upon the
general subject of the moral influence of the American system of public
instruction. In New England it is very unusual to hear the right of the
state to provide for the support of schools by general taxation called
in question; but I am satisfied, from private conversations, and from
occasional public statements, that there are leading minds in some
sections of the country that are yet unconvinced of the moral soundness
of the basis on which a system of public instruction necessarily rests.
Taxation is simply an exercise of the right of the whole to take the
property of an individual; and this right can be exercised justly in
those cases only where the application of the property so taken is,
morally speaking, to a public use. The judgment of the public determines
the legality of the proceeding; but it is possible that in some cases a
public judgment might be secured which could not be supported by a
process of moral reasoning. On what moral grounds, then, does the right
of taxation for educational objects rest? I answer, first, education
diminishes crime. The evidence in support of this statement has already
been presented. It is a manifest individual duty to make sacrifices for
this object; and, as every crime is an injury, not only to him who is
the subject of it, but to every member of society, the prevention of
crime becomes a public as well as an individual duty.

The conviction of a criminal is a public duty; and, under all
governments of law, it is undertaken at the public charge. Offences are
not individual merely; they are against society also, inasmuch as it is
the right of society that all its members shall behave themselves well.
And, if it is the right of society that its members shall behave
themselves well, is it not the duty of society to so provide for their
education that each individual part may meet the demand which the whole
body asserts? And, further, as a majority of persons cannot individually
provide for their own protection, it is the duty of society, or the
state, or the government, to furnish the needed protection in the most
economical and effective manner possible. The state has no moral right
to jeopard property, life, and reputation, when, by a different policy,
all these might be secure; nor has the state a moral right to make the
security furnished, whether perfect or not, unnecessarily expensive. It
is the dictate of reason and the experience of governments that the most
effectual method of repressing crime is to diminish the number of
criminals; and, though punitive measures may accomplish something, our
chief reliance must be upon the education and training of children and
youth. The facts drawn from the experience of England and Scotland,
which have been quoted, lead to the conclusion that schools diminish the
number of criminals, and consequently lessen the amount of crime; but I
think it proper to add some extracts from a communication made, in
August, 1856, by Mr. Dunne, chief constable of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, to
the Secretary of the National Reformatory Union.[2]

"I know, from my own personal knowledge and observation, that, since
parental responsibility has been enforced in the district, under the
direction of the Secretary of State, the number of juvenile criminals in
the custody of the police has decreased one-half. I know that many of
the parents, who were in the habit of sending their children into the
streets for the purposes of stealing, begging, and plunder, have quite
discontinued that practice, and several of the children so used, and
brought up as thieves and mendicants, are now at some of the free
schools of the town; others are at work, and thereby obtain an honest
livelihood; and, so far as I can ascertain, they seem to be thoroughly
altered, and appear likely to become good and honest members of society.
I have, for my own information, conversed with some of the boys so
altered, and, during the conversation I had with them, they declared
that they derived the greatest happiness and satisfaction from their
change in life. I don't at all doubt the truth of these statements, for
their evident improvement and individual circumstances fully bear them
out; and I believe them to be really serious in all they say, and truly
anxious to become honest and respectable. I attribute, in a great
measure, this salutary change to the effects arising in many respects
from the establishment of reformatory schools; but I have more
particularly found that greater advantages have emanated from those
institutions since the parents of the children confined in them have
been made to pay contributions to their maintenance; for it appears
beyond doubt that the effect of the latter has been to induce the
parents of other young criminals to withdraw them from the streets, and,
instead of using them for the purposes of crime, they seem to take an
interest in their welfare. And I know that many of them are now really
anxious to get such employment for their children as will enable them to
obtain a livelihood; and it is my opinion that the example thus set to
older and more desperate criminals, belonging in many instances to the
same family as the juvenile thief, has had the effect of reforming them
also; for many of them have left off their course of crime, and are now
living by honest labor. The result is that serious crime has
considerably decreased in this district, so much so that there were only
six cases for trial at the assizes, whereas, at the previous assizes,
the average number of cases was from twenty-five to thirty, which fact
was made the subject of much comment and congratulation by Mr. Justice
Willes, the presiding judge."

These remarks relate chiefly to the reformatory schools, but we know
that the prevention of crime by education is much easier than its
reformation by the same means. Indeed, it is the result of the
experience of Massachusetts that the necessity for reform schools has in
a large degree arisen from neglect of the public schools. It is stated
in the Tenth Annual Report of the Chaplain of the State Reform School
that of nineteen hundred and nine boys admitted since the establishment
of the institution, thirteen hundred and thirty-four are known to have
been truants. It is also quite probable that the number reported as
truants is really less than the facts warrant. It may not be out of
place to suggest, in this connection, that when a boy sentenced to the
Reform School is known to have been guilty of truancy, if the parents
were subjected to some additional burdens on that account, the cause of
education would be promoted, and the number of criminals in the
community would be diminished. From the views and facts presented, as
well as from the daily observation and experience of men, I assume that
ignorance is the ally of crime, and that education is favorable to
virtue. It is also the result of experience and the dictate of reason
that general taxation is the only means by which universal education can
be secured. All other plans and theories will prove partial in their
application. If, then, it is the duty of the state to protect itself
against crime, and of course to diminish the number of criminals; if
education is the most efficient means for securing these results; if
this education must be universal in order to be thoroughly effective; if
the state is the only agent or instrumentality of sufficient power to
establish schools and furnish education for all; and if general taxation
is the only means which the state itself can command, is not every
inhabitant justly required and morally bound to contribute to the
support of a system of public instruction?

It will not necessarily happen that public schools will furnish to every
child and youth the desired amount of education. Professional schools,
classical schools, and academies of various grades, will be continued;
but there is an amount of intellectual and moral training needed by
every child which can be best given in the public school. This training
in the public schools ought to be carried much further than it usually
is. In the city of Newburyport, as I have been informed, there are no
exceptions to the custom of educating all the children of the town in
the public schools up to the moment when young men enter college. In
large towns and cities there is no excuse for the existence of private
schools to do the work now done in such schools as those of Newburyport
and other places where equal educational privileges exist.

The chief objection brought against the public school, touching its
morality, is derived from the fact that children who are subject to
proper moral influences at home are brought in contact with others who
are already practised in juvenile vices, if they have not been guilty of
petty crimes. I am happy to believe that this statement is not true of
many New England communities. The objection was considered in the last
Annual Report,--it has been often considered elsewhere; and I do not
propose to repeat at length the views which are entertained by the
friends of public education.

I have, however, to suggest that while this objection applies with some
force to the public school, it applies also to every other school, and
that the evil is the least dangerous when the pupil is intrusted to the
care of a qualified teacher, who is personally responsible to the public
for his conduct, and when the child is also subject to the restraints,
and influenced by the daily example and teachings, of the parents.

Moreover, it is to be remembered that the great value of education, in a
moral aspect, is the development of the power to resist temptation. This
power is not the growth of seclusion; and while neither the teacher nor
the parent ought wantonly to expose the child to vicious influences, the
school may be even a better preparation for the world from the fact that
temptation has there been met, resisted, and overcome. It is also to be
remembered that the judgment of parents in a matter so difficult and
delicate as a comparison between their own children and other children
would not always prove trustworthy nor just; and that a judgment of
parties not interested would prove eminently fruitful of dissatisfaction
and bitterness.

If all are to be educated, it only remains, then, that they be educated
together, subject to the general rule of society, that when a member is
dangerous to the safety or peace of his associates, he is to be excluded
or restrained. Nor is this necessity of association destitute of moral
advantages. If the comparatively good were separated from the relatively
vicious, it is not improbable that the latter would soon fall into a
state of barbarity. It seems to be the law of the school and of the
world that the most rapid progress is made when the weight of public
sentiment is on the side of improvement and virtue. It is not necessary
for me to remark that such a public sentiment exists in every town and
school district of the state; but who would take the responsibility in
any of these communities, great or small, of separating the virtuous
classes from the dangerous classes? Parents, from the force of their
affections, are manifestly incompetent to do this; and those who are not
parents are probably equally incompetent. But, if it were honestly
accomplished, who would be responsible for the crushing effects of the
measure upon those who were thus excluded from the presence and
companionship of the comparatively virtuous? These, often the victims of
vicious homes, need more than others the influence and example of the
good; and it should be among the chief satisfactions of those who are
able to train their own children in the ways of virtue, that thereby a
healthful influence is exerted upon the less fortunate of their race.
There is also in this course a wise selfishness; for, although
_children_ may be separated from each other, the circumstances of
maturer years will often make the virtuous subject to the influence of
the vicious. The safety of society, considered individually or
collectively, is not in the virtuous training of any part, however large
the proportion, but in the virtuous training of all. I cannot deem it
wise policy, whether parental or public, that takes the child from the
school on account of the immoral associations that are ordinarily found
there, or, on the other hand, that drives the vicious or unfortunate
from the presence of those who are comparatively pure. When it is
considered that the school is often the only refuge of the unhappy
subject of orphanage, or the victim of evil family influences, it seems
an unnecessary cruelty to withhold the protection, encouragement, and
support, which may be so easily and profitably furnished. It is said
that a sparrow pursued by a hawk took refuge in the bosom of a member of
the sovereign assembly of Athens, and that the harsh Areopagite threw
the trembling bird from him with such violence that it was killed on the
spot. The assembly was filled with indignation at the cruelty of the
deed; the author of it was arraigned as an alien to that sentiment of
mercy so necessary to the administration of justice, and by the
unanimous suffrages of his colleagues was degraded from the senatorial
dignity which he had so much dishonored.

It does not seem necessary to offer an argument in support of the
position that the public school is not unfavorably affected, morally, by
the fact that it is subject to the popular judgment. This judgment can
be rendered only at stated times, and under the forms and solemnities of
law. The history of public schools would probably furnish but few
instances of wrong in this respect. The people are usually sensitive in
regard to the moral character of teachers; they contribute liberally for
the support of the schools, are anxious for their improvement, and there
is no safer depositary of a trust that is essential to a nation in which
is the hope of freedom and free institutions.

And, last, a school cannot be truly said to be destitute of moral
character and influence in which the sacred Scriptures are daily read.

The observance of this requirement is a recognition of the existence of
the Supreme Being, of the Bible as containing a record of his will
concerning men, and of the common duty of rational creatures to live in
obedience to the obligations of morality and religion.

It has been no part of my purpose, in this discussion of the public
school as an institution fitted to promote morality, to deny the
existence of serious defects, or to screen them from the eyes of men.
The public school needs a more thorough discipline, a purer morality, a
clearer conception and a more practical recognition of the truths of
Christianity. But, viewed as a human institution, it claims the general
gratitude for the good it has already accomplished. The public school
was established in Massachusetts that "learning might not be buried in
the graves of our forefathers, in church and commonwealth;" and, in some
measure, at least, the early expectation thus quaintly expressed has
been realized. Learning has ever been cherished and honored among us.
The means of education have been the possession of all; and the
enjoyment of these means, often inadequate and humble, has developed a
taste for learning, which has been gratified in higher institutions;
and thus continually have the resources of the state been magnified, and
its influence in the land has been efficient in all that concerns the
welfare of the human race on the American continent.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Repression of Crime. By M. D. Hill.

[2] The Repression of Crime, pp. 358, 359.




REFORMATION OF CHILDREN.

[Address at the Inauguration of WILLIAM E. STARR, Superintendent of the
State Reform School at Westborough.]


Neither the invitation of the Trustees nor my own convenience will
permit a detailed examination of the topics which the occasion suggests;
and it is my purpose to address myself to those who are assembled to
participate in the exercises of the day, trusting to familiar and
unobserved visits for other and better opportunities for conference with
the inmates of the institution.

As the mariner, though cheered by genial winds and canopied by cloudless
skies, tests and marks his position and course by repeated observations,
so we now desire to note the progress of this humanity-freighted vessel
in its voyage over an uncertain sea, yet, as we trust, toward lands of
perpetual security and peace. All are voyagers on the sea of life. Some,
with the knowledge of ancient days only, grope their way by headlands,
or trust themselves occasionally to the guidance of the sun or the
stars; while others, with the chart and compass of the Christian era,
move confidently on their course, attracted by the Source and Centre of
all good. And it is a blessing of this state of existence, though it may
sometimes seem to be a curse, that the choice between good and evil yet
remains. The wisdom of a right choice is here manifested in the
benevolence of this foundation.

The State Reform School for Boys has now enjoyed eight full years of
life and progress; and, though we cannot estimate nor measure the good
it may have induced, or the evil it may have prevented, yet enough of
its history and results is known to justify the course of its patrons,
both public and private, and to warrant the ultimate realization of
their early cherished hopes. The state is most honored in the honor
awarded to its sons; and the name of LYMAN, now and evermore associated
with a work of benevolence and reform, will always command the
admiration of the citizens of the commonwealth, and stimulate the youth
of the school to acquire and practise those virtues which their generous
patron cherished in his own life and honored in others. Governor
Washburn, in the Dedication Address, said, "We commend this school, with
its officers and inmates, to a generous and grateful public, with the
trust that the future lives of the young, who may be sent hither for
correction and reform, may prove the crowning glory of an enterprise so
auspiciously begun." Since these words were uttered, and this hope, the
hope of many hearts, was expressed, nearly two thousand boys, charged
with various offences,--many of them petty, and others serious or even
criminal,--have been admitted to the school; and the chaplain, in his
report for the year 1854, says that "the institution will be
instrumental in saving a majority of those who come under its fostering
care." This opinion, based, no doubt, upon the experience which the
chaplain and other officers of the institution had had, is to be taken
as possessing a substantial basis of truth; and it at once suggests
important reflections.

Massachusetts is relieved of the presence of a thousand criminal, or, at
best, viciously disposed persons. A thousand active, capable,
industrious, productive, full-grown men have been created; or, rather, a
thousand consumers of the wealth of others, enemies of the public order
and peace, have been transformed into intelligent supporters of social
life, into generous, faithful guardians of public virtue and
tranquillity. Nor would the influences of this degraded population, if
unreformed, have ceased with its own existence; every succeeding
generation must have gathered somewhat of a harvest of crime and woe. A
thousand boys, hardened by neglect, educated in vice, and shunned by
the virtuous, would, as men, have been efficient missionaries of
lawlessness, wrong, and crime. And who shall estimate how much their
reform adds, in its results, to the wealth, the intellectual, moral, and
religious character, of the state? The criminal class is never a
producing class; and the labor of a thousand men here reclaimed, if
estimated for the period of twenty years only, is equal to the labor of
twenty thousand men for one year, which, at a hundred dollars each,
yields two millions of dollars. The pecuniary advantages of this school,
as of all schools, we may estimate; but there are better and higher
considerations, in the elevated intellectual, moral, and religious life
of the state, that are too pure, too ethereal, to be weighed in the
balance against the grosser possessions and acquisitions of society. We
thus get glimpses of the prophetic wisdom which led Mr. Lyman to say, "I
do not look on this school as an experiment; on the contrary, it strikes
me that it is an institution which will produce decidedly beneficial
results, not only for the present day, but for many years to come. I do
not, therefore, think that it should, even now, be treated in any
respect in the light of an experiment, to be abandoned if not
successful; for, if the school is introduced to public notice on no
better footing and with no more preparation than usually attend
trial-schemes of most kinds, the probability is that it will fail,
considering the peculiar difficulties of the case." Here is a high order
of faith in its application to human affairs; but Mr. Lyman saw, also,
that the work to be performed must encounter obstacles, and that its
progress toward a perfect result would be slow.

These obstacles have been encountered; and yet the progress has been
more rapid than the words of our founder imply. But are we not at
liberty to forget the trials, crosses, and perplexities, of this
movement, as we behold the fruits, already maturing, of the wisdom and
Christian benevolence of our honored commonwealth?

We are assembled to review the past, and to gather from it strength and
courage for the future; and we may with propriety congratulate all,
whether present or absent, who have been charged with the administration
of this school, and have contributed their share, however humble, to
promote these benign results. And we ought, also, to remember those,
whether living or dead, whose faith and labors laid the foundation on
which the state has built. Of the dead, I mention Lyman, Lamb, Denny,
Woodward, Shaw, and Greenleaf,--all of whom, with money, counsel, or
personal service, contributed to the plan, progress, and completion, of
the work.

The good that they have done is not interred with their bones; and their
example will yet find many imitators, as men more generally and more
perfectly realize the importance of faith in childhood and youth, as the
element of a true faith in our race. If this enterprise, in the judgment
of its founder, was not an experiment ten years ago, it cannot be so
regarded now; yet the public will look with anxiety, though with hope,
upon every change of the officers of the institution. The trustees
having appointed a new superintendent, he now assumes the great
responsibility. It may not be second to any in the state; yet a man of
energy, who is influenced by a desire to do good, and who will not
measure his reward by present emoluments or temporary fame, can bear
steadily and firmly the weight put upon him. The superintendent elect
has been a teacher elsewhere, and he is to be a teacher here also. His
work will not, in all particulars, correspond with the work that he has
left; yet the principles of government and education are in substance
the same. The head of a school always occupies a position of influence;
the characters of the children and youth confided to him are in a great
degree subject to his control. Here the teacher is neither aided nor
impeded by the usual home influences. This institution is at once a home
and a school; and its head has the united power and responsibility of
the parent and the teacher. Here are to be combined the social and moral
influences of home, the religious influences of the Sunday-school, with
the intellectual and moral training of the public school. He who to-day
enters upon this work should have both faith and courage. He is to deal
with the unfortunate rather than with the exceptional cases of humanity;
for all these are children whom the Father of the race, in his
providence, has confided to earthly parents to be educated for a
temporal and an immortal existence. That these parents, through crime,
ignorance, indolence, carelessness, or misfortune, have failed in their
work, is no certain evidence that we are to fail in ours. May we not
hope to see in this school the kindness, consideration, affection, and
forethought, of the parent, without the delusion which sometimes causes
the father or mother to treat the vices of the child as virtues, to be
encouraged? And may we not expect from the superintendent, to whom,
practically, the discipline of the school is confided, one
characteristic of good government, not always, it is feared, found in
punitive and reformatory institutions? I speak of the attributes of
equality, uniformity, and certainty, in the administration of the law.
To be sure, a school, a prison, or a state, will suffer when its code is
lax; and it will also suffer when its system is oppressive or
sanguinary; but these peculiarities in themselves do not so often, in
any community, produce dissatisfaction, disorder, and violence, as an
unequal, partial, and uncertain administration of the laws. If at times
the laws are administered strictly according to the letter, and if at
other times they are reluctantly enforced or altogether disregarded; if
it can never be known beforehand whether a violation is to be followed
by the prescribed penalty--especially if this uncertainty becomes
systematic, and a portion are favored, while the remainder are required
to answer strictly for all their delinquencies; and if, above all, these
favored ones are recognized as sentinels, or spies, or informers in the
service of the officers,--then not only will the spirit of
insubordination manifest itself, but that spirit may ripen into
alienations, feuds, and personal enmities, dangerous to the prosperity
of the institution. Here the scales of justice should be evenly
balanced, and the boy should learn, from his own daily experience, to
measure equal and exact justice unto others. I do not speak of systems
of government: they are essential, no doubt; but they are not to be
regarded as of the first importance in institutions for punishment or
reformation. Establish as wise a system as you can; but never trust to
that alone. Administer the system that you have with all the equality,
uniformity, and certainty, that you can command. As a general truth, it
may be said that the law is respected when these qualities are exhibited
in its administration; and, when these qualities are wanting, the spirit
of obedience is driven from the hearts and minds of the people.

But we are not to rely altogether, nor even chiefly, upon the visible
weapons of authority. Especially must the mind and heart of childhood
and youth be approached and quickened and strengthened by judicious
appeals to the sentiments of veneration and love, and to the principles
of the Christian faith. In this institution, one serious obstacle is
present; yet it may be overcome by energy, industry, and a spirit of
benevolence. I speak of the large number of inmates to be superintended
by one person. Men act in masses for the removal of general evils; but
the reformation of children must be individual, and to a great extent
dependent upon the agency, or at least upon the coöperation, of the
subjects of it. It is not easy for the superintendent to make himself
acquainted with the persons and familiar with the lives of six hundred
boys; yet this knowledge is quite essential to the exercise of a
salutary influence over them. He may be aided by the subordinate
officers of the institution; and that aid, under any circumstances, he
will need: but, after all, his own influence and power for good will be
measured by the extent of his personal acquaintance with the inmates as
individuals. First, then, government is essential to this school; not a
reign of terror, but a government whose majesty, power, equality,
certainty, uniformity, and consequent justice, shall be experienced by
all alike; and, being experienced by all alike, will be respected,
reverenced, and obeyed.

And next the social, intellectual, and moral influences of the school
and the home should be combined and mingled, or else the visible forms
of government become a skeleton, merely indicating the figure,
structure, and outline, of the perfect body, but destitute of the vital
principle which alone could render it of any value to itself or to the
world.

This institution is not an end, but a means. The home itself is only a
preparatory school for life. This is a substitute for the home, but is
not, and never can be, its equal. It therefore follows that a boy should
be removed whenever a home can be secured, especially if his reformation
has been previously so far accomplished as to render the completion of
the work probable.

A great trust has been confided to the officers of the Reform School;
but the power to do good is usually proportionate to the responsibility
imposed upon the laborer. In this view, much will be expected; but the
expectations formed ought not to relate so much to results as to the
wisdom and humanity with which the operations are conducted.
Massachusetts is charged with the support of a great number of
charitable and reformatory institutions. Their necessity springs from
the defects of social life; therefore their existence is a comparative
rather than a positive good; and he is the truest friend of the race who
does most to remove the causes of poverty, ignorance, insanity, mental
and physical weakness, moral waywardness, and crime.




THE CARE AND REFORMATION OF THE NEGLECTED AND EXPOSED CLASSES OF
CHILDREN.

[An Address delivered at the opening of the State Industrial School for
Girls, at Lancaster, Massachusetts.]


In man's limited view, the moral world presents a sad contrast to the
natural. The natural world is harmonious in all its parts; but the moral
world is the theatre of disturbing and conflicting forces, whose laws
the finite mind cannot comprehend. The majesty and uniformity of the
planetary revolutions, which bring day and night, summer and winter,
seed-time and harvest, know no change. Worlds and systems of worlds are
guided by a law of the Infinite Mind; and so, through unnumbered years
and myriads of years, birth and death, creation and decay, decrees whose
fixedness enables finite minds to predict the future, and rules whose
elasticity is seen in a never-ending variety of nature, all alike prove
that the sin of disobedience is upon man alone.

But, if man only, of all the varied creations of earth, may fall from
his high estate, so to him only is given the power to rise again, and
feebly, yet with faith, advance towards the Divine Excellence. This,
then, is the great thought of the occasion, to be accepted by the hearts
and illustrated in the lives of all. The fallen may be raised up, the
exposed may be shielded, the wanderers may be called home, or else this
house is built upon the sand, and doomed to fall when the rains shall
descend, the floods come, and the winds blow. The returning autumn, with
its harvest of sustenance and wealth, bids us contemplate again the
mystery and harmony of the natural world. The tree and the herb produce
seed, and the seed again produces the tree and the herb, each after its
kind. There is a continued production and reproduction; but of
responsibility there is none. As there is no intelligent violation of
law, there is no accountability. Man, however, is an intelligent,
dependent, fallible, and, of course, responsible being. He is
responsible for himself, responsible in some degree for his fellow-man.
There is not a chapter in the history of the human race, nor a day of
its experience, which does not show that the individual members are
dependent upon, and responsible to, each other. This great fact, of six
thousand years' duration, at once presents to us the necessity for
government, and defines the limits of its powers and duties. Government,
then, is a union of all for the protection and welfare of each. This
definition presents, in its principles and statement, the highest form
of human government,--a form not yet perfectly realized on earth. It
sets forth rather what government ought to be, than what it has been or
is. Too often historical governments, and living governments even, may
be defined as a union of a few for their benefit, and for the oppression
of many. The reason of man has not often been consulted in their
formation, and the interests and principles of the masses have usually
been disregarded in their administration.

A true government is at once representative, patriarchal, and paternal.
In the path of duty for this day and this occasion, we shall consider
the last-named quality only,--governments should be paternal. The
paternal government is devoted to the elevation and improvement of its
members, with no ulterior motive except the necessary results of
internal purity and strength. Every government is, in some degree, no
doubt, paternal. Nor are those governments to be regarded as eminently
so, where the people are most controlled in their private, personal
affairs. These are mere despotisms; and despotism is not a just nor
necessary element of the paternal relation. That government is most
truly paternal which does most to enable its citizens or subjects to
regulate their own conduct, and determine their relations to others. In
the midst of general darkness, the paternal element of government has
been a light to the human race. It modified the patriarchal slavery of
the Hebrews, relieved the iron rule of Sparta, made European feudalism
the hope of civilization in the Dark Ages, and the basis of its coming
glories in the near future; and it now leads men to look with toleration
upon the despotism of Russia, and with kindness upon the simplicity and
arrogance of the Celestial Empire.

We complain, justly enough, that the world is governed too much; and
yet, in a great degree, we neglect the means by which the proper
relations of society could be preserved, and the world be governed less.
In what works are the so-called Christian governments principally
engaged? Are they not seeking, by artifice, diplomacy, and war, to
extend national boundaries, preserve national honor, or enforce nice
distinctions against the timid and weak? Yet it is plain that a nation
is powerful according to the character of the living elements of which
it is composed. If it is disorganized morally, uncultivated in
intellect, ignorant, indolent, or wasteful in its labor, its claims to
greatness are destitute of solid foundation, and it must finally yield
to those that have sought and gained power by the elevation of the
individual as the element of the nation.

That nation, then, is wise, and destined to become truly great, which
cultivates the best elements of individual life and character. It is not
enough to read the parable of the lost sheep, and of the ninety and nine
that went not astray, and then say, "Even so, it is not the will of your
Father which is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish,"
while the means of salvation, as regards the life of this world merely,
are very generally neglected. Such neglect is followed by error and
crime; and error and crime are followed by judgment not always tempered
with mercy.

While human governments debate questions of war and peace, of trade and
revenue, of annexations with ceremony, and appropriations of territory
without ceremony, who shall answer to the Governor and Judge of all for
the neglect, indifference, and oppression, which beget and foster the
delinquencies of childhood, and harden the criminals of adult life?

And who shall answer for those distinctions of caste and systems of
labor which so degrade and famish masses of human beings, that the
divine miracle of the feeding of the five thousand must be multiplied
many times over before the truths of nature or revelation can be
received into teachable minds or susceptible hearts? And who shall
answer for the hereditary poverty, ignorance and crime, which
constitute a marked feature of English life, and are distinctly visible
upon the face of American civilization? These questions may point with
sufficient distinctness to the sources of the evils enumerated; but we
are not to assume that mere human governments can furnish an adequate
and complete remedy. Yet this admitted inability to do everything is no
excuse for neglecting those things which are plainly within their power.
Taking upon themselves the parental character, forgetting that they have
wrongs to avenge, and seeking reformation through kindness, criminals
and the causes of crime will diminish, if they do not disappear. This is
the responsibility of the nations, and the claim now made upon them.
Individual civilization and refinement have always been in advance of
national; and national character is the mirrored image of the individual
characters, not excepting the humblest, of which the nation is composed.
Each foot of the ocean's surface has, in its fluidity or density or
position, something of the quality or power of every drop of water which
rests or moves in the depths of the sea. What is called national
character is the face of the great society beneath; and, as that society
in its elements is elevated or debased, so will the national character
rise or fall in the estimation of all just men, and upon the page of
impartial history. Government, which is the organized expression of the
will of society, should represent the best elements of which society is
composed; and it ought, therefore, to combat error and wrong, and seek
to inaugurate labor, justice, and truth, as the elements of stability,
growth, and power. It must accept as its principles of action the best
rules of conduct in individuals. The man who avenges his personal wrongs
by personal attacks or vindictive retaliation, must sacrifice in some
measure the sympathy of the wise, the humane, and the good. So the
nation which avenges real or fancied wrongs crushes out the elements of
humanity and a higher life, which, properly cultivated, might lead an
erring mortal to virtue and peace. The proper object of punishment is
not vengeance, but the public safety and the reformation of the
criminal. Indeed, we may say that the sole object of punishment is the
reformation of the criminal; for there can be no safety to the public
while the criminal is unreformed. The punishment of the prison must,
from its nature, be temporary; perpetual confinement can be meted out to
a few great crimes only. If, then, the result of punishment be
vengeance, and not reformation, the last state of society is worse than
its first. The prison must stand a sad monument of the want of true
paternal government in the family and the state; but, when it becomes
the receptacle merely of the criminal, and all ideas of reformation are
banished from the hearts of convicts and the minds of keepers, its
influence is evil, and only evil continually.

Vice, driven from the presence of virtue, with no hope of reformation or
of restoration to society, begets vice, and becomes daily more and more
loathsome. Misery is so universal that some share falls to the lot of
all; but that misery whose depths cannot be sounded, whose heights
cannot be scaled, is the fortune of the prison convict only, who has no
hope of reformation to virtue or of restoration to the world. His is the
only misery that is unrelieved; his is the only burden that is too great
to be borne. To him the foliage of the tree, the murmur of the brook,
the mirror of the quiet lake, or the thunder of the heaving ocean, would
be equally acceptable. His separation from nature is no less burdensome
than his separation from man. The heart sinks, the spirit turns with a
consuming fire upon itself, the soul is in despair; the mind is first
nerved and desperate, then wandering and savage, then idiotic, and
finally goes out in death. Governments cannot often afford to protect
themselves, or to avenge themselves, at such a cost. There may be great
crimes on which such awful penalties should be visited; but, for the
honor of the race, let them be few.

We may err in our ideas of the true relations of the prison to the
prisoner. We call a prison good or bad when we see its walls, cells,
workshops, its means of security, and points of observation. These are
very well. They are something; but they are not all. We might so judge a
hospital for the sick; and we did once so judge an asylum for the
insane.

But what to the sick man are walls of wood, brick, granite, or marble?
What are towers and turrets, what are wards, halls, and verandas, if
withal he is not cheered and sustained by the sympathizing heart and
helping hand? And similar preparations furnish for the insane personal
security and physical comfort; but can they


                   "Minister to a mind diseased;
     Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
     Raze out the written troubles of the brain?"


And it may be that the old almshouse at Philadelphia, which was nearly
destitute of material aids, and had only superintendent, matrons, and
assistants, was, all in all, the best insane asylum in America.

We cannot neglect the claims of security, discipline, and labor, in the
erection of jails and prisons; but to acknowledge these merely will
never produce the proper fruit of punishment--reformation. Indeed,
walls of stone, gates of iron, bolts, locks, and armed sentinels, though
essential to security, without which there could be neither punishment
nor reformation, are in themselves barriers rather than helps to moral
progress. Standing outside, we cannot say what should be done either in
the insane hospital or the prison; but we can deduce from the experience
of modern times a safe rule for general conduct. In the insane hospital
the patient is to be treated as though he were sane; and in the jail the
prisoner is to be treated, nearly as may be, as though he were virtuous.
This rule, especially as much of it as applies to the prisoner, may be
recklessness to some, to others folly, to others sin.

"The court awards it, and the law doth give it," is no doubt the essence
and strength of governmental justice in the sentence decreed; but it
would be a sad calamity if there were no escape from its literal
fulfilment. And let no one borrow the words of Portia to the Jew, and
say to the state,


       "Nor cut thou less nor more,
     But just a pound of flesh."


As the criminal staggers beneath the accumulated weight of his sin and
its penalty, he should feel that the state is not only just in the
language of its law, but merciful in its administration; that the
government is, in truth, paternal. This feeling inspires confidence and
hope; and without these there can be no reformation. And, following this
thought, we are led to say, it is a sad and mischievous public delusion
that the pardoning power is useless or pernicious. It is a _delusion_;
for it is the only means by which the state mingles mercy with its
justice,--the means by which the better sentiments of the prison are
marshalled in favor of order, of law, of progress. It is a _public
delusion_; for it has infected not only the masses of society, who know
little of what is going on in courts and prisons, but its influence is
observed upon the bench and in the bar, especially among those who are
accustomed to prosecute and try criminals. This is not strange, nor
shall it be a subject of complaint; but we must not always look upon the
prisoner as a criminal, and continually disregard his claims as a man.
It is not often easy, nor always possible, to make the proper
distinction between the _character_ and _condition_ of the prisoner. But
the prison, strange as it may seem, follows the general law of life. It
has its public sentiment, its classes, its leading minds, as well as the
university or the state; it has its men of mark, either good or bad, as
well as congress or parliament. As the family, the church, or the
school, is the reflection of the best face of society, so the prison is
the reflection of the worst face of society. But it nevertheless is
society, and follows its laws with as much fidelity as the world at
large.

It is said that Abbé Fissiaux, the head of the colony of Marseilles,
when visiting Mettray, a kind of reform school, at which boys under
sixteen years of age, who have committed offences without discernment,
are sent, asked the colonists to point out to him the three best boys.
The looks of the whole body immediately designated three young persons
whose conduct had been irreproachable to an exceptional degree. He then
applied a more delicate test. "Point out to me," said he, "the worst
boy." All the children remained motionless, and made no sign; but one
little urchin came forward, with a pitiful air, and said, in a very low
tone, "_It is me._" Such were the public sentiment and sense of honor,
even in a reform school. This frankness in the lad was followed by
reformation; and he became in after years a good soldier,--the life
anticipated for many members of the institution.

The pardoning power is not needed in reform and industrial schools,
where the managers have discretionary authority; but it is quite
essential to the discipline of the prison to let the light of hope into
the prisoner's heart. Not that all are to enjoy the benefits of
executive clemency,--by no means: only the most worthy and promising
are to be thus favored. But, for many years, the Massachusetts prison
has been improved and elevated in its tone and sentiment above what it
would have been; while, as it is believed, over ninety per cent. of the
convicts thus discharged have conducted themselves well. If the
prisoner's conduct has not been, upon the whole, reasonably good, and
for a long time irreproachable, he has no chance for clemency; and,
whatever may be his conduct, and whatever may be the hopes inspired, he
should not be allowed to pass without the prison walls until a friend,
labor, and a home, are secured for him. And the exercise of the
pardoning power, if it anticipate the expiration of the legal sentence
but a month, a week, or a day even, may change the whole subsequent
life. Men, criminals, convicts, are not insensible to kindness; and when
the government shortens the legal sentence, which is usually their
measure of justice, they feel an additional obligation to so behave as
to bring no discredit upon a power which has been a source of
inestimable joy to them. And prisoners thus discharged have often gone
forth with a feeling that the hopes of many whom they had left behind
were centred in them.

Mr. Charles Forster, of Charlestown, says, in a letter to me: "I have
been connected with the Massachusetts State Prison for a period of
thirty-eight years, and have always felt a strong interest in the
improvement, welfare, and happiness, of the unfortunate men confined
within its walls. I am conversant with many touching cases of deep and
heartfelt gratitude for kindly acts and sympathy bestowed upon them,
both during and subsequent to their imprisonment." And the same
gentleman says further, "I think that the proportion of persons
discharged from prison by executive clemency, who have subsequently been
convicted of penal offences, is very small indeed." To some, whose
imaginations have pictured a broad waste or deep gulf between themselves
and the prisoner class, these may seem strange words; but there is no
mystery in this language to those who have listened to individual cases
of crime and punishment. Men are tried and convicted of crimes according
to rules and definitions which are necessarily arbitrary and technical;
but the moral character of criminals is not very well defined by the
rules and definitions which have been applied to their respective cases.
Our prisons contain men who are great and professional criminals,--men
who advisedly follow a life of crime themselves, and deliberately
educate generation after generation to a career of infamy and vice. As a
general thing, mercy to such men would be unpardonable folly. Of them I
do not now speak. But there is another class, who are involved in guilt
and its punishment through the defects of early education, the
misfortune of orphanage, accident, sudden temptation, or the influence
of evil companionship in youth.

The field from which this class is gathered is an extensive one, and its
outer limits are near to every hearthstone. To all these, prison life,
unless it is relieved by a hope of restoration to the world at the hand
of mercy, is the school of vice, and a certain preparation for a career
of crime. As a matter of fact, this class does furnish recruits to
supply the places of the hardened villains who annually die, or
permanently forsake the abodes of civilized men. What hope can there be
for a young man who remains in prison until the last day of his sentence
is measured by the sun in his course, and then passes into the world,
with the mark of disgrace and the mantle of shame upon him, to the
society of the companions by whose influence he first fell? For such a
one there can be no hope. And be it always remembered that there are
those without the prison walls, as well as many within, who resist every
effort to bring the wanderers back to obedience and right. I was present
at the prison in Charlestown when the model of a bank-lock was taken
from a young man whose term had nearly expired. The model was cut in
wood, after a plan drawn upon sand-paper by an experienced criminal,
then recently convicted. This old offender was so familiar with the
lock, that he was able to reproduce all its parts from memory alone.
This fact shows the influence that may be exerted, even in prison, upon
the characters of the young and less vicious. Now, can any doubt that
these classes, as classes, ought to be separated? Nor let the question
be met by the old statement, that all communication between prisoners
should be cut off. Humanity cannot defend, as a permanent system, the
plan which shuts up the criminal, unless he is a murderer, from the
light of the human countenance. Such penalties foster crimes, whose
roots take hold of the state itself.

The result of the exercise of the pardoning power is believed to have
been, upon the whole, satisfactory. This is the concurrent testimony of
officers and others whose opinions are entitled to weight. Permit the
statement of a single case, to which many similar ones might be added.
In a remote state of the West there is a respectable and successful
farmer, who was once sentenced to the penitentiary for life. His crime
was committed in a moment of desperation, produced by the contrast
between a state of abject poverty in a strange land, at the age of
twenty-three, and the recollection of childhood and youth passed beneath
the parental roof, surrounded by the comforts and conveniences of the
well-educated and well-conditioned classes of English society. This, it
is true, was a peculiar case. It was marked in the circumstances and
enormity of the crime, and marked in the subsequent good conduct of the
prisoner. But can any one object, that, after ten years' imprisonment,
this man was allowed to try his fortunes once more among his fellow-men?
Are there those who would have had no faith in his uninterrupted good
conduct; in the abundant evidence of complete reformation; in the fact
that, in prison and poverty and disgrace, he had allied to him friends
of name and fortune and Christian virtues, who were ready to aid him in
his good resolutions? If any such there be, let them visit the solitary
cell of the despairing convict, whose crime is so great that executive
clemency fears to approach it. Crime and despair have made the features
appalling; all the worst passions of our nature riot together in the
temple made for the living God; and the death of the body is almost
certainly to be preceded by madness, insanity, and idiocy of the mind.
Or, if any think that this person escaped with too light an expiation
for so great a crime, let them recall the incident of the youth who was
questioned because he looked with fond affection into the babbling face
of the running brook, and, apologizing, as it were, in reply said, "O,
yes, it is very beautiful, and especially to me, who have seen no water
for four years, beside what I have had to drink!"

Nor is it assumed, in all that is said upon this subject, that the laws
are severe, or that the judicial administration of them is not
characterized by justice and mercy. In the ordinary course of affairs,
the pardoning power is not resorted to for the correction of any error
or injustice of the courts; but it is the means by which the state
tempers its justice with mercy; and, if the penalties for crime were
less than they are, the necessity for the exercise of this power would
still remain. It assumes that the object of the penal law is
reformation; and if this object, in some cases, can be attained by the
exercise of the pardoning power, while the rigid execution of the
sentence would leave the criminal, as it usually will, still hardened
and unrepenting, is it not wise for the state to benefit itself, and
save the prisoner, by opening the prison-doors, and inviting the convict
to a life of industry and virtue? And let it never be forgotten, though
it is the lowest view which can be taken of crime and prisons, that the
criminal class is the most expensive class of society. In general, it is
a non-producing class, and, whether in prison or out, is a heavy burden
upon the public. The mere interest of the money now expended in prisons
of approved structure is, for each cell, equal annually to the net
income of a laboring man; and professional thieves, when at large, often
gather by their art, and expend in profligacy, many thousand dollars a
year. And here we see how much wiser it is, in an economical point of
view, to save the child, or reform the man, than to allow the adult
criminal to go at large, or provide for his safe-keeping at the expense
of the state.

Under the influence of the pardoning power, wisely executed, the
commonwealth becomes a family, whose law is the law of kindness. It is
the paternal element of government applied to a class of people who, by
every process of reasoning, would be found least susceptible to its
influence. It is the great power of the state, both in the wisdom
required for its judicious exercise, and in the beneficial results to
which it may lead. Men may desire office for its emoluments in money or
fame; they may seek it in a spirit of rivalry, or for personal pride, or
for the opportunity it brings to reward friends and punish enemies; but
all these are poor and paltry compared with the divine privilege,
exercised always in reference to the public welfare, of elevating the
prisoner to the companionship of men, and cheering him with words of
encouragement on his entrance anew to the duties of life.

Yet think not that the prison is a reformatory institution: far from it.
If the prison should be left to the influence of legitimate prison
discipline merely, it is doubtful whether the sum of improvement would
equal the total of degradation. This may be said of the best prisons of
America, of New England. The prison usually contains every class, from
the hardened convict, incarcerated for house-breaking, robbery, or
murder, to the youth who expiates his first offence, committed under the
influence of evil companions, or sudden temptation. The contact of these
two persons must be injurious to one of them, without in any degree
improving the other. Therefore the prison, considered without reference
to the elevating influence of the pardoning power, has but little
ability to reform the bad, and yet possesses a sad tendency to debase
the comparatively good.

We miss, too, in the prison, another essential element of a reformatory
institution. Reformation in individual cases may take place under the
most adverse circumstances; but an institution cannot be called
reformatory unless its prevailing moral sentiment is actively,
vigorously, and always, on the side of progress and virtue. This moral
influence must proceed from the officers of the institution; but it
should be increased and strengthened by the sympathy and support of the
inmates. This can hardly be expected of the prison. The number of adult
persons experienced in crime and hardened by its penalties is usually so
large, that the moral sentiment of the officers, and the weak
resolutions of the small class of prisoners, who, under favorable
circumstances, might be saved, are insufficient to give a healthy tone
to the whole institution. The prison is a battle-field of vice and
virtue, with the advantage of position and numbers on the side of vice.
Indeed, there can hardly be a worse place for the young or the
inexperienced in crime. This is the testimony of reason and of all
experience; yet the public mind is slow to accept the remedy for the
evil. It is a privilege to believe that the worst scenes of prison life
are not found in the United States. Consider this case, reported in an
English journal, _The Ragged-School Magazine_:

"D. F., aged about fourteen. Mother dead several years; father a
drunkard, and deserted him about three years ago. Has since lived as he
best could,--sometimes going errands, sometimes begging and thieving.
Slept in lodging-houses when he had money; but very often walked the
streets at night, or lay under arches or door-steps. Has only one
brother; he lives by thieving. Does not know where he is; has no other
friend that he knows; never learnt to read; was badly off; picked a
handkerchief out of a gentleman's pocket, and was caught by a policeman;
sent to Giltspur-street Prison; was fed on bread and water; instructed
every day by chaplain and schoolmaster; much impressed with what the
chaplain said; felt anxious to do better; behaved well in prison; _was
well flogged the morning he left; back bruised, but not quite bleeding_;
was then turned into the street, ragged, barefooted, friendless,
homeless, penniless; walked about the streets till afternoon, when he
received a penny from a gentleman to buy a loaf; met, next day, some
expert thieves in the Minories; went along with them, and continues in a
course of vagrancy and crime."

And what else could have been expected? The government, having sown
tares, had no right to gather wheat. Yet, had this boy been provided
with a home, either in a family or a reform school, with sufficient
labor, and proper moral and intellectual culture, he might have been
saved. Of the three thousand persons annually in prison at Newgate,
four hundred are less than sixteen years of age; and twenty thousand
children and youth under seventeen years of age yearly pass through the
prisons of England. "Many of the juvenile prisoners," it is said, "have
been frequently in prison, and are very hardened. Some, from nine to
eleven, have been in prison repeatedly, and have very little fear of
it."

The officers of the Liverpool Borough Jail are united in the opinion
that, when a boy comes once, he is almost certain to come again and
again, until he is transported. And, of every one hundred young persons
discharged from the principal prisons of Paris, seventy-five are in the
custody of the law within the next three months. A professed thief said
to the Rev. Mr. Clay, of England, "I am convinced of this, having too
bitterly experienced it, that communication in a prison has brought
thousands to ruin. I speak not of boys only, but of men and women also."
And Mr. Hill, Recorder of Birmingham, says of the sentences imposed in
his court, "We are compelled to carry into operation an ignorant and
vengeful system, which augments to a fearful extent the very evils it
was framed to correct." A few years ago, there was a lad in a New
England prison whose experience is a pertinent illustration of the evil
we are now considering. His father, a resident of a city, died while
the boy was in infancy. He, however, soon passed beyond the control of
his mother, and at an early age was selected by a brace of thieves, who
petted, caressed, and humored him, until he was completely subject to
their will. He was then made useful to them in their profession; but at
last they were all arrested while engaged in robbing a store,--the boy
being within the building, and the men stationed as sentinels without.
In this case, the discretion of the court, which distinguished in the
sentence between the hardened villains and the youth, was inadequate to
the emergency. The child, unfit for the prison, and sure to be
contaminated by it, ought to have been sent to a house of reformation, a
reform school, or, perhaps better than either, to the custody of a
well-regulated, industrious family. Now, in such cases, the distinction
which the law, judicially administered, does not make, and cannot make,
must be made by the executive in the wise exercise of the pardoning
power. But this power, in the nature of things, has its limits; and on
one side it is limited to those who have been convicted of crime.

At this point, we may see how faulty, and yet how constantly improving,
has been the administration of the criminal law. First, we have the
prison without the pardoning power, except in cases of
mal-administration of the law,--a receptacle of the bad and good, where
the former are not improved, and the latter are hurried rapidly on in
the path of degradation and crime. Then we have the prison under the
influence of the pardoning power, more or less wisely administered, but,
in its best form, able only to arrest and counteract partially the
tendencies to evil. Next, from the imperfections of this system an
advancing civilization has evoked the Reform School, which gathers in
the young criminals and viciously inclined youth, and prepares them, by
labor, and culture of the mind and heart, to resist the temptations of
life. But this institution seems to wait, though it may not always in
reality do so, until the candidate is actually a criminal.

Hence the necessity which calls us to-day to consider the means adopted
elsewhere, and the means now to be employed here, to save the young and
exposed from the dangers which surround them.

Passing, then, in review, ladies and gentlemen, the thoughts which have
been presented, I deduce from them for your assent and support, if so it
please you, the following propositions as the basis of what I have yet
to say:

I. Government, in the prevention and punishment of crime, should be
paternal.

II. The object of punishment should be reformation, and not revenge.

III. The law of reformation in the state, as in the family, is the law
of kindness.

IV. As criminals vary in age and in experience as criminals, so should
their treatment vary.

V. Prisons and jails are not, in their foundation and management,
reformatory institutions, and only become so through influences not
necessarily nor ordinarily acting upon them.

VI. As prisons and jails deter from crime through fear only, exert very
little moral influence upon the youth of either sex, and fail in many
respects and in a majority of cases as reformatory institutions, we
ought to avail ourselves of any new agency which promises success.


Influenced, as we may reasonably suppose, by these or kindred
sentiments, and aided by the noblest exhibitions of private benevolence,
the state has here founded a school for the prevention of crime. As we
have everywhere among us schools whose _leading_ object is the
development of the intellect, so we now dedicate a school whose
_leading_ object is the development of the affections as the basis of
the cardinal virtues of life.

The design of this institution is so well expressed by the trustees,
that it is a favor to us all for me to read the first chapter of the
by-laws, which, by the consent of the Governor and Council, have been
established:

"The intention of the state government, and of the benevolent
individuals who have contributed to the establishment of this
institution, is to secure a _home_ and a _school_ for such girls as may
be presented to the magistrates of the state, appointed for that
purpose, as vagrants, perversely obstinate, deprived of the control and
culture of their natural guardians, or guilty of petty offences, and
exposed to a life of crime and wretchedness.

"For such young persons it is proposed to provide, not a prison for
their restraint and correction, but a family school, where, under the
firm but kind discipline of a judicious home, they shall be carefully
instructed in all the branches of a good education; their moral
affections be developed and cultivated by the example and affectionate
care of one who shall hold the relation of a mother to them; be
instructed in useful and appropriate forms of female industry; and, in
short, be fitted to become virtuous and happy members of society, and to
take respectable positions in such relations in life as Providence shall
hereafter mark out for them.

"It is to be distinctly understood that the institution is not to be
considered a _place of punishment_, or its subjects as criminals. It is
to be an inviting refuge, into which the exposed may be gathered to be
saved from a course which would inevitably end in penal confinement,
irretrievable ruin, or hopeless degradation.

"The inmates are to be considered hopeful and promising subjects of
appropriate culture, and to be instructed and watched over with the care
and kindness which their peculiar exposures demand, and with the
confidence which youth should ever inspire.

"The restraint and the discipline which will be necessary are to be such
as would be appropriate in a Christian family or in a small
boarding-school; and the 'law of kindness' should be written upon the
heart of every officer of the institution. The chief end to be obtained,
in all the culture and discipline, is the proper development of the
faculties and moral affections of the inmates, however they may have
been heretofore neglected or perverted; and to teach them the art, and
aid them in securing the power, of self-government."

Under the influence of these sentiments, we pass, if possible, in the
work of reformation, from the rigor of the prison to the innocent
excitement and rivalry of the school, the comfort, confidence and joys
of home. This institution assumes that crime, to some extent at least,
is social, local, or hereditary, in its origin; that the career of
hardened criminals often takes its rise in poverty, idleness, ignorance,
orphanage, desertion, or intemperance of parents, evil example, or the
indifference, scorn and neglect of society. It assumes, also, that there
is a period of life--childhood and youth--when these, the first
indications of moral death, may be eradicated, or their influence for
evil controlled. In this land of education, of liberty, of law, of labor
and religion, we may not easily imagine how universal the enumerated
evils are in many portions of Europe. The existence of these evils is in
some degree owing to institutions which favor a few, and oppress the
masses; but it is also in a measure due to the fact that Europe is both
old and multitudinous. America, though still young, is even now
multitudinous. Hence, both here and there, crime is social and local.
The truth of this statement is proportionate to the force of the causes
in the respective countries.

We are assembled upon a sloping hillside, over-looking a quiet country
village. Happy homes are embowered in living groves, whose summer
foliage is emblematical of innocence, progress, and peace. We have here
a social life, with natural impulses, cultivated worldly interests,
moral and religious sentiments, all on the side of virtue. Crime here
is not social. If it appear at all, it is segregated; and, as the
burning taper expires when placed at the centre of the spirit lamp's
coiling sheet of flame, so vice and crime cannot thrive in the genial
embrace of virtue.

Circumstances are here unfavorable to crime; it is never social; but
sometimes, though not often, it is hereditary. A family for many
generations seems to have a criminal tendency. Perhaps the members are
not in any generation guilty of great crimes, but often of lesser ones;
and are, moreover, in the daily practice of vices that give rise to
suspicion, neglect, and reproach. Here together are associated, and made
hereditary, poverty, ignorance, idleness, beggary, and vagrancy. Surely
these instances are not common, probably not so common as they were in
the last generation. But how is the boy or girl of such a family to rise
above these circumstances, and throw off these weights? Occasionally one
of great energy of character may do so; but, if the children of more
fortunate classes can scarcely escape the influence of temporary evil
example, how shall they who are born to a heritage of poverty,
ignorance, and ever-present evil counsel and conduct under the guise of
parental authority, pass to the position of intelligent, industrious,
respectable members of society? Some external influence must be
applied; by some means from without, the spell must be broken; the
fatal succession of vicious homes must be interrupted. The family has
here failed to discharge its duty to itself and to the state; and shall
not the state do its duty to itself, by assuming the paternal relation
under the guidance of that law of kindness, which we have seen effectual
to control the insane, and melt the hardened criminal? But in cities we
find vice, not only hereditary in families, but local and social; so
that streets and squares are given up, as it were, to the idle and
vicious, whose numbers and influence produce and perpetuate a public
sentiment in support of their daily practices. This phase of life is not
due to the fact that cities are wealthy, or that they are engaged in
manufactures or commerce; but to the single fact that they are
multitudinous, and their inhabitants are, therefore, in daily contact
with each other, while, in the country, individuals and families are
comparatively isolated. Yet some may very well doubt whether such an
institution as this, with all the benign influences of home which we
hope to see centred and diffusive here, will save a child of either sex,
whose first years shall have been so unfavorable to a life of virtue.

The answer is plain: as in other reformatory institutions, there will be
some successes and some failures. The failures will be reckoned as they
were; the successes will be a clear gain.

But investigation and trial will show a natural aptitude or instinct in
children that will aid in their improvement and reformation. There has
been in one of our public schools a lad, who, at the age of fourteen
years, could not recall distinctly the circumstances of his life
previous to the time when he was a newsboy in the city of New York. He
was ignorant of father, mother, kindred, family name, and nation. At an
early age, he travelled through the middle, southern and south-western
states, engaged in selling papers and trash literature; and, for a time,
he was employed by a showman to stand outside the tent and describe and
exaggerate the attractions within. When he was in his fourteenth year,
he accepted the offer of a permanent home; his chief object being, as he
said, to obtain an education. "I have found," said he, "that a man
cannot do much in this country unless he has some learning." This truth,
simple, and resting upon a low view of education, may yet be of infinite
value if accepted by those who, even among us, are advancing to adult
life without the preparation which our common schools are well fitted to
furnish. And the case of this lad may be yet further useful by showing
how compensation is provided for evils and neglects in mental and moral
relations, as well as in the physical and natural world. Though ignorant
of books, he was thoroughly and extensively acquainted with things, and
consequently made rapid progress in the knowledge of signs; for they
were immediately applied, and of course remembered. In a few months, he
took a respectable position among lads of his age. The world had done
for this boy what good schools do not always accomplish,--made him
familiar with things before he was troubled with the signs which stand
for them. There is an ignorance in manhood; an ignorance under the show
of profound learning; an ignorance for which schools, academies and
colleges, are often responsible; an ignorance that neither schools,
academies nor colleges, can conceal from the humblest intellects; an
ignorance of life and things as they are within the sphere of our own
observation. From this most deplorable ignorance this boy had escaped;
and the light of learning illumined his mind, as the sun in his daily
return reveals anew those forms of life, which, even in an ungenial
spring and early summer, his rays had warmed into existence, and
nourished and cherished in their progress towards perfection.

And, ladies and gentlemen, let us indulge the hope that the events of
this day and the faith of this assembly will declare that it is
possible to save the children of orphanage, intemperance, neglect, scorn
and ignorance, from many of the evils which surround them. Let it not be
assumed and believed that the task of training and saving girls is less
hopeful than similar labors in behalf of the other sex. It has been
found true in Europe, and it is a prevailing opinion in this country,
that, among adults, the reformation of females is more difficult than
the reformation of males. But an analysis of this fact, assuming it to
be true, will unfold qualities of female character that render it
peculiarly easy to shield and save girls who are exposed to a life of
crime; for, be it remembered, this institution deals with mere children,
who are exposed, but not yet lost. It differs, in this respect, from
most institutions, although many include this class with others. And it
may be well to remark, that every reformatory school in Europe, even
those altogether penal,--as Parkhurst in England, and Mettray in
France,--have had some measure of success. Eighty-nine per cent. of the
colons, or convicts, at Mettray, have become respectable and useful;
while, of the youth sent to the ordinary jails and prisons, seventy-five
per cent. are totally lost. It is not fair, therefore, to assume that
this attempt will fail. The degree of success will depend upon
circumstances and causes, to a great extent, within human control.
There are, however, three elements of success, so distinct that they may
well stand as the appropriate divisions of what remains for
consideration. They are the right action of the government; the faithful
conduct of superintendent, matrons, and assistants; the sympathy and aid
of the people of the state in matters which do not admit of legislative
interference.

The act of the Legislature, though voluminous in its details,
contemplates only this: A home for girls between seven and sixteen years
of age, who are found "in circumstances of want and suffering, or of
neglect, exposure, or abandonment, or of beggary." The first idea of
_home_ precludes the possibility of the inmates being sent here as a
punishment for crime; therefore they are neither adjudged nor actual
criminals, but persons exposed to a vicious life. Secondly, the idea of
home involves the necessity of reproducing the family relation, as
circumstances may permit. Hence, the members of this institution are to
be divided into families; and over each a matron will preside, who is to
be a kind, affectionate, discreet mother to the children.

And here, for once, in Massachusetts, a public institution has escaped
the tyranny of bricks and mortar; and we are permitted to indulge the
hope, that any future additions will tend to make this spot a
neighborhood of unostentatious cottages, quiet rural homes, rather than
the seat of a vast edifice, which may provoke the wonder of the
sight-seer, inflame local or state pride, but can never be an effectual,
economical agency in the work of reformation. Every public institution
has some great object. Architecture should bend itself to that object,
and become its servant; and it must ever be deemed a mistake, when
utility is sacrificed that art or fancy may have its way.

Reformation, if wrought by external influences, is the result of
personal kindness. Personal kindness can exist only where there is
intimate personal acquaintance; this acquaintance is impossible in an
institution of two, three, or five hundred inmates. But, in a family of
ten, twenty, or thirty, this knowledge will exist, and this kindness
abound. Warm personal attachments will grow up in the family, and these
attachments are likely to become safeguards of virtue.

Nor let the objection prevail that the expense is to be increased. It is
not the purpose to set up an establishment and maintain it for a
specific sum of money, but to provide thorough mental and moral training
for the inmates. Make the work efficient, though it be limited to a
small number, rather than inaugurate a magnificent failure.

The state has wisely provided that the "trustees shall cause the girls
under their charge to be instructed in piety and morality, and in such
branches of useful knowledge as shall be adapted to their age and
capacity; they shall also be instructed in some regular course of labor,
either mechanical, manufacturing, or horticultural, or a combination of
these, and especially in such domestic and household labor and duties as
shall be best suited to their age and strength, disposition and
capacity; also in such other arts, trades, and employments, as may seem
to the trustees best adapted to secure their reformation, amendment, and
future benefit."

It is sometimes the bane of the poor that they do not work, and it is
often equally the bane of the rich that they have nothing to do. The
idle, both rich and poor, carry a weight of reproach that not all ought
to bear. The disposition and the ability to labor are both the result of
education; and why should the uneducated be better able to labor than to
read Greek and Latin? Surely only that there are more teachers in one
department than in the others; but a good teacher of labor may be as
uncommon as a good teacher of Latin or Greek. There is a false, vicious,
unmanly pride, which leads our youth of both sexes to shun labor; and
it is the business of the true teacher to extirpate this growth of a
diseased civilization. And we could have no faith in this school, if it
were not a school of industry as well as of morality,--a school in which
the divine law of labor is to be observed equally with the laws of men.
Industry is near to all the virtues. In this era every branch of labor
is an art, and sometimes it is necessary for the laborer to be both an
artist and a scientific person. How great, then, the misfortune of
those, whether rich or poor, who are uninstructed in the business of
life! We should hardly know what judgment to pass upon a man of wealth
who should entirely neglect the education of his children in schools;
but the common indifference to industrial learning is not less
reprehensible. Labor should be systematic; not constant, indeed, but
always to be reckoned as the great business of life, never to be
avoided, never to cease.

Labor gives us a better knowledge of the fulness, magnificence and
glory, of the divine blessing of creation. This lesson may be learned by
the farmer in the wonderful growth of vegetation; by the artist, in the
powers of invention and taste of the human mind and soul; by the man of
science, in the beauty of an insect or the order of a universe. The
vision of the idle is limited. The ability to see may be improved by
education as much as the ability to read, remember, or converse. With
many people, not seeing is a habit. Near-sighted persons are generally
those who declined to look at distant objects; and so nature, true to
the most perfect rules of economy, refused to keep in order faculties
that were entirely neglected. The laborer's recompense is not money, nor
the accumulation of worldly goods chiefly; but it is in his increased
ability to observe, appreciate, and enjoy the world, with its beauties
and blessings. Nor is labor, the penalty for sin, a punishment merely,
but a divine means of reformation. It is, therefore, a moral discipline
that all should submit to; and especially is it a means by which the
youth here are to be prepared for the duties of life. But industry is
not only near to all the virtues; it is itself a virtue, as idleness is
a vice. The word _labor_ is, of course, used in the broadest
signification. Labor is any honest employment, or use of the head or
hands, which brings good to ourselves, and consequently, though
indirectly, brings good to our fellow-men.

The state has now furnished a home, reproduced, as far as practicable,
the family relation, and provided for a class of neglected and exposed
girls the means of mental, industrial, moral, and religious culture. The
plan appears well; but its practical value depends upon the fidelity of
its execution by the superintendent, matrons and assistants. I venture
to predict in advance, that the degree of success is mainly within their
control. This is a school, they are the teachers; and they must bend to
the rule which all true teachers willingly accept.

The teacher must be what he would have his pupils become. This was the
standard of the great Teacher; this is the aim of all who desire to make
education a matter of reality and life, and not merely a knowledge of
signs and forms. Here will be needed a spirit and principle of devotion
which will be fruitful in humility, patience, earnestness, energy, good
words and works for all. Here must be strictness, possibly sternness of
discipline; but this is not incompatible with the qualities mentioned.
It is a principle at Mettray to combine unbounded personal kindness with
a rigid exclusion of personal indulgence.

This principle produces good results that are two-fold in their
influence. First, personal kindness in the teacher induces a reciprocal
quality in the pupils. The habit of personal kindness, proceeding from
right feelings, is a potent element of good in the family, the school,
and the prison. Indeed, it is an element of good citizenship; and no one
destitute of this quality ought to be intrusted with the education of
children, or the punishment and reformation of criminals.

Secondly, the rigid exclusion of personal indulgence trains the inmates
in the virtue of self-control. And may it not be forgotten that all
apparent reformation must be hedged by this cardinal virtue of practical
life! Otherwise the best-formed expectations will fail; the highest
hopes will be disappointed; and the life of these teachers, and the
promise of the youth who may be gathered here, will be like the sun and
the winds upon the desert, which bring neither refreshing showers nor
fruitful harvests. Every form of labor requires faith. This labor
requires faith in yourselves, and faith in others;--faith in yourselves,
as teachers here, based upon your own knowledge of what you are and are
to do; and faith in others upon the divine declaration that God breathed
into man the breath of life, and he became a living soul,--not merely as
the previous creations, possessed of animal life; but as a sentient,
intellectual, and moral being, capable of a progressive, immortal
existence.


     "'Tis nature's law
     That none, the meanest of created things,

            *       *       *       *       *

                                  Should exist
     Divorced from good,--a spirit and pulse of good,
     A life and soul, to every mode of being
     Inseparably linked.

     See, then, your only conflict is with men;
     And your sole strife is to defend and teach
     The unillumined, who, without such care,
     Must dwindle."


And always, as in the beginning, the reliance of this school is upon the
people of the commonwealth, whose voice has spoken into existence
another instrumentality to give eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, a
heart for the work of this life, and a hope for an hereafter, to those
who from neglect and vicious example would soon pass the period of
reformation. But may the people always bear in mind the indisputable
truth, that schools for the criminal and the exposed yield not their
perfect fruits in a day or a year! They must, if they will know whether
the seed here planted produces a harvest, wait for the birth and growth
of one generation, the decay and death of another. Yet these years of
delay will not be years of uncertainty. The public faith will be
strengthened continually by cases of reformation, usefulness, and
virtue. But, whether these cases be few or many, let no one despond. The
career of the criminal is, often in money and always in influence, the
heaviest burden which an individual can impose upon society.

This is a school for girls; and we may properly appeal to the women of
Massachusetts to do their duty to this institution, and to the cause it
represents. We can already see the second stage in the existence of many
of those who are to be sent here; and there is good reason to fear that
the relation of mistress and servant among us is in some degree
destitute of those moral qualities that make the house a home for all
who dwell beneath its roof. But, whether this fear be the voice of truth
or the suggestion of prejudice, that woman shall not be held blameless,
who, under the influence of indolence, pride, fashion, or avarice, shall
neglect, abuse, or oppress, the humblest of her sex who goes forth from
these walls into the broad and dangerous path of life. But this day
shall not leave the impression that they who are most interested in the
elevation and refinement of female character are indifferent to the
means employed, and the results which are to wait on them.

The greatest delineator of human character in this age says, as the
images of neglected children pass before his vision:

"There is not one of them--not one--but sows a harvest mankind _must_
reap. From every seed of evil in this boy a field of ruin is grown that
shall be gathered in, and garnered up, and sown again in many places in
the world, until regions are over-spread with wickedness enough to raise
the waters of another deluge. Open and unpunished murder in a city's
streets would be less guilty in its daily toleration than one such
spectacle as this. There is not a father, by whose side, in his daily or
nightly walk, these creatures pass; there is not a mother among all the
ranks of loving mothers in this land; there is no one risen from the
state of childhood, but shall be responsible, in his or her degree, for
this enormity. There is not a country throughout the earth on which it
would not bring a curse. There is no religion upon earth that it would
not deny; there is no people on earth that it would not put to shame."

This institution, then, in the true relation of things, is not the glory
of the state, but its shame. It speaks of families, of schools, of the
church, of the state, not yet educated to the discharge of their
respective duties in the right way. But it is the glory of the state as
a visible effort to correct evils, atone for neglects, and compensate
for wrongs. It comes to do, in part at least, what the family, the
school, the press, the library, the Sabbath, have nest yet perfectly
accomplished. As these agencies partially failed, so will this; but, as
the law of progress exists for all, because perfection with us is
unattainable, we may reasonably have faith in human improvement, and
trust that the life of each succeeding generation shall unite, in
ever-increasing proportions, the innocence of childhood with the wisdom
of age.




ELEMENTARY TRAINING IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS.

[Extract from the Twenty-Second Annual Report of the Secretary of the
Massachusetts Board of Education.]


We are still sadly defective in methods of education. Until recently
teaching was almost an unknown art; and we are at present struggling
against ignorance without any well-defined plan, and attempting to
develop and build up the immortal character of children, without a
philosophical and generally accepted theory of the nature of the human
mind. There are complaints that the duties and exactions of the schools
injure the health and impair the constitutions of pupils; that the
progress in intellectual attainments is not always what it should be;
that the training given is sometimes determined by the wishes of
committees against the better judgment of competent teachers; that the
text-books are defective; that the studies in the common schools are too
numerous; that the elements are consequently neglected; and that, in
fine, too much thought is bestowed upon exhibitions and contests for
public prizes, to the injury of good learning, and of individual and
general character. For these complaints there is some foundation; but
care should be exercised lest incidental and necessary evils become, in
the public estimation, great wrongs, and exceptional cases the evidence
of general facts.

It is to some extent true that the duties and exactions of the schools
seriously test the health of pupils; but it is, as I believe, more
generally true that many pupils are physically unable to meet the
ordinary and proper duties of the school-room. School life, as usually
conducted, is physically injurious, and our best efforts thus far have
been limited to the dissemination of elementary knowledge of physiology
as a science, and to an acquaintance with a limited number of important
physiological facts. Yet even here little has been accomplished in
comparison with what may be done. In this department there is much
instruction given that has no practical value, and children are often
permitted to live in daily and uniform neglect of the most essential
truths of science and the facts of human experience. Neither physiology
nor hygiene can be of much value in the schools, as a study, unless
there is an application of what is taught. Great proficiency cannot be
made in these branches in the brief period of school life; but a
competent teacher may induce the pupils to put in practice the lessons
that are applicable to childhood and youth. If, however, as is sometimes
the case, pupils are undermining the physical constitution in their
efforts to know how they are made, the loss is, unquestionably, more
than the gain. Physical health and growth depend, first, upon
opportunity; and hence it happens that, where physical life is most
defective, there the greatest difficulties in the way of its improvement
are found. Boys born in the country, living upon farms, accustomed
continually to outdoor labors and sports, walking a mile or more every
day to school, have but little use, in their own persons, for the
science or facts of physiology; and it is a very rare thing, where such
conditions have existed, that any teacher is able to exact an amount of
intellectual service that proves in any perceptible degree injurious.

But these opportunities are not so generally enjoyed by girls, and the
mass of children in cities are wholly deprived of them. In the country,
and even in villages and towns of considerable size, there is no excuse,
better than ignorance or indifference, for the lack of judicious and
efficient physical training of children and youth of both sexes. But
ignorance and indifference are facts; and, while and where they exist,
they are prejudicial to the growth of mind and body. The age at which
children should be admitted to school has not been ascertained, nor can
a satisfactory rule upon this point ever be laid down. If children are
not in schools, they are yet subject to influences that are formative of
character. When proper government and methods of education exist at
home, the presence of the child in school at an early age is not
desirable. Even when education at home is not methodical, it may be
continued until the child is seven or even eight years of age, if it is
at once moral, intelligent, and controlling. It is not, however, wise to
expect a child who is infirm physically to perform the labors imposed by
the necessary and proper regulations of school. When children enjoy good
health, and are not blessed with suitable training at home, they may be
introduced to the school, at the age of five years, with positive
advantage to themselves and to society.

When the child is a member of the school, what shall be done with him?
He must first be taught to take an interest in the exercises by making
the exercises interesting to him. That the transition from home to the
school may be easy, he should first occupy himself with those topics and
studies that are presented to the eye and to the ear, and may be
mastered, so as to produce the sensation that follows achievement with
only a moderate use of the reasoning and reflective faculties. Among
these are reading, writing, music, and drawing. This is also the time
when object lessons may be given with great advantage. The forms and
names of geometrical solids may be taught. Exercises may be introduced
tending to develop those powers by which we comprehend the qualities of
color, size, density, form, and weight. Important moral truths may be
presented with the aid of suitable illustrations. In every school the
teacher and text-books may be considered a positive quality which should
balance the negative power of the school itself. In primary schools
text-books have but little value, and the chief reliance is, therefore,
upon the teacher. Instruction must be mainly oral; hence the mind of the
teacher should be well furnished, and her capacities chastened by
considerable experience. As the pupils are unable to study, the teacher
must lead in all their exercises, and find profitable employment for the
children, or they will give themselves up to play or to stupid
listlessness. Of these alternatives, the latter is more objectionable
than the former.

It is, of course, not often possible for a teacher to occupy herself six
hours a day with a single class in a primary school, especially if she
confines her attention to the studies enumerated. In many schools, of
various grades, gymnastic exercises have been introduced with marked
advantage. There are many such exercises which do not need apparatus,
and in which the teacher can properly lead.

These furnish a healthful variety to the studies usually pursued, and
they prepare the pupils to receive appropriate instruction in sitting,
standing, and in the modulation and use of the voice. Indeed, gymnastic
exercises are indispensable aids to proper training in reading, which,
as an art of a high order, is immediately dependent upon position,
habits of breathing, the consequent power of voice, and expressiveness
of tone. I am fully satisfied that much more may be done in the early
period of school life than is usually accomplished. In the district
mixed schools the primary pupils receive but little attention, and they
are not infrequently occupied from one to three years in obtaining an
imperfect knowledge of the alphabet. Usually much better results are
attained by the combined agency of the home and the school, but there is
an average loss of one-fourth of the time employed in teaching and
learning the elements of our language.

Mr. Philbrick, Superintendent of Public Schools in Boston, has taught
and trained a class of fifty primary-school pupils with a degree of
success which fully sustains the statement of the average waste in
schools generally. Twenty-two lessons of a half-hour each were given;
and in this brief period of time the class, with a few exceptions, were
so well advanced that they could write the alphabet in capital and
script hand, give the elementary sounds of the letters, produce and name
the Arabic characters and the common geometrical figures found upon
Holbrook's slates. I saw a girl, five and a half years of age, write the
alphabet without delay in script hand, in a manner that would have been
creditable to a pupil in a grammar school.

I present Mr. Philbrick's own account of his mode of proceeding, in an
extract from his third quarterly report to the school committee of the
city of Boston.

"The regulations relating to the primary schools require every scholar
to be provided with a slate, and to employ the time not otherwise
occupied in drawing or writing words from their spelling lessons, on
their slates, in a plain script hand. It is further stated, in the same
connection, that the teachers are expected to take special pains to
teach the first class to write--not print--all the letters of the
alphabet on slates.

"The language of this requirement seems to imply that the classes below
the first are to draw and write words, in a plain script hand, without
any special pains to teach them, and that by such occupation they were
to be kept from idleness. As I saw neither of these objects
accomplished in any primary school, I thought it worth while to satisfy
myself, by actual experiment, what can and ought to be done, in the use
of the slate and blackboard, in teaching writing and drawing in primary
schools. To accomplish this object, I have given a course of lessons in
a graded or classified school of the third class. The number of pupils
instructed in the class was about fifty. The materials of the school are
rather below the average; about twenty of the pupils being of that
description usually found in schools for special instruction. The
school-room is furnished, as every primary school-room should be, with
stationary chairs and desks, and Holbrook's primary slates. Twenty-two
lessons, of from thirty to forty minutes each, were given, about
one-third of the time being devoted to drawing, and two-thirds to
writing. As to the method pursued, the main points were, to present but
a single element at a time; to illustrate on the blackboard defects and
excellences in execution; frequent review of the ground passed over,
especially in the _first_ steps of the course; a vigorous exercise of
all the mental faculties requisite for the performance of the task; and
a desire for improvement, encouraged and stimulated by the best and
strongest available motives; the greater part of the time being
bestowed upon the dull and backward pupils.

"The result has exceeded my expectations. About three-fourths of the
number taught can draw most of the simple mathematical lines and
figures, given as copies on the slates used, with tolerable accuracy,
and write all the letters of the alphabet in a fair script hand. This
experiment satisfies me that, with the proper facilities, the three
upper classes in graded primary schools can be taught to write the
letters of the alphabet in a plain script hand, and even to join them
into words, without any material hindrance to the other required
studies; and, moreover, that the great remedy for the complaint of want
of time, in these schools, is the increase of skill in the art of
teaching."

It is well known that in this country and in Europe methods of teaching
the alphabet have been introduced which materially diminish the labor of
teachers, and lessen the drudgery to which children are usually
subjected. The alphabet is taught as an object lesson. The object is
usually an animal, plant, or flower. More frequently the first. The mind
of the child is awakened either by the presence of the animal, or by a
brief but vivid description of its characteristics. The children are
first required to pronounce properly the name of the animal. Here is an
opportunity for training in the use of the voice, and in the art of
breathing, with which the general health, as well as the vocal power, is
intimately connected. The word which is the name of the animal is
analyzed into its elementary sounds. It may then be reconstructed
without the aid of visible signs, either written or printed. Next the
teacher produces the signs which stand for the several sounds, and gives
their names. The letters are presented in any way that suits the
teacher. There may be no better method than to produce them upon the
blackboard, as this course encourages the pupils to draw them upon their
slates, and thus they are at once, and without formal preliminaries,
engaged in writing.

An outline of the animal may be drawn upon the blackboard, which the
pupils will eagerly copy; and though this exercise may not be valuable
in a high degree, as preparation for the systematic study of drawing,
yet it trains the perceptive and reflective faculties in a manner that
is pleasant to the great majority of children. It is also in the power
of the teacher, at any point in the exercises, and with reference both
to variety and usefulness, to give the most apparent facts, which to
children are the most interesting facts, in the natural history of the
animal. This plan contemplates instruction in pronunciation in
connection with exercises in breathing, in the elementary sounds of
words both consonant and vowel, in the names of letters, in writing and
drawing, to all of which may be added something of natural history. It
is of course to be understood that such exercises would be extended over
many lessons, be subject to frequent reviews, and valuable in proportion
to the teacher's ability to interest children. The outline given is
suggestive, merely, and it is not presented as a plan of a model course;
but enough has been done and is doing in this department to warrant
increased attention, and to justify the belief that a degree of progress
will soon be made in teaching the elements that will mark the epoch as a
revolution in educational affairs. It is to be observed that the system
indicated requires a high order of teaching talent. Only thorough
professional culture, or long and careful experience, will meet the
claims of such a course. It is quite plain, however, that no advantage
would arise from keeping pupils in school six hours each day; and that,
regarding only the intellectual advancement of the child during the
elementary course, his presence might be reduced to two hours, or
possibly in some cases to one: provided, always, that he could enjoy,
with his class associates, the undivided attention of the teacher. In
this view of the subject, it would be possible, where the primary
schools are graded, as in portions of the city of Boston, for one
teacher to take charge of two classes or schools, each for an hour in
the forenoon and an hour in the afternoon. This arrangement would apply
only to the younger pupils; yet I am aware that parents and the public
would be solicitous concerning the manner of employing the time that
would remain. In the cities this question is one of magnitude, and there
are strong reasons for declining any proposition to reduce the school
day full one-half, which does hot provide occupation for the children
during the remainder of the time. It is only in connection with such a
proposition that projects for gymnastic training are practicable. When
children are employed six hours in school, it is not easy to find time
for a course of systematic physical education; and physical education,
to be productive of appreciable advantages, must be systematic. When
left to children and youth, or to the care of parents, very little will
be accomplished. Children will participate in the customary sports, and
perform the allotted labors; but in cities these sports and labors are
inadequate even for boys, and in country, as well as city, girls are
often the victims of neglect in this respect. Availing ourselves, then,
of the light shed by recent experience upon the subject of primary
instruction, it seems possible to diminish the length of the school day
with a gain rather than a loss of educational power. This change may be
followed by the establishment, in cities and large towns, of public
gymnasiums, where teachers answering in moral qualifications to the
requisitions of the laws shall be employed, and where each child, for
one, two, or three years, shall receive discreet and careful, but
vigorous physical training. After a few years thus passed in
corresponding and healthful development of the mind and body, the pupil
is prepared for admission to the advanced schools, where he can submit,
with perfect safety, to greater mental requirements even than are now
made. The school, as at present constituted, cannot do much for physical
education; and it must, as a necessity and a duty, graduate its demands
to the physical as well as the intellectual abilities of its pupils. But
I am satisfied that it is occasionally made to bear a weight of reproach
that ought to be laid upon the customs and habits of domestic, social
and general life.

Assuming that the principal work of the primary schools, after moral and
physical culture, should be to give instruction in reading, spelling,
writing, music and drawing, it is just to say that special attention
should be bestowed upon the two branches first named. So imperfectly is
reading sometimes taught, that pupils are found in advanced classes, and
in advanced schools, whose progress in other branches is retarded by
their inability to read the language fluently and intelligently. When
children are well educated in reading, they find profitable employment;
and they are, of course, by the knowledge of language acquired, able to
comprehend, with greater facility, every study to which they are called.

Pupils often appear dull in grammar, geography and arithmetic, merely
because they are poor readers. A child is not qualified to use a
text-book of any science until he is able to read with facility, as we
are accustomed to speak, in groups of words. This ability he cannot
acquire without a great deal of practice. If phonetic spelling is
commenced with the alphabet, he will be accurately trained in that art
also. It is certain that reading, writing and spelling, have been
neglected in our schools generally.

If there is to be a reform, it must be commenced, and in a considerable
degree accomplished, in the primary schools. These studies will be
taught afterwards; but the grammar and high schools can never compensate
for any defect permitted, or any wrong done, in the primary schools.
Reading is first mechanical, and then intellectual and emotional. In the
primary schools attention is first given to mechanical training, while
the intellectual and emotional culture is necessarily in a degree
postponed. When the first part of the work is thoroughly done, there is
no ground for complaint, and we may look to the teachers of advanced
classes and schools for the proper performance of the remaining duty.
The ability to spell arbitrarily, either in writing or orally, and the
ability to read mechanically,--that is, the ability to seize the words
readily, and utter them fluently and accurately,--must be acquired by
much spelling and much reading.

This work belongs to the early years of school-life; and, if it can be
faithfully performed, the introduction of text-books in grammar,
geography and arithmetic, may be wisely postponed. But it is a sad
condition of things, which we are often compelled to contemplate, when a
pupil, who might have become a respectable reader had the elementary
training been careful, accurate and long-continued, is introduced to an
advanced class, and there struggles against obstacles which he cannot
comprehend, and which the teacher cannot remove, and finally leaves the
school without the ability to read in a manner intelligible to himself,
or satisfactory to others. It is the appropriate work of primary
schools, and of the teachers of primary classes in district schools, to
develop and chasten the moral powers of children, to train them in those
habits and practices that are favorable to health and life, whether
anything is known of physiology as a science or not, and to give the
best culture possible to the eye, the ear, the hand and the voice. This
plan is comprehensive enough for any teacher, and it will be found
sufficient for any pupil less than ten years of age. Nor am I speaking
of that culture which is merely preparatory for the life of the artist,
but of that practical training which will enable the subject of it so to
use his powers as to render his life valuable to himself, and valuable
to the world. There will be, in the exercises comprehended by this
outline, sufficient mental discipline. It will, of course, be chiefly
incidental, and it may well be doubted whether studies that are merely
disciplinary should ever be introduced into our schools. There are
useful occupations for pupils that, at the same time, tax and test the
mind sufficiently. The plan indicated does not exclude grammar,
geography and mental arithmetic, but text-books will not at first be
needed. Grammar should be taught by conversation, and in connection with
the exercises in reading. Grammar is the appreciation of the power of
the words of the language in any given relations to each other, and a
knowledge of grammar is essential to the ability to speak, read and
write properly. Therefore, grammatical rules and definitions are, or
should be, deduced from the language. Hence children should be first
trained to speak with accuracy, so that habit shall be on the side of
taste and science; next the offices which words perform in simple
sentences should be illustrated and made clear; And thus far without
text-books; when, finally, with their help, the pupils in the higher
schools may acquire a knowledge of the science, and, at once, as the
result of previous training, discern the reason for each rule and
definition. The study of grammar requires some use of mental power; but
when it is presented to pupils by the aid of an object which, in itself
and in what it does, illustrates the subject and the predicate of a
sentence, the work of comprehending the offices which words perform is
rendered comparatively easy. Having the skeleton thus furnished, and
with the eyes and minds of the pupils fixed upon an object that
possesses known and appreciable powers and qualities, it is not
difficult for the teacher to construct a sentence that shall contain
words of several parts of speech, all understood, because the
grammatical office of each was seen even before the word itself was
used. This work may be commenced when the child is young, and very
satisfactory results ought to be secured as soon as the pupil is in
other respects qualified to enter a grammar school. The pupil should be
trained in reading as an art; that is, with the purpose of expressing
whatever is intellectual and emotional in the text. Satisfactory results
cannot at first be secured by much reading; it seems wiser for the
teacher to select an extract, paragraph, or single sentence only, and
drill a pupil or a class until the meaning of the author is
comprehended, and accurately or even artistically expressed. This can be
done only when the teacher reads the passage again and again in the best
manner possible. The contrary practice of reading volumes of extracts
from the writings of the most gifted men of ancient and modern times,
without preparation by the pupil, without example, explanation,
correction, or questionings, by the teacher, cannot be too strongly
condemned. The time will come when these selections may be read with
profit; but it is better to read something well than to read a great
deal; or there should be at least thorough drill in connection with
every exercise, until the pupils have attained some degree of
perfection. It may not be best to confine advanced pupils to the
exercises in the text-books. If such pupils are invited occasionally to
make selections from their entire range of reading, the teacher will
have an opportunity to correct whatever is vicious in taste; and the
pupil making the selection will be compelled to read in such a manner
that those who listen can understand, which is not always the case when
the language is addressed to the eye as well as to the ear.

The introduction of Colburn's Intellectual Arithmetic was an epoch in
the science. It wrought a radical change in the ability of the people to
apply the power of numbers to the practical business of life. Its
excellence does not consist in rules and illustrations by which examples
and problems are easily solved, but in leading the mind of the pupil
into natural and apparent processes of reasoning, by which he is enabled
to comprehend a proposition as an independent fact. Herein is a mental
discipline of great value, not only in the sciences, but in the daily
affairs of men of all classes and conditions. It is to be feared that
equally satisfactory results have not been attained in what is called
written arithmetic. This partial failure deserves consideration. The
first cause may be found in an erroneous opinion concerning the
difference between mental and written arithmetic. Written arithmetic is
mental arithmetic merely, with a record at given stages of the process
of what at that point is accomplished. But, as written arithmetic tends
to lessen the power of the pupil for the performance of those operations
that are purely mental, he should be subjected, each day, to a searching
and rapid drill in mental arithmetic also. This neglect on the part of
teachers explains the singular fact that pupils, well trained in mental
arithmetic, after attending to written arithmetic for three or six
months, appear to have lost rather than gained in their knowledge of the
science as a whole.

The second cause of failure may be found in the fact that rules,
processes and simple methods of solution, contained in the books, are
substituted for the power of comprehension by the pupil. He should be
trained to seize an example mentally, whether the slate is to be used or
not, and hold it until he can determine by what process the solution is
to be wrought. Nor is it a serious objection that he may not at first
avail himself of the easiest method. The difference between methods or
ways is altogether a subordinate consideration. There may be many ways
of reaching a truth, but no one of them is as important as the truth
itself. The text-books should contain all the facts needed for the
comprehension and the solution of the examples given; the teacher should
furnish explanations and other aids, as they are needed; but the
practice of adopting a process and following it to an apparently
satisfactory conclusion, without comprehending the problem itself, is a
serious educational evil, and it exerts a permanent pernicious
influence.

The remarks I have now made upon methods of teaching, which may seem to
have been offered in a spirit of severe criticism, should be qualified
and relieved by the statement that our teachers are as well educated as
any in the country, and that they are yearly making progress in their
profession. Indeed, I am encouraged to suggest that better things are
possible, by the consideration that many instances of distinguished
success in teaching the alphabet, reading and grammar, are known to me;
and that teachers are themselves aware that the work is, upon the whole,
inadequately performed. If, as is generally conceded, the highest order
of teaching talent is required in the primary schools, then that talent
should be sought out by committees; the persons possessing it should
enjoy the best means of preparation; they should receive the highest
rewards, both in money and public consideration, and they should be
induced to labor, without change or interruption, in the same schools
and the same people.




THE RELATIVE MERITS OF PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOLS AND ENDOWED ACADEMIES.

[Remarks before the American Institute of Instruction, at Manchester, N.
H.]


Indebted to my friend on the other side, and to you, sir, and this
audience, for inviting me to take a position on this floor, I am still
without any special preparation to discuss the subject. I have thought
upon it, because any one, however humbly connected with free schools in
this country, must have done so. And especially just now, when, in the
educational journal of Massachusetts, a discussion has been conducted
between one of its editors and Mr. Gulliver, the able originator of a
school in Norwich, Ct., and the advocate of the system of school
government established there. And, therefore, every one who has had his
eyes open must have seen that here is a great contest, and that
underlying it is a principle which is important to society.

The distinguishing difference between the advocates of endowed schools
and of free schools is this: those who advocate the system of endowed
academies go back in their arguments to one foundation, which is, that
in education of the higher grades the great mass of the people are not
to be trusted. And those who advocate a system of free education in high
schools put the matter where we have put the rights of property and
liberty, where we put the institutions of law and religion--upon the
public judgment. And we will stand there. If the public will not
maintain institutions of learning, then, I say, let institutions of
learning go down. If I belong to a state which cannot be moved from its
extremities to its centre, and from its centre to its extremities, for
the maintenance of a system of public instruction, then, in that
respect, I disown that state; and if there be one state in this Union
whose people cannot be aroused to maintain a system of public
instruction, then they are false to the great leading idea of American
principles, and of civil, political, and religious liberty.

It is easy to enumerate the advantages of a system of public education,
and the evils--I say evils--of endowed academies, whether free or
charging payment for tuition. Endowed academies are not, in all
respects, under all circumstances, and everywhere, to be condemned. In
discussing this subject, it may be well for me to state the view that I
have of the proper position of endowed academies. They have a place in
the educational wants of this age. This is especially true of academies
of the highest rank, which furnish an elevated and extended course of
instruction. To such I make no objection, but I would honor and
encourage them. Yet I regard private schools, which do the work usually
done in public schools, as temporary, their necessity as ephemeral, and
I think that under a proper public sentiment they will soon pass away.
They cannot stand,--such has been the experience in Massachusetts,--they
cannot stand by the side of a good system of public education. Yet where
the population is sparse, where there is not property sufficient to
enable the people to establish a high school, then an endowed school may
properly come in to make up the deficiency, to supply the means of
education to which the public wealth, at the present moment, is unequal.
Endowed institutions very properly, also, give a professional education
to the people. At this moment we cannot look to the public to give that
education which is purely professional. But what we do look to the
public for is this: to furnish the means of education to the children of
the whole people, without any reference to social, pecuniary, political,
or religious distinctions, so that every person may have a preliminary
education sufficient for the ordinary business of life.

It is said that the means of education are better in an endowed
academy, or in an endowed free school, than they can be in a public
school. What is meant by _means_ of education? I understand that, first
and chiefly, as extraneous means of education, we must look to a correct
public sentiment, which shall animate and influence the teacher, which
shall give direction to the school, which shall furnish the necessary
public funds. An endowed free academy can have none of these things
permanently. Take, for example, the free school established at Norwich
by the liberality of thirty or forty gentlemen, who contributed ninety
thousand dollars. What security is there that fifty years hence, when
the educational wants of the people shall be changed, when the
population of Norwich shall be double or treble what it is now, when
science shall make greater demands, when these forty contributors shall
have passed away, this institution will answer the wants of that
generation? According to what we know of the history of this country, it
will be entirely inadequate; and, though none of us may live to see the
prediction fulfilled or falsified, I do not hesitate to say that the
school will ultimately prove a failure, because it is founded in a
mistake.

Then look and see what would have been the state of things if there had
been public spirit invoked to establish a public high school, and if the
means for its support had been raised by taxation of all the people, so
that the system of education would have expanded according to the growth
of the city, and year by year would have accommodated itself to the
public wants and public zeal in the cause. Though these means seem now
to be ample, they will by and by be found too limited. The school at
Norwich is encumbered with regulations; and so every endowed institution
is likely to be, because the right of a man to appropriate his property
to a particular object carries with it, in the principles of common law,
and in the administration of the law, in all free governments, the right
to declare, to a certain extent, how that property shall be applied.
Rules have been established--very proper and judicious rules for to-day.
But who knows that a hundred years hence they will be proper or
acceptable at all? They have also established a board of trustees,
ultimately to be reduced to twenty-five. These trustees have power to
perpetuate themselves. Who does not see that you have severed this
institution from the public sentiment of the city of Norwich, and that
ultimately that city will seek for itself what it needs; and that, a
hundred years hence, it will not consent to live, in the civilization of
that time, under the regulations which forty men have now established,
however wise the regulations may at the present moment be?

One hundred and fifty years ago, Thomas Hollis, of London, made a
bequest to the university at Cambridge, with a provision that on every
Thursday a professor should sit in his chair to answer questions in
polemic theology. All well enough then; but the public sentiment of
to-day will not carry it out.

So it may be with the school at Norwich a hundred years hence. The man
or state that sacrifices the living public judgment to the opinion of a
dead man, or a dead generation, makes a great mistake. We should never
substitute, beyond the power of revisal, the opinion of a past
generation for the opinion of a living generation. I trust to the living
men of to-day as to what is necessary to meet our existing wants, rather
than to the wisest men who lived in Greece or Rome. And, if I would not
trust the wise men of Greece and Rome, I do not know why the people, a
hundred years hence, should trust the wise men of our own time.

And then look further, and see how, under a system of public
instruction, you can build up, from year to year, in the growth of the
child, a system according to his wants. Private instruction cannot do
this. What do we do where we have a correct system? A child goes into a
primary school. He is not to go out when he attains a certain age. He
might as well go out when he is of a certain height; there would be as
much merit in one case as in the other. But he is advanced when he has
made adequate attainments. Who does not see that the child is incited
and encouraged and stimulated by every sentiment to which you should
appeal? And, then, when he has gone up to the grammar school, we say to
him, "You are to go into the high school when you have made certain
attainments." And who is to judge of these attainments? A committee
appointed by the people, over whom the people have some ultimate
control. And in that control they have security for two things: first,
that the committee shall not be suspected of partiality; and secondly,
that they shall not be actually guilty of partiality. In the same
manner, there is security for the proper connection between the high
school and the schools below. But in the school at Norwich--of which I
speak because it is now prominent--you have a board of twenty-five men,
irresponsible to the people. They select a committee of nine; that
committee determines what candidates shall be transferred from the
grammar schools to the high school. May there not be suspicion of
partiality? If a boy or girl is rejected, you look for some social,
political, or religious influence which has caused the rejection, and
the parent and child complain. Here is a great evil; for the real and
apparent justice of the examination and decision by which pupils are
transferred from one school to another is vital to the success of the
system.

There is another advantage in the system of public high schools, which I
imagine the people do not always at first appreciate. It is, that the
private school, with the same teachers, the same apparatus, and the same
means, cannot give the education which may be, and usually is, furnished
in the public schools. This statement may seem to require some
considerable support. We must look at facts as they are. Some people are
poor; I am sorry for them. Some people are rich, and I congratulate them
upon their good fortune. But it is not so much of a benefit, after all,
as many think. It is worth something in this world, no doubt, to be
rich; but what is the result of that condition upon the family first,
the school afterwards, and society finally? It is, that some learn the
lesson of life a little earlier than others; and that lesson is the
lesson of self-reliance, which is worth more than--I will not say a
knowledge of the English language--but worth more than Latin or Greek.
If the great lesson of self-reliance is to be learned, who is more
likely to acquire it early,--the child of the poor, or the child of the
rich; the child who has most done for him, or the child who is under the
necessity of doing most for himself? Plainly, the latter. Now, while a
system of public instruction in itself cannot be magnified in its
beneficial influences to the poor and to the children of the poor, it is
equally beneficial to the rich in the facility it affords for the
instruction of their children. Is it not worth something to the rich
man, who cannot, from the circumstances of the case, teach self-reliance
around the family hearth, to send his child to school to learn this
lesson with other children, that he may be stimulated, that he may be
provoked to exertions which he would not otherwise have made? For, be it
remembered that in our schools public sentiment is as well marked as in
a college, or a town, or a nation; that it moves forward in the same
way. And the great object of a teacher should be to create a public
sentiment in favor of virtue. There should be some pioneers in favor of
forming a correct public sentiment; and when it is formed it moves on
irresistibly. It is like the river made up of drops from the mountain
side, moving on with more and more power, until everything in its waters
is carried to the destined end.

So in a public school. And it is worth much to the man of wealth that
there may be, near his own door, an institution to which he may send his
children, and under the influence of which they may be carried forward.
For, depend upon it, after all we say about schools and institutions of
learning, it is nevertheless true of education, as a statesman has said
of the government, that the people look to the school for too much. It
is not, after all, a great deal that the child gets there; but, if he
only gets the ability to acquire more than he has, the schools
accomplish something. If you give a child a little knowledge of
geography or arithmetic, and have not developed the power to accomplish
something for himself, he comes to but little in the world. But put him
into the school,--the primary, grammar, and high school, where he must
learn for himself,--and he will be fitted for the world of life into
which he is to enter.

You will see in this statement that, with the same parties, the same
means of education, the same teachers, the public schools will
accomplish more than private schools.

I find everywhere, and especially in the able address of Mr. Gulliver,
to which I have referred, that the public schools are treated as of
questionable morality, and it is implied that something would be gained
by removing certain children from the influence of these schools. If I
were speaking from another point of view, very likely I should feel
bound to hold up the evils and defects which actually exist in public
schools; but when I consider them in contrast with endowed and private
schools, I do not hesitate to say that the public schools compare
favorably; and, as the work of education goes on, the comparison will be
more and more to their advantage. Why? I know something of the private
institutions in Massachusetts; and there are boys in them who have left
the public schools because they have fallen in their classes, and the
public interest would not justify their continuance in the schools. It
was always true that private schools did not represent the world exactly
as it was. It is worth everything to a boy or girl, man or woman, to
look the world in the face as it is.

Therefore, the public school, when it represents the world as it is,
represents the facts of life. The private school never has done and
never will do this; and as time goes on, it will be less and less a true
representative of the world. From this point of view, it seems to be a
mistake on the part of parents to exclude their children from the world.
Is it not better that the child should learn something of society, even
of its evils, when under your influence, and when you can control him by
your counsel and example, than to permit him finally to go out, as you
must when his majority comes, perhaps to be seduced in a moment, as it
were, from his allegiance to virtue? Virtue is not exclusion from the
presence of vice; but it is resistance to vice in its presence. And it
is the duty of parents to provide safeguards for the support of their
children against these temptations. When Cicero was called on to defend
Muræna against the slander that, as he had lived in Asia, he had been
guilty of certain crimes, and when the testimony failed to substantiate
the charge, the orator said, "And if Asia does carry with it a suspicion
of luxury, surely it is a praiseworthy thing, not never to have seen
Asia, but to have lived temperately in Asia." And we have yet higher
authority. It is not the glory of Christ, or of Christianity, that its
Divine Author was without temptation, but that, being tempted, he was
without sin. This is the great lesson of the day.

The duty of the public is to provide means for the education of all. To
do that, we need the political, social, and moral power of all, to
sustain teachers and institutions of learning; and, endowed or free
schools, depending upon the contributions of individuals, can never, in
a free country, be raised to the character of a system. If you rob the
public schools of the influence of our public-spirited men, if they take
away a portion of their pupils from them, our system is impaired. It
must stand as a whole, educating the entire people, and looking to all
for support, or it cannot be permanently maintained.




THE HIGH SCHOOL SYSTEM.

[An Address delivered at the Dedication of the Powers Institute,
Bernardston.]


There cannot be a more gratifying spectacle than the universal homage
offered to education and to the young. Childhood is attractive in
itself; and it is peculiarly an object of solicitude for its promises
concerning the future. Hence the labors of philanthropists, reformers,
and Christians, as well as of teachers, are devoted to the culture and
improvement of the rising generation, as the chief security possible for
the prevalence of better ideas in the state and in the world.

Massachusetts has been peculiarly favored in the means of education; and
we ought ever to recognize the divine influence in the wisdom which led
our fathers to lay the foundations of a system that contemplated the
education of the whole people. The power of this great idea, universal
education, has not been limited to Massachusetts; the states of the
West, the states of the South, receive it as the basis of a wise public
policy; and had our ancestors contributed nothing else to the glory of
the republic, they would yet be entitled to the distinguished
consideration of every age and people. The vigor of our culture and the
hardihood of our institutions are more manifest out of Massachusetts
than in it. The immigrant in his new home in the great valley of
prairies, on the northern shores of the American lakes, in Oregon,
California, or the islands of the Pacific, invokes the spirit of New
England in the establishment of a free church and a free school. And in
the spirit and discipline of New England, the thoughts of her sons are
turned homeward in adversity, seeking consolation at the sources of
early, vigorous, and happy life; or, in prosperity, that they may offer,
in gratitude to man and to God, some tribute, always noble, however
humble, to the principles and institutions that first formed their
characters, and then controlled their destiny; or, in old age, the
wanderer, like Jacob in Egypt, with his blessing upon the tribes and
families of men, says, "I am to be gathered unto my people; bury me with
my fathers." This occasion and its honors are due to the memory of him
whose name this institution bears; and his last will and testament is an
illustration, or rather the cause, of these prefatory remarks. As the
reasonably extended and eminently prosperous life of your wise
benefactor approached its close, he, in the principles of Old England
and of New England, ordered and directed the payment of all his just
debts; and then, secondly, expressed the wish, "if practicable, to be
buried by the side of his parents in the cemetery at Bernardston." First
justice, and then affection for parents, kindred, and home, animated the
vital, never-dying soul, as the life of the body ebbed and flowed, and
flowed and ebbed, to flow no more. For every good the ancients imagined
and named a divinity; and there is in every good something divine.

We do not deify the living nor the dead; yet such foundations and
institutions as the Lawrence Scientific School, the Peabody Institute,
the Powers Institute, will bear to a grateful posterity a knowledge of
the virtues of their respective founders, and of the exactness,
rectitude, and wisdom, of the public sentiment which religiously
consecrates the means provided to the ends proposed.

But just eulogy of the dead is the appropriate duty of those who were
the associates and friends of the founder of this school.--It will be my
purpose, in the humble part I take in the services of this honored
occasion, to point out, as I may be able, the connection between
learning and wisdom, and then, by the aid of some general remarks upon
education, to examine the fitness of this foundation, and the rules
here established, to promote human progress and virtue.

The actual available power of a state is in its adult population; but
its hope is in the classes of children and youth whose plastic minds
yield to good influences, and are moulded to higher forms of beauty than
have been conceived by Italian or Grecian art. Excellence is always
adorable and to be adored. If it appear in beauty of person, it commands
our admiration; and how much more ought wisdom, which is the beauty of
the mind and the excellency of the soul, to be cultivated and cherished
by every human being! "For what is there, O, ye gods!" says Cicero,
"more desirable than wisdom? What more excellent and lovely in itself?
What more useful and becoming for a man? Or what more worthy of his
reasonable nature?"

But wisdom cannot be acquired in a day, nor without devotion and toil.
It is the achievement of a life. It is to be pursued carefully through
schools, colleges, and the world,--to be mastered by study, intense
thought, rigid mental discipline, and an extensive acquaintance with the
best authors of ancient and modern times. It is not the child of ease,
indolence, or luxury; and it is well that it is not, The best of human
possessions are cheapened their attainment is no longer difficult. The
wealth of California and Australia has made silver, as an article of
luxury, the rival of gold; and the pearl loses its beauty when the
mountain streams are as fertile as the depths of the sea. Wisdom
comprehends learning, but learning is often found where wisdom is
wanting. Wisdom is not accomplishment in study, or perfection in art, or
supremacy in poetry or eloquence. Learning is essential to wisdom, for
we cannot imagine a wise man who is not also a learned man; and the
extent and soundness of his learning may be a measure of his wisdom.
Wisdom must always have a basis of learning, but learning is not always
a basis of wisdom. Learning is a knowledge of particulars, of details;
wisdom is such a combination of these particulars as enables us to
harmonize our lives with the laws of nature and of God.

Learning is manifested in what we know; wisdom in what we are, based
upon what we know. Philosophy, even, is love for wisdom rather than
wisdom itself. The old philosophers defined wisdom to be "the knowledge
of things, both divine and human, together with the causes on which they
depend;" and in the proverb of Solomon, "The fear of the Lord is the
instruction of wisdom." Purity, truth, and justice, are also of its
foundation. Wise men of the Jewish and Pagan world built on this
foundation, and the Christian can build on none other. Having combined
learning with these essential virtues, a liberal, symmetrical,
comprehensive character may be built up. In the formation of such a
character, industry, powers of observation, strength of will and
intellectual humility, are requisite. The virtue and the glory of
industry cannot be presented too often to the young. I know of no
worldly good or human excellence that can be attained without it; nor is
there any inherited possession of name, or wealth, or position, that can
be preserved in its extent and quality without active, systematic,
judicious labor.

It is not necessary to consider industry as habitual diligence in a
pursuit, manual or intellectual; but rather as a judicious arrangement
of business and recreation, so as always to have time for the necessary
duties of life. Mere diligence is not industry in a good sense; it is
labor in a bad sense. Our time should be systematically appropriated to
our employments, and each measure of time should be equal to the work or
duty appointed for it. Moreover, each work or duty should be
accomplished in its appointed time; and this can be secured only by a
strong will. The power of will admits of education, culture,
improvement, as much as any faculty of the mind or quality of
character. A fickle, planless life cannot accomplish much. System in
our plans, and firmness of will in their execution, will place us beyond
the reach of ordinary disasters; yet how often do young men go through a
course of school studies without a plan, even for the moment, and enter
upon life the slaves of chance, the victims of what they call fortune,
while they might by industry, system and firmness of will, rise superior
to circumstances, and extort a measure of success not unworthy of a
noble ambition!

Idleness is a wasting disease, a consuming fire, a destroying demon; in
youth it is a calamity, in the vigor of manhood it is a disgrace and a
sin, and in old age it can be honorably accepted only as the symbol of
reflective leisure earned by a life of industry and virtue. Industry is
a badge of honor, an introduction everywhere to the true nobility of the
world, the security that each may take of the future for his own
happiness and prosperity in it.

Cardinal, personal virtues shrink and wither, or are blasted and die, in
the company of idleness; and, without firmness of will, the noblest
principles and purest sentiments sometimes wear the livery of vice, and
often they give encouragement to it. Good principles, good purposes,
good ideas, are made fruitful by a strong resolution; while without it
they are like bubbles of water, brilliant in the sun-light, but destined
to collapse by the changing, silent force of the medium in which they
float. And can any life, not positively vicious and criminal, be less
desirable than that of the young man who quietly accepts whatever
condition circumstances assign to him? I speak now of his moral and
intellectual condition rather than of his social position among men. The
latter is not in itself important, and only becomes so through the
exhibition of high qualities of mind and character. Social and political
consideration we cannot demand as a right; but we may acquire knowledge,
develop qualities of character, give evidences of wisdom that entitle us
to the respect of our fellows.

It may be agreeable, but it is not absolutely essential, for us to enjoy
the public confidence, or even the public consideration; though we can
be happy ourselves only when we are conscious of not being totally
unworthy. But no social or political concession or consideration is
acceptable to a noble mind, that is grudgingly yielded or doubtingly
bestowed; and the lustre of great intellects is dimmed when they become
subservient to claims that they despise.

But can we acquire a knowledge of things, either divine or human, unless
we cultivate our powers of observation? Partial or inaccurate
observation, especially of natural things, is a great defect of
character; and in New England, where the aim of educators and of the
public in matters of education is elevated, a remedy for this defect
ought at once to be sought and applied. Our ideas are vague concerning
many subjects of common sight and common observation. Is adult life,
even among the educated classes, equal to a description of the common
animals, trees, fruits and flowers? Who will paint with words the elm or
the oak so that its species will be known while the name is withheld?
The introduction of drawing into the schools will improve the power of
observation among the people, especially if the pupils are required to
make nature their model. And this should always be done. O, how is
education belittled and the mind dwarfed by those teachers who keep
their pupils' thoughts upon signs and definitions, when they ought to
deal continually with the facts, things and life of the world! It is no
fable that a student of the higher mathematics, when his master, a
practical engineer upon the Boston water-works, required his services,
exclaimed, "I had no idea that you had sines and tangents out of doors."
With such,


     "Nothing goes for sense or light
     That will not with old rules jump right;
     As if rules were not in the schools
     Derived from truth, but truth from rules."


And Butler, in his satirical description of Sir Hudibras, ascribes to
his hero more practical philosophy than he appears to have intended, and
more, certainly, than is found in some modern systems of education:


     "In mathematics he was greater
     Than Tycho Brahe or Erra Pater;
     For he, by geometric scale,
     Could take the size of pots of ale;
     Resolve by sines and tangents straight,
     If bread or butter wanted weight;
     And wisely tell what hour o' th' day
     The clock does strike, by algebra."


Another prerequisite of wisdom is intellectual humility, Solomon, says,
"Before honor is humility;" and humility is before wisdom, and even
before learning. We ought not to be ashamed of involuntary ignorance.
Franklin, when asked how he came to know so much, replied, "By never
being ashamed to ask a question."

It is idle for any one to imagine that there is nothing more for him to
learn. Indeed, such a theory is good evidence of defective education and
limited attainments, if not of a defective mental and moral structure.

Naturalists delight and instruct their pupils and auditors with the
wonderful truths folded in the flower, garnered in the plant, or
imprisoned in the rock. Yet how much more there must be of God's wisdom
in the humblest of the beings created in his image! There are
distinctions among men; and out of these distinctions come the truth and
the necessity that each may be both a teacher and a pupil of every
other. No man, however learned he may be, does know or can know all that
is known by his neighbor, though that neighbor be the humblest of
shepherds or of fishermen. We are not independent of each other in
anything. The earnest and faithful disciple of wisdom goes through life
everywhere diffusing knowledge, and everywhere gathering it up. Over the
great gateway of life is the inscription, "None but learners enter
here;" and along its paths and in its groves are tablets, on which is
written, "None but learners sojourn here." He is a poor teacher who is
not a learner, and he is but little of a learner who is not something of
a teacher also. The best teachers are they who are pupils, and the best
pupils are already teachers. Such was the real and avowed character of
the great teachers of antiquity; such is the best practice of modern
continental Europe, and such is the requirement of nature in all ages.
He who does not learn cannot teach. Socrates professed to know only
this, that he knew nothing. Plato was a disciple of Socrates and
Euclid; a pupil in the school of Pythagoras; and, as a traveller, under
the disguise of a merchant and a seller of oil, he visited Egypt, and
thus gained a knowledge of astronomy, and added something to his
learning in other departments. He numbered among his pupils Isocrates,
Lycurgus, Aristotle, and Demosthenes; and for eight years Alexander the
Great was the pupil of Aristotle, while Demosthenes


     "Wielded at will that fierce Democratie,
     Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece
     To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne."


Thus we trace Demosthenes and Alexander, the master spirits in the
struggle of Grecian independence against Macedonian supremacy, through
teachers and culture up to Socrates, the wanderer in the streets, and
the disturber of the peace of Athens.

It is stated that a distinguished modern philosopher often says, "I
don't know," when the curiosity or science of his pupils suggests
questions that he has not considered. If we respect and admire the
wisdom of the wise, how ought we to be humbled, intellectually, by the
reflection that the unknown far exceeds the known, and that all become
as little children when they enter the temple of the sages! The
ancients prized schools, teachers, and learning, because they were
essential to wisdom; and wisdom enabled them to live temperately,
justly, and happily, in the present world; while we prize schools,
teachers, and learning, because they contribute to what we call success
in life. The population of New England, is composed of skilful artisans,
intelligent merchants, shrewd or eloquent lawyers, industrious and
intelligent farmers; and to these results our system of education is too
exclusively subservient. These results are not to be condemned, nor are
the processes by which they are secured to be neglected. But our schools
ought to do something always and for every one, for the full development
of a character that is essential to artisans, merchants, lawyers, or
farmers. Learning should not be prized merely as an aid to the daily
work of life,--though this it properly is and ever ought to be,--but for
its expansive power in the mind and soul, by which we attain to a more
perfect knowledge of things human and divine. There are many persons who
accomplish satisfactorily the tasks assigned them, but who do not always
comprehend the processes of life, in its political, social, literary,
scientific and industrial relations, by which the affairs of the world
are guided.

Something of this is due, speaking of America, and especially of New
England, to the universal desire to be engaged in active business. Young
men destined for the farm or the shop, the counting-house or the store,
leave home and school so early that their apprenticeship is ended long
before their majority commences; and they are thus prepared to enter
early and vigorously upon the business of life. This course has its
advantages, and it is also attended by many evils. Our youth have but
little opportunity for observation, and a great deal of time for
experience. They fall into mistakes that should have been observed, and
consequently shunned. Moreover, this custom tends to make business men
too exclusively and rigidly technical and professional; that is, in
plain language, speaking relatively, they know too much of their own
vocation, and too little of everything else. Business life follows so
closely upon home life and school life, that the lessons of the latter
fail to exert an immediate and controlling influence, and it is often
only in maturer years that the fruits of early training are seen. The
connection is such that the boy or youth becomes a devotee of business
before he is developed into complete manhood. This is movement, but not
true progress; activity, but not culture; appropriation and
accumulation, but not natural development. This peculiarity is less
prominent in England, and it is hardly known in the central states of
Europe. It is to some extent a national, and especially is it a New
England characteristic. It is a manifestation of the forward moving
spirit of our people, and it is also at once a promise and the security
for the ultimate supremacy of the American race and nation in the
affairs of the world. In Athens young men attained their majority when
they were sixteen; but they usually prosecuted their studies afterwards,
and Aristotle thought them unfit for marriage until they were
thirty-seven years of age. This rule was observed by Aristotle in his
own case; but we are unable to say whether the rule was made before or
after his marriage, which is a fact of much importance when we consider
the wisdom of the precept, and the real principles and philosophy of its
famous author. Moreover, regardless of one-half of creation, he has
neither stated the age at which females are marriageable, nor given us
that of his own wife. This neglect justly detracts from his authority;
and it will not be strange if young men and women view with distrust an
opinion that is so manifestly partial and one-sided. If schools make
merely learned people, in a narrow and technical sense, they are not
doing their whole work. Such learning makes an efficient population,
which is certainly desirable; but it ought also to be a well-educated
population in a broad, comprehensive, philosophic sense. By the force of
nature and the developing influences of society, including the church,
the school, and the home, we ought first to be educated men and women,
and then apply that education to the particular work we have in hand. By
learning, in this connection, I do not mean the learning of Agassiz as a
naturalist, the learning of Choate as a lawyer, or the learning of
Everett as an orator; but a more general and less minute culture, by
which men are prepared to form an accurate judgment upon subjects that
usually attract public attention.

In the gardens of the wealthy, we often see peach-trees and pear-trees
trained against brick or stone walls, to which they are attached by
substantial thongs. These trees are carefully and systematically
trained, and they are trained so as to accomplish certain results. They
present a large surface, in proportion to the whole, to the sun and air;
in addition to the direct rays of the sun, they receive the reflected
and accumulated heat of the walls to which they are fastened; and they
furnish ripe fruit much in advance of trees in the gardens and fields of
the common farmers. Here art and nature, in brick walls, manure, the
germinating power of the peach or pear, and rigid training and pruning,
have produced very good machines for the manufacture of fruit; but for
the full-grown, symmetrically developed tree, or even for the choicest
fruit in its season, we must look elsewhere. And who does not perceive,
if all the trees of the gardens, fields, and forests, were treated in
the same way, that the world would be deprived of a part of its beauty
and glory, and that many species of trees would soon become extinct? Who
would not give back the luscious pear and peach to their native
acritude, rather than subject the highest forms of vegetable life to
such irreverence? And, upon reflection, we shall say that such cruelty
to inanimate life can be justified only as we justify the naturalist who
dexterously and suddenly extracts a vital organ from a reptile, that he
may observe the effect upon that form of animal existence.

But the tree is not to be left in its native state. By culture its
growth is so aided, that it is first and always a tree after its own
kind, whether it be peach, pear, apple, elm, or oak; at once ornamental
and graceful, stately or majestic, according to the germinating
principle which diffuses itself through each individual creation. "For
the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the
ear, after that the full corn in the ear." So in the human heart, mind,
and soul, nature bringeth forth fruit of herself; and it is the work of
schools and teachers to aid nature in developing a full and attractive
character, that shall yield fruit while all its powers are enlarged and
strengthened, as the almond in the peach is not only more luscious in
its fruit, but more graceful in its branches. Culture, in a broad sense,
is the aid rendered to each individual creation in its work of
self-improvement. It is not a noble and generous culture which dwarfs
the tree that early ripened or peculiarly flavored fruit may be
obtained; and it is not a noble and generous culture of the child which
forces into unnatural activity certain faculties or powers that surprise
us by their precocity, or excite wonder by the skill exhibited in their
use. Rather let the child grow, expand, mature, according to the law of
its own being, giving it only encouragement and example, which are the
light and air of mental and moral life. I am not conscious that any one
has given us a philosophical, logical system of development, that
relates to the physical, intellectual, and moral character; and to-day I
state the educational want in this particular, but I do not attempt to
supply it. Yet in nature such a system there must be, and only powers of
observation are needed that we may avail ourselves of it. And in stating
this want more particularly, I offer, as my first suggestion, the
opinion, common among educators, that, speaking generally and with
reference to a system, we have no physical training whatever.

In the days of our ancestors, one hundred or two hundred years ago, this
training, as a part of a system of education, was not needed. We had no
cities, and but few large towns. Agriculture and the ruder forms of
mechanical labor were the chief occupations of the people. Populous
cities, narrow streets, dark lanes, cellar habitations, crowded
workshops, over-filled and over-heated factories, and the number of
sedentary pursuits that tax and wear and destroy the physical powers,
and undermine the moral and mental, were unknown. These are the
attendants of our civilization, and they have brought a melancholy train
of evils with them. In the seventeenth century, men perished from
exposure, from ignorance of the laws of health, from the prevalence of
malignant diseases that defied the science of the times; and, as a
consequence, the average length of human life was not greater than it
now is. At present, there is but little exposure that is followed by
fatal results; malignant diseases are deprived of many of their terrors;
rules of living, founded upon scientific principles, are accessible to
all; and yet we daily meet young men and women who are manifestly
unequal to the lot that is before them. In some cases, the sin of the
parent is visited upon the children, and the measure of life meted out
to them is limited and insufficient. In other cases, the individuals,
first yielding in their own persons, are the victims of positive vice,
or of some of the evils stated. Civilization is not an unmixed good; and
we cannot offer to the city or the factory any adequate compensation for
the loss of pure water, pure air, and the healthful exercise of body,
which may be enjoyed in the country villages and agricultural districts
of the state.

Yet even in cities and large towns the culture of home and school should
diminish these evils; and it is a pleasure to believe that our system of
domestic and public education is doing something at the present moment
in behalf of the too much neglected body; but nowhere, either in city or
country, do we observe the evidences of juvenile health and strength
that a friend of the race would desire to see. And it is, I fear,
specially true of schools, and to some extent it is true of teachers, as
a class, that too little attention is given to those exercises and
habits which secure good health. There are many causes which tend to
lower the average health and strength of our people. 1st. The practice
of sending children to school at the tender age of five, four, or even
three years. Every school necessarily imposes some restraint upon the
pupils; and I assume that no child under five years of age should be
subject to such restraints. But the education of the child is not,
therefore, to be neglected. Parents, brothers and sisters, may all do
something for the young inquirer; but he should never have lessons
imposed, nor be subject to the rules of a school of any description. The
moment of his admission must be determined by circumstances, and the
force of the circumstances must be judged of by parents. If a child is
blessed with kind, considerate, intelligent parents, the first eight
years of his life can be spent nowhere else as profitably as at home.
The true mother is the model teacher. No other person can ever acquire
the control over her off-spring that is her own rightful possession.
When she neglects the trust confided to her, she is guilty of a serious
wrong; and when she transfers it to another, she takes upon herself a
greater responsibility than she yields up. The instinctive judgment of
the world cannot be an erroneous judgment. The mother has always, to a
great extent, been made responsible for the child; and the honor of his
virtues or the disgrace of his crimes has been traced through him to
her.

2dly. Some portion of every school-day should be systematically and
strictly devoted to recreation, physical exercise and manual labor; and
the hours given to study ought to be defined and limited. Some persons
say, "Let a child study as much as he will, there is time enough to
play." This may be generally true, but it is not universally so. I
cannot but think that the practice of assigning lessons and giving the
pupil the free use of the four-and-twenty hours is a bad practice. Would
it not be better to give to each pupil certain hours for study?--assign
him lessons, by topics if possible, allow him to do what he can in the
allotted time, and then prohibit the appropriation of an additional
minute? Why should a dull scholar, or one who has but little taste or
talent for a given study, be required to plod twelve, sixteen, or
eighteen hours at unwelcome tasks, while another more favored disposes
of his work in six? Why should a pupil, who is laboring under some
mental or physical debility, be required to apply his mind unceasingly
when he most needs rest and recreation? Why should the pages of a
spelling-book, grammar, geography, or arithmetic, be the measure of each
pupil's capacity? Lessons are to be assigned, not necessarily to be
mastered by the pupil, though they should have just reference to his
capacity, but as the subject of his studies for a given period of time.
The pupil should be responsible for nothing but the proper use of that
time. Two advantages might result from this practice. First, the pupil
would acquire the habit of performing the greatest amount of labor
possible in the given time; and, secondly, he would naturally throw off
all care for books and school when the hour for relaxation arrived. If
particular studies are assigned to specified hours, the pupil must
master his thoughts, and give them the required direction. This in
itself is a great achievement. I put it, in practical value, before any
of the studies that are taught and learned in the schools. The danger to
which pupils are often exposed, in this connection, is quite apparent. A
lesson is assigned for a succeeding day. The attention is not
immediately fixed upon it. One hour passes, and then another. Nothing is
accomplished, yet the pupil is continually oppressed by the
consciousness of duty unperformed, and the result is, that he neither
does what he ought to do, nor does anything else. Would it not be better
to measure and assign his time, and then require him to abandon all
thought of the matter? This practice might give our people the faculty
and the habit of throwing off cares and occupations, when they leave the
scenes of them. It is a just criticism upon American character, that our
business men carry their occupations with them wherever they go. I
should put high up among the elements of worldly success the ability to
give assiduously, studiously and devotedly, the necessary time to a
subject of business, and then to throw off all thought of it. There can
be no peace of mind for the business man who does not possess this
quality; and I think it will contribute essentially to a long life and a
quiet old age. No wise man ever attempts more than one thing at a time;
and the man who attempts to do more than one thing at a time has no
security that he can do anything well. The statements of biography and
history, that Napoleon was accustomed to do several things at once, rest
upon a misconception of the operations of the human mind. His facility
for the direction and transaction of business depended upon the quality
I am now considering. He had the faculty of giving his attention,
undivided and strongly fixed, to a subject for an hour, half-hour,
minute, half-minute, or second, and then of dismissing the matter
altogether, and directing his thoughts, without loss of time, to
whatever next might be presented. One thing at a time is a law which no
finite power can violate; and ability in execution depends upon the
ability to concentrate all the powers of the mind, at a given moment,
upon the assigned topic, and then to change, without friction or loss of
time, to something else.

The institution is a high school, and the question is now agitated,
especially in the State of Connecticut, "How can the advantages of a
high school education be best secured?" This question I propose to
consider. And, first, the high school must be a public school. A _public
school_ I understand to be a school established by the
public,--supported chiefly or entirely by the public, controlled by the
public, and accessible to the public upon terms of equality without
special charge for tuition.

Private schools may be established and controlled by an individual, or
by an association of individuals, who have no corporate rights under the
government, but receive pupils upon terms agreed upon, subject to the
ordinary laws of the land.

Private schools may be founded also by one or more persons, and by them
endowed with funds, for their partial or entire support. In such cases,
the founder, through the money given, has the right to prescribe the
rules by which the school shall be controlled, and also to provide for
the appointment of its managers or trustees through all time. In such
cases, corporate powers are usually granted by the government for the
management of the business. But the chief rights of such an institution
are derived from the founder, and the facilities for their easy exercise
and quiet enjoyment are derived from the state.

Such schools are sometimes, upon a superficial view, supposed to be
public, because they receive pupils upon terms of equality, and no rule
of exclusion exists which does not apply to all. And especially has it
been assumed that a free school thus founded, as the Norwich Free
Academy, which makes no charges for tuition, and is open to all the
inhabitants of the city, is therefore a public school. These
institutions are public in their use, but not in their foundation or
control, and are therefore not public schools. The character of a
school, as of any eleemosynary institution, is derived from the will of
the founder; and when the beneficial founder is an individual, or a
number of individuals less than the whole political organization of
which the individuals are a part, the institution is private, whatever
the rules for its enjoyment may be. To say that a school is a public
school because it receives pupils free of charge for tuition, or because
it receives them upon conditions that are applied alike to all, is to
deny that there are any private schools, for all come within the
definition thus laid down.

Nor is there any good reasoning in the statement that a school is public
because it receives pupils from a large extent of country. Dartmouth
College is a private school, though its pupils come from all the land or
all the world; while the Boston Latin School is a public school; though
it receives those pupils only whose homes are within the limits of the
city. The first is a private school, because it was founded by President
Wheelock, and has been controlled by him and his successors, holding and
governing and enjoying through him, from the first until now; while the
Boston Latin School is a public school, because it was established by
the city of Boston, through the votes of its inhabitants, under the laws
of the state, and is at all times subject, in its government and
existence, to the popular will which created it. When we speak of the
public we do not necessarily mean the world, nor the nation, nor even
the state; but the word _public_, in a legal sense, may stand for any
legal political organization, territorially defined, and intrusted in
any degree with the administration of its own affairs. And the public
character of a particular school, as the Boston Latin School, for
example, may be determined, by a process of reasoning quite independent
of that already presented. The State of Massachusetts, a complete
sovereignty in itself, has provided by her constitution and laws, which
are the expressed judgment of her people, for the establishment of a
system of public schools, through the agency and action of the
respective cities and towns of the commonwealth. These towns and cities,
under the laws, set up the schools; and of course each school partakes
of the public character which the action of the state, followed by the
corporate public action of the city or town, has given to it. Thus it is
seen that our public schools answer to the requirement already stated.
They are established by the public, supported chiefly or entirely by the
public, controlled by the public, and accessible to the public upon
terms of equality, without special charge for tuition. Nor is the public
character of a school changed by the fact that private citizens may have
contributed to its maintenance, if such contributors do not assume to
stand in the relation of founders. It is well understood that the
beneficial founder of a school is he who makes the first gift or bequest
to it, and the legal founder is the government which grants a charter,
or in any way confers upon it a corporate existence. If a town establish
a high school, as in Bernardston to-day, and accept a gift or bequest,
the character of the school is not changed thereby. Mr. Powers did not
attempt to establish a new school. He gave the income of ten thousand
dollars for the aid of schools then existing, and for the aid of a
school whose existence was already contemplated by the laws of the
state. No change has been wrought in your institutions; they are still
public,--your generous testator has only contributed to their support.
And, in considering yet further the question, "How can the advantages
of a high-school education be best secured?" I shall proceed to compare,
with what brevity I can command, the public high school with the free
high school or academy upon a private foundation. My reasoning is
general, and the argument does not apply to all the circumstances of
society. It is not everywhere possible to establish a public high
school. In some cases the population may not be sufficient, in others
there may not be adequate wealth, and in others there may not be an
elevated public sentiment equal to the emergency. In such circumstances,
those who desire education must obtain it in the best manner possible;
and academies, whether free or not, and private schools, whether endowed
or not, should be thankfully accepted and encouraged. Nor will high
schools meet all the wants of society. There must always be a place for
classical schools, scientific schools, professional schools, which, in
their respective courses of study, either anticipate or follow, in the
career of the student, his four years of college life. With these
conditions and limitations stated, the point I seek to establish is that
a public high school can do the work usually done in such institutions
more faithfully, thoroughly, and economically, than it can be done
anywhere else.

1st. The supervision of the public school is more responsible, and
consequently more perfect. In private schools, academies and free high
schools which are endowed, there is a board of trustees, who perpetuate,
as a corporation, their own existence. Each member is elected for life,
and he is not only not responsible to the public, but he is not even
responsible, except in extraordinary cases, to his associates.
Responsibility is, in all governments, the security taken for fidelity.
The election of representatives, in the state or national legislature,
for life, would be esteemed a great and dangerous innovation.

It maybe said that boards of trustees are usually better qualified to
manage a school than the committees elected by the respective cities and
towns. Judged as individuals, this is probably true; though upon this
point I prefer to admit a claim rather than to express an opinion. But
positively incompetent school committees are the exception in
Massachusetts; usually the people make the selection from their best
men. But in the public school you get the immediate, direct supervision
of the public. Not merely in the election of committees, but in a daily
interest and vigilance whose results are freely disclosed to the
superintending committee, as every inhabitant feels that his
contribution, as a tax-payer, gives him the right to judge the character
of the school, and makes it his duty to report its defects to those
charged with its management. The real defects of a school, especially of
a high school, will be first discovered by pupils; and they are likely
to report these defects to their parents. In the case of the endowed
private school, the parent feels that he buys whatever the trustees have
to sell, or takes as a gift whatever they have to offer free; and he
does not, logically nor as a matter of fact, infer from either of these
relations his right to participate in the government of the school. In
one case you have the observation, the judgment, the supervision, of the
whole community; in the other case you have the learning and judgment of
five, seven, ten, or twelve men.

2dly. The faithfulness of the teacher is very much dependent upon the
supervision to which he is subject. This is only saying that the teacher
is human. In the public school there is no motive which can influence a
reasonable man that would lead him to swerve in the least from his
fidelity to the interest of the school as a whole. No partiality to a
particular individual, no desire to promulgate a special idea, can ever
stand in the place of that public support which is best secured by a
just performance of his duties. In the private school, with a
self-perpetuating board of trustees, the temptation is strong to make
the organization subservient to some opinion in politics, religion, or
social life. This may not always be done; but in many cases it has been
done, and there is no reason to expect different things in the future. I
concur, then, unreservedly in the judgment which has placed this
institution, in all its interests and in all its duties, under the
control of the inhabitants of Bernardston. When they who live in its
light and enjoy its benefits cease to respect it, when they to whom it
is specially dedicated cease to love and cherish it, it will no longer
be entitled to the favorable consideration of a more extended public
sentiment. As all trustworthy national patriotism must be built on love
for state, town, and home, so every school ought to esteem its power for
usefulness in its own neighborhood its chief means of good.

It will naturally be inferred, from the remarks made upon the singleness
of purpose and fidelity of the public school to the cause of education,
that the instruction given in it is more thorough than is usually given
in the private school. But, in examining yet further the claim of the
public school to superior thoroughness, I must assume that it enjoys the
advantages of comfortable rooms, adequate apparatus and competent
teachers. And this assumption ought to be supported by the facts. There
is no good reason why any town in Massachusetts should be negligent or
parsimonious in these particulars. True economy requires liberal
appropriations. With these appropriations, the best teachers, even from
private schools and academies, can be secured, and all the aids and
encouragements to liberal culture can be provided. Is it possible that
any of the means of a common-school education are necessarily denied to
a million and a quarter of industrious people, who already possess an
aggregate capital of seven or eight hundred millions of dollars? But the
character of a high school must always depend materially upon the
previous training of the pupils, and the qualifications required for
admission. When the high school is a public school, the studies of the
primary and grammar or district schools are arranged with regard to the
system as a system. There is no inducement to admit a pupil for the sake
of the tuition fees, or for the purpose of adding to the number of
scholars. The applicant is judged by his merits as a scholar; and where
there is a wise public sentiment, the committee will be sustained in the
execution of just rules.

In the public high school we avoid a difficulty that is almost universal
in academies and private schools--the presence of pupils whose
attainments are so various that by a proper classification they would be
assigned to two, if not to three grades, where the graded system
exists. The vigilance, industry and fidelity of teachers, cannot
overcome this evil. The instruction given is inevitably less systematic
and thorough. The character which the high school, whether public or
private, presents, is not its own character merely; it reflects the
qualities and peculiarities of the schools below. It follows, then, that
the attention of the public should be as much directed to the primary
and grammar or district schools as to the high school itself. Of course,
it ought not to be assumed that the existence of a high school will
warrant any abatement of appropriations for the lower grades; indeed,
the interest and resources of these schools ought continually to
increase.

Nor can it be assumed that your contributions to the cause of education
will be diminished by the bequest of your generous testator. He did not
seek to lessen your burdens, but to add to the means of education among
you.

There is also an inherent power of discipline in the public schools,
where they are graded and a system of examinations exists, that is not
found elsewhere. Neither the pupil nor the parent is viewed by the
teacher in the light of a patron; hence, he seeks only to so conduct his
school as to meet the public requirement. Moreover, as admission to a
high school can be secured by merit only, the results of the
preliminary training must have been such as to create a reasonable
presumption in favor of the applicant, mentally and morally. Hence, the
public schools are filled by youth who are there as the reward of
individual, personal merit. Practically, the motive by which the pupils
are animated has much to do with their success. If they are moved by a
love for learning, they attain the object of their desires even without
the aid of teachers; but where they are aided and encouraged by faithful
teachers, the school is soon under the control of a public sentiment
which secures the end in view.

This public sentiment is not as easily built up in a private school;
for, in the nature of things, some pupils will find their way there who
are not true disciples of learning; and such persons are obstacles to
general progress, while they advance but little themselves.

And, gentlemen trustees and citizens of Bernardston, may I not
personally and especially invite you to consider the importance of a
fixed standard of admission and a careful examination of candidates?
This course is essential to the improvement of your district and village
schools. It is essential to the true prosperity of this seminary, and it
is also essential to the intellectual advancement of the people within
your influence. You expect pupils from the neighboring towns. Your
object is not pecuniary profit, but the education of the people. If your
requirements are positive, though it may not be difficult to meet them
in the beginning, every town that depends upon this institution for
better learning than it can furnish at home will be compelled to
maintain schools of a high order. On the other hand, negligence in this
particular will not only degrade the school under your care here, but
the schools in this town and the cause of education in the vicinity will
be unfavorably affected. Nor let the objection that a rigid standard of
qualifications will exclude many pupils, and diminish the attendance
upon the school, have great weight; for you perform but half your duty
when you provide the means of a good education for your own students.
You are also, through the power inherent in this authority, to do
something to elevate the standard of learning in other schools, and in
the country around. What harm if this school be small, while by its
influence other schools are made better, and thus every boy and girl in
the vicinity has richer means of education than could otherwise have
been secured? Thus will tens, and hundreds, and thousands, of successive
generations, have cause to bless this school, though they may never have
sat under its teachers, or been within its walls.

In a system of public schools, everything may be had at its prime cost.
There need be no waste of money, or of the time or power of teachers. As
the public system must everywhere exist, it is a matter of economy to
bring all the children under its influence. The private system never can
educate all; therefore the public system cannot be abandoned, unless we
consent to give up a part of the population to ignorance. It may, then,
be said that the private schools, essential in many cases, ought to give
way whenever the public schools are prepared to do the work; and when
the public schools are so prepared, the existence of private schools
adds their own cost to the necessary cost of popular education.

But we are not to encourage parsimony in education; for parsimony in
this department is not true economy. It is true economy for the state
and for a town to set up and maintain good schools as cheaply as they
can be had, yet at any necessary cost, so only that they be good.
Massachusetts is prosperous and wealthy to-day, respected in evil report
as well as in good, because, faithful to principle and persistent in
courage, she has for more than two hundred years provided for the
education of her children; and now the re-flowing tide of her wealth
from seaboard and cities will bear on its wave to these quiet valleys
and pleasant hill-sides the lovers of agriculture, friends of art,
students of science, and such as worship rural scenes and indulge in
rural sports; but the favored and first-sought spots will be those where
learning has already chosen her seat, and offers to manhood and age the
culture and society which learning only can give, and to childhood and
youth, over and above the training of the best schools, healthful moral
influences, and elements of physical growth and vigor, which ever
distinguish life in the country and among the mountains from life in the
city or on the plain. And over a broader field and upon a larger sphere
shall the benignant influence of this system of public instruction be
felt. In the affairs of this great republic, the power of a state is not
to be measured by the number of its votes in Congress. Public opinion is
mightier than Congress; and they who wield or control that do, in
reality, bear rule. Power in the world, upon a large view, and in the
light of history, has not been confided to the majorities of men.
Greece, unimportant in extent of territory, a peninsula and archipelago
in the sea, led the way in the civilization of the west, and, through
her eloquence, poetry, history and art, became the model of modern
culture. Rome, a single city in Italy, that stretches itself into the
sea as though it would gaze upon three continents, subjugated to her
sway the savage and civilized world, and impressed her arms and
jurisprudence upon all succeeding times; then Venice, without a single
foot of solid land, guarded inviolate the treasure of her sovereignty
for thirteen hundred years against the armies of the East and the West;
while, in our own time, England, unimportant in the extent of her
insular territory, has been able, by the intelligence and enterprise of
her people, to make herself mistress of the seas, arbiter of the
fortunes of Europe, and the ruler of a hundred millions of people in
Asia.

These things have happened in obedience to a law which knows no change.
Power in America is with those who can bring the greatest intellectual
and moral force to bear upon a given point. And Massachusetts, limited
in the extent of her territory, without salubrity of climate, fertility
of soil, or wealth of mines, will have influence, through her people at
home and her people abroad, proportionate to her fidelity to the cause
of universal public education.




NORMAL SCHOOL TRAINING.

[An Address delivered at the Dedication of the State Normal School, at
Salem.]


The human race may be divided into two classes. One has no ideal of a
future different from the present; or, if it is not always satisfied
with this view, it has yet had no clear conception of a higher
existence.

The other class is conscious of the power of progress, is making
continual advances, and has an ideal of a future such as, in its
judgment, the present ought to be. Both of these classes have
institutions; for institutions are not the product of civilization, as
they exist wherever our social nature is developed. Man is also a
dependent being, and he therefore seeks the company, counsel and support
of his fellows. From the right of numbers to act comes the necessity of
agreement, or at least so much concurrence in what is to be done as to
secure the object sought. The will of numbers can only be expressed
through agencies; and these, however simple, are indeed
institutions--the evidence of civilization, rather than its product.
They are always the sign, symbol, or language, by which the living man
expresses the purpose of his life. Therefore, institutions differ, as
the purposes of men vary.

The savage and the man of culture do not seek the same end; hence they
will not employ the same means.

The institutions of the savage are those of the family, clan, or tribe,
to which he belongs. There the child is instructed in the art of dress,
in manners and language, in the rude customs of agriculture, the chase,
and war. This with him is life, and the history of one generation is
often the history of many generations. Their ideal corresponds with
their actual life; and, as a necessary result, there is little or no
progress.

But the other class establishes institutions which indicate the
existence of new relations, and exact the performance of new duties. As
man is a social being, he necessarily creates institutions of government
and education corresponding to the sphere in which he is to act. If a
nation desires to educate only a part of its people, its institutions
are naturally exclusive; but wherever the idea of universal education
has been received, the institutions of the country look to that end.

When Massachusetts was settled there were no truly popular institutions
in the world, for there was really no belief in popular rights. And why
should those be encouraged to think who have no right to act? The
principle that every man is to take a part in the affairs of the
community or state to which he belongs seems to be the foundation of the
doctrine that every man should be educated to think for himself. Free
schools and general education are the natural results of the principles
of human equality, which distinguish the people and political systems of
America.

The purposes of a people are changeable and changing, but institutions
are inflexible; therefore these latter often outlast the ideas in which
they originated, or the ideas may be acting in other bodies or forms.
Institutions are the visible forms of ideas, but they are useful only
while those ideas are living in the minds of men. If an institution is
suffered to remain after the idea has passed away, it embarrasses rather
than aids an advancing people. Such are monastic establishments in
Protestant countries; such is the Church of England, as an institution
of religion and government, to all classes of dissenters; such are many
seminaries of learning in Europe, and some in America.

Massachusetts has had one living idea, from the first,--that general
intelligence is necessary to popular virtue and liberty. This idea she
has expressed in various ways; the end it promises she has sought by
various means. In obedience to this idea, she has established colleges,
common schools, grammar schools, academies, and at last the Normal
School.

The _institution_ only of the Normal School is new; the _idea_ is old.
The Normal system is but a better expression of an idea partially
concealed, but nevertheless to be found in the college, grammar school
and academy of our fathers. Nor have we accepted the institution so
readily from a knowledge of its results in other countries, as from its
manifest fitness to meet a want here. It is not, then, our fortune to
inaugurate a new idea, but only to clothe an old one again, so that it
may more efficiently advance popular liberty, intelligence and virtue.
And this is our duty to-day.

The proprieties of this occasion would have been better observed, had
his excellency, Governor Washburn, found it convenient to deliver the
address, which, at a late moment, has been assigned to me. But we are
all in some degree aware of the nature and extent of his public duties,
and can, therefore, appreciate the necessity which demands relief from
some of them.

Massachusetts has founded four Normal Schools, and at the close of the
present century she may not have established as many more, for she now
satisfies the just demands of every section of her territory, and
presents the benefits of this system of instruction to all her
inhabitants. The building we here set apart, and the school we now
inaugurate to the service of learning, are to be regarded as the
completion of the original plan of the state, and any future extension
will depend upon the success of the Normal system as it shall appear in
other years to other generations of men. But we have great faith that
the Normal system, in itself and in its connections, will realize the
cherished idea of our whole history; and if so, it will be extended
until every school is supplied with a Normal teacher.

This, then, is an occasion of general interest; but to the city of
Salem, and the county of Essex, it is specially important. Similar
institutions have been long established in other parts of the state; but
some compensation is now to be made to you, in the experience and
improvements of the last fifteen years. Intelligent labor sheds light
upon the path of the laborer, and, though the direct benefits of this
system have not been here enjoyed, many resulting advantages from the
experience of similar institutions in other places will now inure to
you.

The city of Salem, with wise forecast, anticipated these advantages, and
generously contributed a sum larger even than that appropriated by the
state itself. This bounty determined the location of the school, but
determined it fortunately for all concerned.

Salem is one of the central points of the state; and in this respect no
other town in the vicinity, however well situated, is a competitor.
Pupils may reside at their homes in Newburyport, Lynn, Lawrence,
Haverhill, Gloucester and Lowell, or at any intermediate place, and
enjoy the benefit of daily instruction within these walls. This is a
great privilege for parents and pupils; and it could not have been so
well secured at any other point. Here, also, pupils and teachers may
avail themselves of the libraries, literary institutions and cabinets of
this ancient and prosperous town. These are no common advantages.

We are wiser and better for the presence of great numbers of books,
though we may never know what they contain. We see how much perseverance
and labor have accomplished, and are sensible that what has been may be
equalled if not excelled. In great libraries, we realize how the works
of the ambitious are neglected, and their names forgotten, while we
cannot fail to be impressed with the value of the truth, that the only
labor which brings a certain reward is that performed under a sense of
duty.

Salem is itself the intelligent and refined centre of an intelligent and
prosperous population; and we may venture so far, in just eulogy, as to
attribute to it the united advantages of city and country, without a
large share of the privations of the one, or the vices of the other. Of
the four Normal Schools, this is, unquestionably, the most fortunate in
its position and surroundings. We, therefore, ask for the concurrence of
the public in the judgment which has established it in this city. If it
shall be the fortune of the government to assemble a body of instructors
qualified for their stations, there will then remain no reason why these
accommodations and advantages should not be fully enjoyed.

The Normal School differs from all other seminaries of learning, and
only because it is an auxiliary to the common schools can it be deemed
their inferior in importance. The academy and college take young men
from the district and high schools, and furnish them with additional
aids for the business of life; but the Normal School is truly the helper
of the common schools. It receives its pupils from them, fits these
pupils for teachers, and sends them back to superintend where a few
months before they were scholars. The Normal Schools are sustained by
the common schools; and these latter, in return, draw their best
nutriment from the former. This institution stands with the common
school; it is as truly popular, as really democratic in a just sense,
and its claim for support rests upon the same foundation.

In Massachusetts we have abandoned the idea, never, I think, general,
that instruction in the art of teaching is unnecessary.

The Normal School is, with us, a necessity; for it furnishes that
tuition which neither the common school, academy, nor college can. These
institutions were once better adapted to this service than now. There
has been a continual increase of academic studies, until it has become
necessary to establish institutions for special purposes; and of these
the Normal School is one. Its object is definite. The _true_ Normal
School instructs only in the art of teaching; and, in this respect, it
must be confessed we have failed, sadly failed, to realize the ideal of
the system. It is not a substitute for the common school, academy, or
college, though many pupils, and in some degree the public, have been
inclined thus to treat it. There should be no instruction in the
departments of learning, high or low, except what is incidental to the
main business of the institution; yet some have gone so far in the wrong
course as to suggest that not only the common branches should be
studied, but that tuition should be given in the languages and the
higher mathematics. A little reflection will satisfy us how great a
departure this would be from the just idea of the Normal School. Yet
circumstances, rather than public sentiment, have compelled the
government to depart in practice, though never in theory, from the true
system.

It so happens that much time is occupied in instruction in those
branches which ought to be thoroughly mastered by the pupil before he
enters the Normal School,--that is, before he begins to acquire the art
of teaching what he has not himself learned.

Such is the state of our schools that we are obliged to accept as pupils
those who are not qualified, in a literary point of view, for the post
of teachers. By sending better teachers into the public schools, you
will effectually aid in the removal of this difficulty. The Normal
School is, then, no substitute for the high school, academy, or college.
Nor do we ask for any sympathy or aid which properly belongs to those
institutions. He is no friend of education, in its proper signification,
who patronizes some one institution, and neglects all others. We have no
seminaries of learning which can be considered useless, and he only is a
true friend who aids and encourages any and all as he has opportunity.
What is popularly known as learning is to be acquired in the common
school, high school, academy and college, as heretofore. The Normal
School does not profess to give instruction in reading and arithmetic,
but to teach the art of teaching reading and arithmetic. So of all the
elementary branches. But, as the art of teaching a subject cannot be
acquired without at the same time acquiring a better knowledge of the
subject itself, the pupil will always leave the Normal School better
grounded than ever before in the elements and principles of learning. It
is not, however, to be expected that complete success will be realized
here more than elsewhere; yet it is well to elevate the standard of
admission, from time to time, so that a larger part of the exercises may
be devoted to the main purpose of the institution. The struggle should
be perpetual and in the right direction. First, elevate your common
schools so that the education there may be a sufficient basis for a
course of training here. If the Normal School and the public schools
shall each and all do their duty, candidates for admission will be so
well qualified in the branches required, that the art of teaching will
be the only art taught here. When this is the case, the time of
attendance will be diminished, and a much larger number of persons may
be annually qualified for the station of teachers.

Next, let the committees and others interested in education make
special efforts to fill the chairs of your hall with young women of
promise, who are likely to devote themselves to the profession. It is,
however, impossible for human wisdom to guard against one fate that
happens to all, or nearly all, the young women who are graduated at our
Normal Schools. But this remark is not made publicly, lest some anxious
ones avail themselves of your bounty as a means to an end not
contemplated by the state.

The house you have erected is not so much dedicated to the school as to
the public; the institution here set up is not so much for the benefit
of the young women who may become pupils, as for the benefit of the
public which they represent. The appeal is, therefore, to the public to
furnish such pupils, in number and character, that this institution may
soon and successfully enter upon the work for which it is properly
designed.

But the character and value of this school depend on the quality of its
teachers more than on all things else. They should be thoroughly
instructed, not only in the branches taught, but in the art of teaching
them.

The teacher ought to have attained much that the pupil is yet to learn;
if he has not, he cannot utter words of encouragement, nor estimate the
chances of success. It is not enough to know what is contained in the
text-book; the pupil should know that, at least; the teacher should know
a great deal more. A person is not qualified for the office of teacher
when he has mastered a book; and has, in fact, no right to instruct
others until he has mastered the subject.

Text-books help us a little on the road of learning; but, by and by,
whatever our pursuit or profession, we leave them behind, or else
content ourselves with a subordinate position. Practical men have made
book-farmers the subject of ridicule; and there is some propriety in
this; for he is not a master in his profession who has not got, as a
general thing, out of and beyond the books which treat of it.

Books are necessary in the school-room; but the good teacher has little
use for them in his own hands, or as aids in his own proper work. He
should be instructed in his subject, aside from and above the arbitrary
rules of authors; and he will be, if he is himself inspired with a love
of learning. _Inspired with a love of learning!_ Whoever is, is sure of
success; and whoever is not, has the best possible security for the
failure of his plans. There cannot be a good school where the love of
learning in teacher and pupil is wanting; and there cannot be a bad one
where this spirit has control. As the master, so is the disciple; as the
teacher, so is the pupil; for the spirit of the teacher will be
communicated to the scholars. There must also be habits of industry and
system in study. We have multitudes of scholars who study occasionally,
and study hard; but we need a race of students who will devote
themselves habitually, and with love, to literature and science.

On the teachers, then, is the chief responsibility, whether the young
women who go out from this institution are well qualified for their
profession or not. The study of technicalities is drudgery of the worst
sort to the mere pupil; but the scholar looks upon it as a preparation
for a wide and noble exercise of his intellectual powers--as a key to
unlock the mysteries of learning. It is the business of the teacher to
lighten the labors of to-day by bright visions of to-morrow.

There is a school in medicine, whose chief claim is, that it invites and
prepares Nature to act in the removal of disease.

We pass no judgment upon this claim; but he is, no doubt, the best
teacher who does little for his pupils, while he incites and encourages
them to do much for themselves. Extensive knowledge will enable the
teacher to do this.

He is a poor instructor of mathematics who sees only the dry details of
rules, tables and problems, and never ascends to the contemplation of
those supreme wonders of the universe which mathematical astronomy has
laid open. The grammar of a language is defined to be the art of reading
and writing that language with propriety. The study of its elements is
dry and uninteresting; and, while the teacher dwells with care upon the
merits of the text, he should also lift the veil from that which is
hidden, and lead his pupils to appreciate those riches of learning which
the knowledge of a language may confer upon the student.

It is useful to know the division of the globe into continents and
oceans, islands and lakes, mountains and rivers--and this knowledge the
text-books contain; but it is a higher learning to understand the effect
of this division upon climate, soil and natural productions--upon the
character and pursuits of the human race. Books are so improved that
they may very well take the place of poor, or even ordinary teachers.

Explanations and illustrations are numerous and appropriate, and very
little remains for the mere text-book teacher to do. But, when the
duties of teacher and the exercises of the school-room are properly
performed, the entire range of science, business, literature and art, is
presented to the student. May it be your fortune to see education thus
elevated here, and then will the same spirit be infused into the public
schools of the vicinity.

The Massachusetts system of education is a noble tribute to freedom of
thought. The power of educating a people, which is, in fine, the chief
power in a state, has been often, if not usually, perverted to the
support of favored opinions in religion and government. The boasted
system of Prussia is only a prop and ally of the existing order of
things. In France, Napoleon makes the press, which has become in
civilized countries an educator of the people, the mere instrument of
his will. Tyrants do not hesitate to pervert schools and the press,
learning and literature, to the support of tyranny. But with us the
press and the school are free; and this freedom, denied through fear in
other countries, is the best evidence of the stability of our
institutions. It is now a hundred years since an attempt was made in
Massachusetts to exercise legal censorship over the press; but we
occasionally hear of movements to make the public schools of America
subservient to sect or party. The success of these movements would be as
great a calamity as can ever befall a free people. Ignorance would take
the place of learning, and slavery would usurp the domain of liberty.

No defence, excuse, or palliation, can be offered for such movements;
and their triumph will safely produce all the evils which it is possible
for an enlightened people to endure. Our system of instruction is what
it professes to be,--a public system. As sects or parties, we have no
claim whatever upon it. A man is not taxed because he is of a particular
faith in religion, or party in politics; he is not taxed because he is
the father of a family, or excused because he is not; but he contributes
to the cause of education because he is a citizen, and has an interest
in that general intelligence which decides questions of faith and
practice as they arise. It is for the interest of all that all shall be
educated for the various pursuits and duties of the time. The education
of children is, no doubt, first in individual duty. It is the duty of
the parent, the duty of the friend; but, above all, it is the duty of
the public. This duty arises from the relations of men in every
civilized state; but in a popular government it becomes a necessity. The
people are the source of power--the sovereign. And is it more important
in a monarchy than in a republic that the ruler be intelligent,
virtuous, and in all respects qualified for his duties?

The institution here set up is an essential part of our system of public
instruction, and, as such, it claims the public favor, sympathy and
support.

This is a period of excitement in all the affairs and relations of men,
and America is fast becoming the central point of these activities. They
are, no doubt, associated with many blessings, but they may also be
attended by great evils. We claim for our country preëminence in
education. This may be just, but it is also true that Americans, more
than any other people, need to be better educated than they are. Where
else is the field of statesmanship so large, or the necessity for able
statesmen so great?

With the single exception of Great Britain, there is no nation whose
relations are such as to require a union in rulers of the rarest
practical abilities with accurate, sound and varied learning; and there
is no nation whose people are so critical in the tests they apply to
their public agents. We need men thoroughly educated in all the
departments of learning; to which ought to be added, travel in foreign
countries, and an intimate acquaintance with every part of our own. Such
men we have had--such men we have now; but they will be more and more
important as we advance in numbers, territory and power. A corresponding
culture is necessary in theology, in law, and in all the pursuits of
industry.

No other nation has so great a destiny. That destiny is manifest, and
may be read in the heart and purpose of the people. They seek new
territories, an increase of population, the prosperity of commerce, of
all the arts of industry, and preëminence in virtue, learning and
intellectual power. And all this they can attain; for the destiny of a
people, within the limits prescribed by reason, is determined by
themselves. If, however, by conquest, annexation and absorption, we
acquire new territories, and strange races and nations of men, and yet
neglect education, every step will but increase our burdens and perils,
and hasten our decay.




FEMALE EDUCATION.

[An Address before the Newburyport Female High School.]


I accepted, without a moment's delay, the invitation of the principal of
this school to deliver the customary address on this, the fifteenth
anniversary of its establishment. My presence here in connection with
public instruction is not a proper subject for comment by myself; but I
have now come, allow me to say, with unusual alacrity, that we may
together recognize the claims of an institution which furnishes the
earliest evidence existing among us of a special design on the part of
the public to provide adequate intellectual and moral training for the
young women of the state.

Those movements which have accomplished most for religion, liberty, and
learning, have not been sudden in their origin nor rapid in their
progress. Christianity has been preached eighteen hundred years, yet it
is not now received, even intellectually, by the larger part of the
human race. Magna Charta is six centuries old, but its principles are
not accepted by all the nations of Europe and America; and it is not,
therefore, strange that a system of public instruction, originated by
the Puritans of New England, should yet be struggling against prejudice
and error. In Asia woman is degraded, and in Europe her common condition
is that of apparent and absolute inferiority. When America was settled
she became a participator in the struggles and sufferings which awaited
the pioneers of civilization and liberty on this continent, and she thus
earned a place in family, religious, and even in public life, which
foreshowed her certain and speedy disenthrallment from the tyranny of
tradition and time. Her rights with us are secure, and the anxiety and
boisterous alarm exhibited by some strong-minded women, and the
horror-fringed apprehensions and prophecies of some weak-minded men, are
equally unreasonable and absurd. Woman is sharing the lot of humanity,
and therewith she ought to be content. Man does not remove the burden of
ignorance and oppression from his sex, merely, but generally from his
kind. At least, this is the experience and promise of America. If woman
does not vote because she is woman, so and for the same reason she is
not subject to personal taxation. It is an error to suppose that voting
is a privilege, and taxation, ever and always, a burden. Both are
duties; and the privilege of the one and the burden of the other are
only incidental and subordinate. The human family is an aggregation of
families; and the family, not the man nor the woman, is the unit of the
state. The civil law assumes the existence of the family relation, and
its unity where it exists; hence taxation of the woman brings no revenue
to the state that might not have been secured by the taxation of the
man; and hence the exercise of the elective franchise by the woman
brings no additional political power; for, in the theory of the relation
to which there are, in fact, but few exceptions, there is in the
household but one political idea, and but one agent is needed for its
expression. The ballot is the judgment of the family; not of the man,
merely, nor of the woman, nor yet, indeed, always of both, even. The
first smile that the father receives from the child affects every
subsequent vote in municipal concerns, and likely enough also in
national affairs. From that moment forward, he judges constables,
selectmen, magistrates, aldermen, mayors, school-committees, and
councillors, with an altered judgment. The result of the election is not
the victory or defeat of the man alone; it is the triumph or prostration
of a principle or purpose with which the family is identified.

Is it said that there is occasionally, if not frequently, a divided
judgment in the household upon those questions that are decided by the
ballot? This must, of course, be granted as an exceptional condition of
domestic life; but, for the wisest reasons of public policy, whose
avoidance by the state would be treachery to humanity, the law universal
can recognize only the general condition of things. So, and for kindred
but not equally strong reasons, the elective franchise is exercised by
men without families, and denied to those women who by the dispensations
of Divine Providence are called to preside in homes where the father's
face is seen no more. But why, in the eye of the state, shall the man
stand as the head of the family, rather than the woman? Because God has
so ordained it; and no civil community has ever yet escaped from the
force of His decree in this respect. Those whose physical power defends
the nation, or tribe, or family, are naturally called upon to decide
what the means of defence shall be. Is not woman, then, the equal of
man? We cannot say of woman, with reference to man, that she is his
superior, or his inferior, or his equal; nor can we say of man, with
reference to woman, that he is her superior, or her inferior, or her
equal. He is her protector, she is his helpmeet. His strength is
sufficient for her weakness, and her power is the support of his
irresolution and want of faith. Woman's rights are not man's rights; nor
are man's rights the measure of woman's rights. If she should assert
her independence, as some idiosyncratic persons desire, she could only
declare her intention to do all those acts and things which woman may of
right do. Given that this is accomplished, and I know not that she would
possess one additional domestic, political, or public right, or enjoy
one privilege in the family, neighborhood, or state, to which she is
not, in some degree, at least, already accustomed.

These views and reflections may serve to illustrate and enforce the
leading position of this address--that we are to educate young women for
the enjoyments and duties of the sphere in which they are to move. We
speak to-day of public instruction; but it should ever be borne in mind
that the education of the schools is but a part, and often only the
least important part, of the training that the young receive. There is
the training of infancy and early childhood, the daily culture of home,
with its refining or deadening influences, and then the education of the
street, the parlor, the festive gathering, and the clubs, which exert a
power over the youth of both sexes that cannot often be controlled
entirely by the school.

Womanhood is sometimes sacrificed in childhood, when the mother and the
family fail to develop the womanly qualities of modesty, grace,
generosity of character, and geniality of temper, which dignify, adorn,
and protect,


     "The sex whose presence civilizes ours."


The child, whether girl or boy, reflects the character of its home; and
therefore we are compelled to deal with all the homes of the district or
town, and are required often to counteract the influences they exert.
Early vicious training is quite as disastrous to the girl as to the boy;
for, strange as it may seem, the world more readily tolerates ignorance,
coarseness, rudeness, immodesty, and all their answering vices, in man
than in woman. In the period of life from eight to twenty years of age
the progress of woman is, to us of sterner mould, inconceivably rapid;
but from twenty to forty the advantages of education are upon the other
side. It then follows that a defective system of education is more
pernicious to woman than to man.

We may contemplate woman in four relations with their answering
responsibilities--as pupil, teacher, companion, and mother. As a pupil,
she is sensitive, conscientious, quick, ambitious, and possesses in a
marvellous degree, as compared with the other sex, the power of
intuition. The boy is logical, or he is nothing; but logic is not
necessary for the girl. Not that she is illogical; but she usually sees
through, without observing the steps in the process which a boy must
discern before he can comprehend the subject presented to his mind. In
the use of the eye, the ear, the voice, and in the appropriation of
whatever may be commanded without the highest exercise of the reasoning
and reflective faculties, she is incomparably superior. She accepts
moral truth without waiting for a demonstration, and she obeys the law
founded upon it without being its slave. She instinctively prefers good
manners to faulty habits; and, in the requirements of family, social,
and fashionable life, she is better educated at sixteen than her brother
is at twenty. She is an adept in one only of the vices of the
school--whispering--and in that she excels. But she does not so readily
resort to the great vice--the crime of falsehood--as do her companions
of the other sex. I call falsehood the great vice, because, if this were
unknown, tardiness, truancy, obscenity, and profanity, could not thrive.
Holmes has well said that "sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle
that will fit them all."

In many primary and district schools the habits and manners of children
are too much neglected. We associate good habits and good manners with
good morals; and, though we are deceived again and again, and
soliloquize upon the maxim that "all is not gold that glitters," we
instinctively believe, however often we are betrayed. Habits and manners
are the first evidence of character; and so much of weight do we attach
to such evidence, that we give credit and confidence to those whom in
our calmer moments we know to be unworthy. The first aim in the school
should be to build up a character that shall be truthfully indicated by
purity and refinement of manner and conversation. It does, indeed,
sometimes happen that purity of character is not associated with
refinement of manners. This misfortune is traceable to a defective early
education, both in the school and the home; for, had either been
faithful and intelligent, the evil would have been averted. And, as
there are many homes in city and country where refinement of manners is
not found, and, of course, cannot be taught, the schools must furnish
the training. In this connection, the value of the high school for
females--whether exclusively so or not, does not seem to me
important--is clearly seen. Young women are naturally and properly the
teachers of primary, district, and subordinate schools of every grade;
and society as naturally and properly looks to them to educate, by
example as well as by precept, all the children of the state in good
habits, good manners, and good morals. We are also permitted to look
forward to the higher relations of life, when, as wives and mothers,
they are to exert a potent influence over existing and future
generations. The law and the lexicons say "_home_ is the house or the
place where one resides." This definition may answer for the law and the
lexicons, but it does not meet the wants of common life.

The wife will usually find in her husband less refinement of manners
than she herself possesses; and it is her great privilege, if not her
solemn duty, to illustrate the line of Cowper, and show that she is of


     "The sex whose presence civilizes ours."


It is the duty of the teacher to make the school attractive; and what
the teacher should do for the school the wife should do for the home.
The home should be preferred by the husband and children to all other
places. Much depends upon themselves; they have no right to claim all of
the wife and mother. But, without her aid, they can do but little. With
her aid, every desirable result may be accomplished. That this result
may be secured, female education must be generous, critical, and pure,
in everything that relates to manners, habits, and morals. Much may be
added to these, but nothing can serve in their stead. We should add, no
doubt, thorough elementary training in reading, writing, and spelling,
both for her own good and for the service of her children. Intellectual
training is defective where these elements are neglected, and their
importance to the sexes may be equal. We should not omit music and the
culture of the voice. The tones of the voice indicate the tone of the
mind; but the temper itself may finally yield to a graceful and gentle
form of expression. It is not probable that we shall ever give due
attention to the cultivation of the human voice for speaking, reading,
and singing. This is an invaluable accomplishment in man. Many of us
have listened to New England's most distinguished living orator, and
felt that well-known lines from the English poets derived new power, if
not actual inspiration, from the classic tones in which the words were
uttered.

A cultivated voice in woman is at once the evidence and the means of
moral power. As the moral sensibilities of the girl are more acute than
those of the boy, so the moral power of the woman is greater than that
of the man. Many young women are educating themselves for the business
of teaching; and I can commend nothing more important, after the proper
ordering of one's own life, than the discreet and careful training of
the voice. It is itself a power. It demands sympathy before the
suffering or its cause is revealed by articulate speech; its tones awe
assemblies, and command silence before the speaker announces his views;
and the rebellious and disorderly, whether in the school, around the
rostrum, or on the field, bow in submission beneath the authority of its
majestic cadences. It is hardly possible to imagine a good school, and
very rare to see one, where this power is wanting in the teacher. Women
are often called to take charge of schools where there are lads and
youth destitute of that culture which would lead them to yield respect
and consequent obedience. Physical force in these cases is not usually
to be thought of; but nature has vouchsafed to woman such a degree of
moral power, of which in the school the voice is the best expression, as
often to fully compensate for her weakness in other respects.

It is unnecessary to commend reading as an art and an accomplishment;
but good readers are so rare among us, that we cannot too strongly urge
teachers to qualify themselves for the great work. I say _great work_,
because everything else is comparatively easy to the teacher, and
comparatively unimportant to the pupil. Grammar is merely an element of
reading. It should be introduced as soon as the child's reasoning
faculties are in any degree developed, and presented by the living
voice, without the aid of books. The alphabet should be taught in
connection with exercises for strengthening and modulating the voice,
and the elementary sounds of the letters should be deemed as important
as their names. All this is the proper work of the female teacher; and,
when she is ignorant or neglects her duty, the evil is usually so great
as to admit of no complete remedy.

Reading is at once an imitative and an appreciative art on the part of
the pupil. He must be trained to appreciate the meaning of the writer;
but he will depend upon the teacher at first, and, indeed, for a long
time, for an example of the true mode of expression. This the teacher
must be ready to give. It is not enough that she can correct faults of
pronunciation, censure inarticulate utterances, and condemn gruff,
nasal, and guttural sounds; but she must be able to present, in
reasonable purity, all the opposite qualities. The young women have not
yet done their duty to the cause of education in these respects; nor is
there everywhere a public sentiment that will even now allow the duty to
be performed.

It is difficult to see why the child of five, and the youth of fifteen,
should be kept an equal number of hours at school. Each pupil should
spend as much time in the school-room as is needed for the preparation
of the exercise and the exercise itself. The danger from excessive
confinement and labor is with young pupils. Those in grammar and high
schools may often use additional hours for study; but a pupil should be
somewhat advanced, and should possess considerable physical strength and
endurance, before he ventures to give more than six hours a day to
severe intellectual labor. It must often happen that children in primary
schools can learn in two hours each day all that the teacher has time to
communicate, or they have power to receive and appropriate. Indeed, I
think this is usually so. It may not, however, be safe to deduce from
this fact the opinion that children should never be kept longer in
school than two hours a day; but it seems proper to assume that, if
blessed with good homes, they may be relieved from the tedium of
confinement in the school-room, when there is no longer opportunity for
improvement.

We are beginning to realize the advantages of well-educated female
teachers in primary schools; nor do I deem it improbable that they shall
become successful teachers and managers of schools of higher grade,
according to the present public estimation. But, in regard to the latter
position, I have neither hope, desire, nor anxiety. Whenever the public
judge them, generally, or in particular cases, qualified to take charge
of high schools and normal schools, those positions will be assigned to
them; and, till that degree of public confidence is accorded, it is
useless to make assertions or indulge in conjectures concerning the
ability of women for such duties. It is my own conviction that a higher
order of teaching talent is required in the primary school, or for the
early, judicious education of children, than is required in any other
institutions of learning. Nor can it be shown that equal ability for
government is not essential. There must be different manifestations of
ability in the primary and the high school; but, where proper training
has been enjoyed, pupils in the latter ought to be far advanced in the
acquisition of the cardinal virtue of self-control, whose existence in
the school and the state renders government comparatively unnecessary.

Where there is a human being, there are the opportunity and the duty of
education. But our present great concern, as friends of learning, is
with those schools where children are first trained in the elements. If
in these we can have faithful, accurate, systematic, comprehensive
teaching, everything else desirable will be added thereunto. But, if we
are negligent, unphilosophical, and false, the reasonable public
expectation will never be realized in regard to other institutions of
learning.

The work must be done by women, and by well-educated women; and, when it
is said that in Massachusetts alone we need the services of six
thousand such persons, the magnitude of the work of providing teachers
may be appreciated. Have we not enough in this field for every female
school and academy, where high schools are not required, or cannot
exist, and for every high school and normal school in the commonwealth?
If it is asserted that the supply of female teachers is already greater
than the demand, it must be stated, in reply, that there are persons
enough engaged in teaching, but that the number of competent teachers
is, and ever has been, too small. It is something, my friends, it is
often a great deal, to send into a town a well-qualified female teacher.
She is not only a blessing to those who are under her tuition, but her
example and influence are often such as to change the local sentiment
concerning teachers and schools. When may we expect a supply of such
persons? The hope is not a delusion, though its realization may be many
years postponed. How are competent persons to be selected and qualified?
The change will be gradual, and it is to be made in the public opinion
as well as in the character of teachers and schools. And is it not
possible, even in view of all that has been accomplished, that we are
yet groping in a dark passage, with only the hope that it leads to an
outward-opening door, where, in marvellous but genial light we shall
perceive new truths concerning the philosophy of the human mind, and
the means of its development? At this moment we are compelled to admit
that practical teachers and theorists in educational matters are alike
uncertain in regard to the true method of teaching the alphabet, and
divided and subdivided in opinion concerning the order of succession of
the various studies in the primary and grammar schools. Perfect
agreement on these points is not probable; it may not be desirable. I am
satisfied that no greater contribution can be made to the cause of
learning than a presentation of these topics and their elucidation, so
that the teacher shall feel that what he does is philosophical, and
therefore wise.

The only way to achieve success is to apply faithfully the means at
hand. Generations of children cannot wait for perfection in methods of
teaching; but teachers of primary schools ought not to neglect any
opportunity which promises aid to them as individuals, or progress in
the profession that they have chosen. As teachers improve, so do
schools; and, as schools improve, so do teachers. The influence exerted
by teachers is first beneficial to pupils, but, as a result, we soon
have a class of better qualified teachers. With these ideas of the
importance of the teacher's vocation to primary instruction, and,
consequently, to all good learning, it is not strange that I place a
high value upon professional training. A degree of professional training
more or less desirable is, no doubt, furnished, by every school; but the
admission does not in any manner detract from the force of the statement
that a young man or woman well qualified in the branches to be taught,
yet without experience, may be strengthened and prepared for the work of
teaching, by devoting six, twelve, or eighteen months, under competent
instructors, in company with a hundred other persons having a similar
object in view, to the study, examination, and discussion, of those
subjects and topics which are sometimes connected with, and sometimes
independent of, the text-books, but which are of daily value to the
teacher.

At present only a portion of this necessary professional training can be
given in the normal schools. If, however, as I trust may sometimes be
the case, none should be admitted but those who are already qualified in
the branches to be taught, the time of attendance might be diminished,
and the number of graduates proportionately increased. There are about
one hundred high schools in the state, and, within the sphere of their
labors, they are not equalled by any institutions that the world has
seen. Young men are fitted for the colleges, for mechanical,
manufacturing, commercial, agricultural, and scientific labors, and
young men and young women are prepared for the general duties of life.
They are also furnishing a large number of well-qualified teachers. Some
may say that with these results we ought to be content. Regarding only
the past, they are entirely satisfactory; but, animated with reasonable
hopes concerning the future, we claim something more and better. It is
not disguised that the members of normal schools, when admitted, do not
sustain an average rank in scholarship with graduates of high schools.
This is a misfortune from which relief is sought. It is a suggestion,
diffidently made, yet with considerable confidence in its practicability
and value, that graduates of high schools will often obtain additional
and necessary preparation by attending a normal school, if for the term
of six months only. And I am satisfied, beyond all reasonable doubt,
that, when the normal schools receive only those whose education is
equivalent to that now given in the high schools, a body of teachers
will be sent out who will surpass the graduates of any other
institution, and whose average professional attainments and practical
excellence will meet the highest reasonable public expectation. Nor is
it claimed that this result will be due to anything known or practised
in normal schools that may not be known and practised elsewhere; but it
is rather attributable to the fact that in these institutions the
attention of teachers and pupils is directed almost exclusively to the
work of teaching, and the means of preparation. The studies, thoughts,
and discussions, are devoted to this end. If, with such opportunities,
there should be no progress, we should be led to doubt all our previous
knowledge of human character, and of the development of the youthful
mind.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, before I conclude, allow me to remove, or
at least to lessen, an impression that these remarks are calculated to
produce. I have assumed that teaching is a profession--an arduous
profession--and that perfection has not yet been attained. I have
assumed, also, that there are many persons engaged in teaching,
especially in the primary and mixed district schools, whose
qualifications are not as great as they ought to be. But let it not be
thence inferred that I am dissatisfied with our teachers and schools.
There has been continual progress in education, and a large share of
this progress is due to teachers; but the time has not yet come when we
can wisely fold our arms, and accept the allurements of undisturbed
repose.

Nor have I sought, on this occasion, to present even an outline of a
system of female education. In all the public institutions of learning
among us, it should be as comprehensive, as minute, as exact, as that
furnished for youth of the other sex. Nor is it necessary to concern
ourselves about the effect of this liberal culture upon the character
and fortunes of society. I do not anticipate any sudden or disastrous
effects. The right of education is a common right; and it is
unquestionably the right of woman to assert her rights; and it is a
wrong and sin if we withhold any, even the least. Having faith in
humanity, and faith in God, let us not shrink from the privilege we
enjoy of offering to all, without reference to sex or condition, the
benefits of a public and liberal system of education, which seeks, in an
alliance with virtue and religion, whose banns are forbidden by none, to
enlighten the ignorant, restrain and reform the depraved, and penetrate
all society with good learning and civilization, so that the highest
idea of a well-ordered state shall be realized in an advanced and
advancing condition of individual and family life.




THE INFLUENCE, DUTIES, AND REWARDS, OF TEACHERS.

[A Lecture delivered at Teachers' Institutes.]


It is the purpose, and we believe that it will be the destiny, of
Massachusetts, to build up a comparatively perfect system of public
instruction. To this antiquity did not aspire; and it is the just boast
of modern times, and especially of the American States, that learning is
not the amusement of a few only, whom wealth and taste have led into its
paths, but that it is encouraged by governments, and cherished by the
whole people. Antiquity had its schools and teachers; but the latter
were, for the most part, founders of sects in politics, morals,
philosophy, religion, or the habits of daily life; while its schools
were frequented and sustained by those who sought to build on the
civilization of the times such structures as their tastes conceived or
their opinions dictated.

There were not in Athens or Rome, according to the American idea, any
schools for the people; and Carlyle, Brownson, and Emerson, are such
teachers in kind, though not in power and influence, as were Socrates,
Plato, and Aristotle. These men were leaders as well as teachers, and
their followers were disciples and controversialists rather than pupils.
But it is not possible for modern leaders in politics, philosophy, and
social life, to rival the ancients. Manual labor is not more divided and
subdivided than is the influence of the human intellect. The newspaper
has inspired every man with the love of self-judgment, and the common
school has qualified him, in some degree, for its exercise. The
ancients, whose names and fame have come down to us, taught by
conversations, discussions, and lectures; the moderns, as Carlyle,
Brownson, and Emerson, by lectures, essays, and reviews. But these
systems are quite inadequate to meet the wants of American civilization.

Indeed, however men of talent may strive, there cannot be another
Socrates, Plato, or Aristotle; for the printing-press has come, and
their occupation has gone. Teachers were philosophers, pupils were
followers and disciples, while learning was devoted to the support of
speculations and theories.

But, while we have no such teachers as those of Athens, and need no such
schools as they founded, we have teachers and schools whose character
and genius correspond to the age in which we live. Teaching is a
profession; not merely an ignoble pursuit, nor a toy of scholastic
ambition, but a profession enjoying the public confidence, requiring
great talents, demanding great industry, and securing, permit me to say,
great rewards. To be the leader of a sect or the founder of a school, is
something; but the acceptable teacher is superior to either; he is the
first and chief exponent of a popular sovereignty which seeks happiness
and immortality for itself by elevating and refining the parts of which
it is composed. The ancient teacher gathered his hearers, disciples, and
pupils, in the streets, groves, and public squares. The modern teacher
is comparatively secluded; but let him not hence infer that he is
without influence. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, had their triumphs;
but none more distinguished than that of a Massachusetts teacher, who,
at the age of fourscore years, on a festive day, received from his
former pupils--and among them were the most eminent of the land--sincere
and affectionate assurances of esteem and gratitude. The pupil may be
estranged from the master in opinion, for our system does not concern
itself with opinions, political or religious; but the faithful teacher
will always find the evidence of his fidelity in the lives of those
intrusted to his care. No position is more important than the teacher's;
and his influence is next to that of the parent. It is his high and
noble province to touch the youthful mind, test its quality, and develop
its characteristics. He often stands in the place of the parent. He aids
in giving character to the generations of men; which is at once a higher
art and a purer glory than distinguishes those who build the walls of
cities, or lay the foundations of empires. The cities which contested
for the honor of being the birthplace of Homer are forgotten, or
remembered only because they contested for the honor, while Homer
himself is immortal. If, then, the mere birth of a human being is an
honor to a city, how illustrious the distinction of those who guide the
footsteps of youth along the rugged paths of learning, and develop in a
generation the principles of integrity and mercy, justice and freedom,
government and humanity! If in a lifetime of toil the teacher shall
bring out of the mass of common minds one Franklin, or Howard, or
Channing, or Bowditch, he will have accomplished more than is secured by
the devotees of wealth, or the disciples of pleasure. As the man is more
important than the mere philosopher, so is the modern teacher more
elevated than the ancient.

The true teacher takes hold of the practical and elementary, as
distinguished from the learning whose chief or sole value is in display.
Present gratification is desirable, especially to parents and teachers;
but it may be secured at the cost of solid learning and real progress.
This is a serious error among us, and it will not readily be abandoned;
but it is the duty of teachers, and of all parents who are friends to
genuine learning, to aid in its removal. We are inclined to treat the
period of school-life as though it covered the entire time that ought
properly to be devoted to education. The first result--a result followed
by pernicious consequences--is that the teacher is expected to give
instruction in every branch that the pupil, as child, youth, or adult,
may need to know. It is impossible that instruction so varied should
always be good. Learning is knowledge of subjects based and built upon a
thorough acquaintance with their elements. The path of duty, therefore,
should lead the teacher to make his instruction thorough in a few
branches, rather than attempt to extend it over a great variety of
subjects. This, to the teacher who is employed in a district or town but
three or six months, is a hard course, and many may not be inclined to
pursue it. Something, no doubt, must be yielded to parents; but they,
too, should be educated to a true view of their children's interests. As
the world is, a well-spoken declamation is more gratifying to parents,
and more creditable to teachers, than the most careful training in the
vowel-sounds; yet the latter is infinitely more valuable to the scholar.
Neither progress in the languages nor knowledge of mathematics can
compensate for the want of a thorough etymological discipline. This
training should be primary in point of time, as well as elementary in
character; and a classical education is no adequate compensation.

Elements are all-important to the teacher and the student. It is not
possible to have an idea of a square without some idea of a straight
line, nor to express with pencil or words the arc of a circle without a
previous conception of the curve. Combination follows in course. We are
driven to it. Our own minds, all nature, all civilization, tend to the
combination of elements.

We think fast, live fast, learn fast, and, as the fashion of the world
requires a knowledge of many things, we crowd the entire education of
our children into the short period of school-life. Here, and just here,
public sentiment ought to relieve the teacher by reforming itself.

It should be understood that school-life is to be devoted to the
thorough discipline of the mind to study, and to an acquaintance with
those simple, elementary branches, which are the foundation of all good
learning. When a knowledge of the elements is secured, then the
languages, mathematics, and all science, may be pursued with enthusiasm
and success by a class of men well educated in every department. Public
sentiment must allow the teacher to give careful instruction in reading
and spelling, for example, in the most comprehensive meaning of those
terms--in the sound and power of letters, in the composition and use of
words, and in the natural construction of sentences. This, of course,
includes a knowledge of grammar, not as a dry, philological study, but
as a science; not as composed of arbitrary rules, merely, but as the
common and best judgment of men concerning the use and power of
language, of which rules and definitions are but an imperfect
expression.

Nor do we herein assign the teacher to neglect or obscurity. He, as well
as others, must have faith in the future. His reward may be distant, but
it is certain.

It is, however, likely that the labors of a faithful elementary teacher
will be appreciated immediately, and upon the scene of his toil. But, if
they are not, his pupils, advancing in age and increasing in knowledge,
will remember with gratitude and in words the self-sacrificing labors of
their master.

We are not so constituted as to labor without motive. With some the
motive is high, with others it is low and grovelling. The teacher must
be himself elevated, or he cannot elevate others. The pupil may,
indeed, advance to a higher sphere than that occupied by the teacher;
but it is only because he draws from a higher fountain elsewhere. In
such cases the success of the pupil is not the success of the master. He
who labors as a teacher for mere money, or for temporary fame, which is
even less valuable, cannot choose a calling more ignoble, nor can he
ever rise to a higher; for his sordid motives bring all pursuits to the
low level of his own nature.

Yet it is not to be assumed that the teacher, more than the clergyman,
is to labor without pecuniary compensation; for, while money should not
be the sole object of any man's life, it is, under the influence of our
civilization, essential to the happiness of us all. Wealth, properly
acquired and properly used, may become a means of self-education. It
purchases relief from the harassing toil of uninterrupted manual labor.
It is the only introduction we can have to the thoroughfares of travel
by which we are made acquainted personally with the globe that we
inhabit. It brings to our firesides books, paintings, and statuary, by
which we learn something of the world as it is and as it was. It gives
us the telescope and the microscope, by whose agency we are able to
appreciate, even though but imperfectly, the immensity of creation on
the one hand, and its infinity on the other. The teacher is not to
labour without money, nor to despise it more than other men; and the
public might as well expect the free services of the minister, lawyer,
physician, or farmer, as to expect the gratuitous or cheap education of
their children. While the teacher is educating others, he must also
educate himself. This he cannot do without both leisure and money. The
advice of Iago is, therefore, good advice for teachers: "Go, make money.
* * Put money enough in your purse." The teacher's motives should be
above mere gain; though this view of the subject does not, as some might
infer, lead to the conclusion that he ought to labor for inadequate
compensation.

When George III. was first insane, Dr. Willis was called to the
immediate personal charge of the king. Dr. Willis had been educated to
the church, and a living had been assigned him; but, becoming interested
in the subject of insanity, he had established an asylum, and gained a
distinguished position in his new profession. The suffering monarch was
sadly puzzled to know why Dr. Willis was with him, and how he had been
brought there. The custodian was not very definite in his explanations,
but suggested that he came to comfort the king in his afflictions; and,
said he, "You know that our Saviour went about doing good."--"Yes,"
said the king, "but he never received seven hundred pounds a year for
it." This was good wit, especially good royal wit, because unexpected.
But there is no reason why actual monarchs of England, or coming
monarchs of America, should be treated or taught gratuitously. The
compensation, the living of the teacher, is one thing; the motive may
and ought to be quite different. The teacher should labor in his
profession because he loves it, because he does good in it, and because
he can in that sphere answer a high purpose of existence. These being
the motives of the teacher, he should educate, draw out, corresponding
ones in his pupils.

The teacher is not to create--he is to draw out. Every child has the
germs of many, and, it may be, quite different qualities of character.
Look at the infant. It is so constituted that it may have a stalwart
arm, broad chest, and well-rounded, vigorous muscles; but yet it may
come to adult age destitute of these physical excellences. Yet you will
not say that the elements did not exist in the child. They were there;
but, being neglected, they followed a law of our nature, that the
development of a faculty depends upon its exercise. Nature will develop
some quality in every man; for our existence demands the exercise of a
part of our faculties. The faculty used will be developed in excess as
compared with other faculties. It is the business of the teacher to aid
nature. For the most part, he must stimulate, encourage, draw out,
develop, though it may happen that he will be required occasionally to
check a tendency which threatens to absorb or overshadow all the others.
He must, at any rate, prevent the growth of those powers which tend
towards the savage state.

While the teacher creates nothing, he must so draw out the qualities of
the child that it may attain to perfect manhood. He moulds, he renders
symmetrical, the physical, the intellectual, the moral man. Nature
sometimes does this herself, as though she would occasionally furnish a
model man for our imitation, as she has given lines, and forms, and
colors, which all artists of all ages shall copy, but cannot equal. But,
do the best we can, education is more or less artificial; and hence the
child of the school will suffer by comparison with the child of nature,
when she presents him in her best forms.

In a summer ramble I met a man so dignified as to attract the notice and
command the respect of all who knew him. I was with him upon the lakes
and mountains several days and nights, and never for a moment did the
manliness of his character desert him. I have seen no other person who
could boast such physical beauty. Accustomed to a hunter's life;
carrying often a pack of thirty or forty or fifty pounds; sleeping upon
the ground or a bed of boughs; able, if necessity of interest demanded,
to travel in the woods the ordinary distance which a good horse would
pass over upon our roads; with every organ of the arm, the leg, the
trunk, fully expressed; with a manly, kind, intelligent countenance, a
beard uncut, in the vigor of early manhood, he seemed a model which the
statuaries of Greece and Rome desired to see, but did not. He had at
once the bearing of a soldier and the characteristics of a gentleman. He
was ignorant of grammatical rules and definitions, yet his conversation
would have been accepted in good circles of New England society. This
man had his faults, but they were not grievous faults, nor did they in
any manner affect the qualities of which I have spoken.

This is what nature sometimes does; this is what we should always strive
to do, extending this symmetry, if possible, to the moral as well as to
the intellectual and physical organization. This man is ignorant of
science, of books, of the world of letters, and the world of art, yet we
respect him. Why? Because nature has chosen to illustrate in him her own
principles, power and beauty.

That we may draw out the qualities of the human mind as they exist, we
must first appreciate our influence upon childhood and youth. Our own
experience is the best evidence of what that influence is. All along our
lives the lessons of childhood return to us. The hills and valleys, the
lakes, rivers, and rivulets, of our early home, come not in clearer
visions before us than do the exhortations to industry, the incentives
to progress, the lessons of learning, and the principles of truth,
uttered and offered by the teachers of early years. In the same way the
lines of the poet, the reflections of the philosopher, the calm truths
of the historian, read once and often carelessly, and for many years
forgotten, return as voices of inspiration, and are evermore with us.

That the teacher may have influence, his ear must be open to the voice
of truth, and his mouth must be liberal with words of consolation,
encouragement, and advice. He rules in a little world, and the scales of
justice must be balanced evenly in his hands. He should go in and out
before his scholars free from partiality or prejudice; indifferent to
the voice of envy or detraction; shunning evil and emulous of good;
patient of inquiries in the hours of duty; filled with the spirit of
industry in his moments of leisure; gathering up and spreading before
his pupils the choicest gems of literature, art, and science, that they
may be early and truly inspired with the love of learning.

The public school is a little world, and the teacher rules therein. It
contains the rich and the poor, the virtuous and the corrupt, the
studious and the indifferent, the timid and the brave, the fearful and
the hearts elate with hope and courage. Life is there no cheat; it wears
no mask, it assumes no unnatural positions, but presents itself as it
is. Deformed and repulsive in some of its features, yet to him whose eye
is as quick to discover its beauty as its deformity, its harmony as its
discord, there is always a bright spot on which he may gaze, and a fond
hope to which he may cling. Artificial life, whether in the select
school or the select party, tends to weaken our faith in humanity; and a
want of faith in our race is an omen of ill-success in life. Teachers
should have faith in humanity, and should labor constantly to inspire
others with the belief that the true law of our nature is the law of
progress.

Those who come early in life to the conclusion that the many cannot be
moved by the higher sentiments and ideas which control a few favored
mortals, cease to labor for the advancement of the race. They
consequently lose their hold upon society, and society neglects them.
For such men there can be no success.

Others, like Jefferson and Channing, never lose confidence in their
species, and their species never lose confidence in them. When the
teacher comes to believe that the world is worse than it was, and never
can be better, he need wait for no other evidence that his days of
usefulness are over.

The school-room will teach the child, even as the prison will instruct
maturity and age, that few persons are vicious in the extreme, and that
no one lives without some ennobling traits of character and life. The
teacher's faith is the measure of the teacher's usefulness. It is to him
what conception is to the artist; and, if the sculptor can see the image
of grace and beauty in the fresh-quarried marble, so must the teacher
see the full form of the coming man in the trembling child or awkward
youth.

The teacher ought not to grow old. To be sure, time will lay its hand on
him, as it does on others; but he should always cultivate in himself the
feelings, sentiments, and even ambitions of youth. Far enough removed
from his pupils in age and position to stimulate them by his example,
and encourage them by his precepts, he should yet be so near them that
he can appreciate the steps and struggles which mark their progress in
the path of learning. There must be some points of contact, something
common to teacher and pupils. Indeed, for us all it is true that age
loses nothing of its dignity or respect when it accepts the sentiments
and sports of youth and childhood. But above all should the teacher
remember the common remark of La Place, in his Celestial Mechanics, and
the observation of Dr. Bowditch upon it. "Whenever I meet in La Place
with the words, 'Thus it plainly appears,' I am sure that hours, and
perhaps days, of hard study, will alone enable me to discover _how_ it
plainly appears." The good teacher will seek first to estimate each
scholar's capacity, and then adapt his instructions accordingly. Though
he may be far removed from his pupils in attainments, he should be able
to mark the steps by which ordinary minds pass from common principles to
their noblest application.

This observation may by some be deemed unnecessary; but there are living
teachers who, having mastered the noblest sciences, are unable to
appreciate and lead ordinary minds.

The teacher must be in earnest. This is the price of success in every
profession. The law, it is said, is a jealous mistress, and permits no
rivals; the indifferent, careless minister is but a blind leader of the
blind, and the "undevout astronomer is mad."

Sincerity of soul and earnestness of purpose will achieve success.
According to an eminent authority, there are three kinds of great men:
those who are born great, those who achieve greatness, and those who
have greatness thrust upon them. If we take greatness of birth to be in
greatness of soul and intellect, and not in the mere accident of
ancestry, it is such only who have greatness thrust upon them; for the
world, after all, rarely makes a mistake in this respect. But there is a
larger and a nobler class, whose greatness, whatever it is, must be
achieved; and to this class I address myself.

Success is practicable. There need be no failures. A man of reflection
will soon find whether he can succeed in his pursuit; if not, he has
mistaken his calling, or neglected the proper means of success. In
either case, a remedy is at hand. If a teacher is indifferent to his
calling, and cannot bring himself to pursue it with ardor, it is a duty
to himself, to his profession, to his pupils, to abandon it at once. It
is idle to suppose that we are doing good in a work to which we are not
attracted by our sympathies, and in which we are not sustained by our
faith and hopes. The men who succeed are the men who believe that they
can succeed. The men who fail are those to whom success would have been
a surprise. There is no doubt some appropriate pursuit in life for every
man of ordinary talents; but no one can tell whether he has found it for
himself until he has made a vigorous and persistent application of his
powers. If the teacher fail to do this, he need not seek for success in
another profession, when he has already declined to pay its price.

The choice of a profession is one of the great acts of life. It should
not be done hastily, nor without a careful examination and just
appreciation of the elements of character. A competent teacher may aid
his pupils in this respect. A mistake in occupation is a calamity to the
individual, and an injury to the public. Our school-rooms contain
artists, farmers, mathematicians, mechanics, poets, lawyers, statesmen,
orators, and warriors; but some one must do for them what Shakspeare
says the monarch of the hive has done for all his subjects--assigned
them


                           "Officers of sorts;
     Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
     Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
     Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
     Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;
     Which pillage, they with merry march bring home
     To the tent-royal of their emperor;
     Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
     The singing masons, building roofs of gold;
     The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
     The poor mechanic porters crowding in
     Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
     The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
     Delivering o'er to executors pale
     The lazy, yawning drone."


Teachers are so situated that they may give wholesome advice; while
parents--and I say it with respect--are quite likely, under the
influence of an instinctive belief that their children are fitted for
any place within the range of human labor or human ambition, to make
fatal mistakes. While all pursuits and professions, if honest, are
equally honorable, the individual selection must be determined by taste,
circumstances, individual habits, and often by physical facts. It is not
for one person to do everything, but it is for each person to do at
least one thing well. As a general rule, the painter, who has spent his
youth and manhood in studying the canvas, had better not study the
stars; and the artist, who has power to bring the form of life from the
cold marble, has no right to solve problems in geometry, weigh planets,
or calculate eclipses. The proper choice of the business of life may do
much to perfect our social system, and it will certainly advance our
material prosperity. There is everywhere in our civilization mutual
dependence, and there must be mutual support. In no other way can we
advance to our destiny as becomes an enlightened people.

But all of life and education, either to pupil, teacher, or man, is not
to be found in the school-room. The common period of school-life is
sufficient only for elementary education. The average school-going
period is ten years. Of this, one-half is spent in vacations and
absences, so that each child has about five years of school-life. Only
one-fourth of each day is spent in the school-room; and the continuous
attendance, therefore, is about fifteen months, equal to the time which
most of us give to sleep, every four or five years of our existence.
This view leads me to say again that it is the duty of the teacher in
this brief period to lay a good foundation for subsequent scientific and
classical culture. More than this cannot be accomplished; and, where
this is accomplished, and a taste for learning is formed, and the means
to be employed are comprehended, a satisfactory school-life has been
passed.

Education--universal education--is a necessity; and, as there is no
royal road to learning, so there is no aristocracy of mental power
depending upon social or pecuniary distinctions. The New England
colonies, and Massachusetts first of all, established the system of
education now called universal or public. It was not then easy to
comprehend the principle which lies at the foundation of a system of
public instruction. We are first to consider that a system of public
instruction implies a system of universal taxation. The only rule on
which taxes can be levied justly is that the object sought is of public
necessity, or manifest public convenience. It quite often happens that
men of our own generation are insensible or indifferent to the true
relation of the citizen to the cause of education. Some seem to imagine
that their interest in schools, and of course their moral obligation to
support them, ceases with the education of their own children. This is a
great error. The public has no right to levy a tax for the education of
any particular child, or family of children; but its right of taxation
commences when the education or plan of education is universal, and
ceases whenever the plan is limited, or the operations of the system are
circumscribed.

No man can be taxed properly because he has children of his own to
educate; this may be a reason with some for cheerful payment, but it has
in itself no element of a just principle. When, however, the people
decide that education is a matter of public concern, then taxation for
its promotion rests upon the same foundation as the most important
departments of a government. Yet, many generations of men came and
passed away before the doctrine was received that, as a public matter, a
man is equally interested in the education of his neighbor's children
as in the education of his own. As parents, we have a special interest
in our children; as citizens, it is this, that they may be honest,
industrious, and effective in their labors. This interest we have in all
children.

The safety of our persons and property demands their honesty; our right
to be exempt from pauper and criminal taxes requires habits of universal
industry; and our part in the general wealth and prosperity is increased
by the intelligent application of manual labor in all the walks of life.

A man may, indeed, be proud of the attainments of his family, as men are
often proud of their ancestry; yet they possess little real value as a
family possession. The pride of ancestry has no value; it


               "Is like a circle in the water,
     Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
     Till, by broad-spreading, it disperse to naught."


I pass from this digression to the statement that the chief means of
self-improvement are five: Observation, Conversation, Reading, Memory,
and Reflection.

It is an art to observe well--to go through the world with our eyes
open--to see what is before us. All men do not see alike, nor see the
same things. Our powers of observation take on the hues of daily life.
The artist, in a strange city or foreign land, observes only the
specimens of taste and beauty or their opposites; the mechanic studies
anew the principles of his science as applied to the purposes of life;
the architect transfers to his own mind the images of churches,
cathedrals, temples, and palaces; while the philanthropist rejoices in
cellars and lanes, that he may know how poverty and misery change the
face and heart of man.

An American artist, following the lead of Mr. Jefferson, has beautifully
illustrated the nature of the power of observation. We do not see even
the faces of our common friends alike. The stranger observes a family
likeness which is invisible to the familiar acquaintance. The former
sees only the few points of agreement, and decides upon them; while the
latter has observed and studied the more numerous points of difference,
until he is blind to all others. Hence a portrait may appear true to a
stranger, which, to an intimate acquaintance, is barren in expression,
and destitute of character. Therefore, the artist wisely and properly
esteemed himself successful when his work was approved by the wife or
the mother. The world around us is full of knowledge. We should so
behold it as to be instructed by all that is. The distant star paints
its image on our eye with a ray of light sent forth thousands of years
ago; yet its lesson is not of itself, but of the universe and its
mysteries, and of the Creator out of whose divine hand all things have
come.

Conversation is at once an art, an accomplishment, and a science. It
leads to valuable practical results. It has a place, and by no means an
inferior place, in the schools. Facts stated, questions proposed, or
theories illustrated, in conversation, are permanently impressed upon
the mind. It is in the power of the teacher to communicate much
information in this way, and it is in the power of us all to make
conversation a means of improvement.

But, when the pupil leaves the school, _reading_, so systematic and
thorough as to be called study, is, no doubt, the best culture he can
enjoy. In the first place, books are accessible to all, and they may be
had at all times. They can be used in moments of leisure, in solitude,
in the hours when sleep is too proud to wait on us, and when friends are
absent or indifferent to our lot. Conversation may be patronizing, or it
may leave us a debtor; when the book-seller's bill is settled, we have
no account with the author.

If I am permitted to speak to all, pupils as well as teachers, I am
inclined to say, "Do not consider your education finished when you leave
home and the school." Your labors of a practical sort ought then to
commence. With system and care, you may read works of literature and
history, or devote yourself to mathematics in the higher departments of
science. As a general thing, however, it is not wise to attempt too much
at once. The custom of the schools is to require each pupil to attend to
several branches at the same time; but this course cannot be recommended
to adult persons with disciplined minds. It seems better to select one
subject, and make it the leading topic, for a time, of our studies and
thoughts. It may also be proper to suggest that works of fiction,
poetry, and romance, ought not to be read until the mind is well
disciplined, and a good foundation of solid learning is laid. Such works
tend to make one's style of thought and writing easy, flowing, and
agreeable; but they are also calculated to make us dissatisfied with the
more substantial labors of intellectual life. Having obtained the
elements of learning, one thing is absolutely essential--system in
study. I fancy that there are two prevalent errors among us. First, that
men often attain intellectual eminence without study; and, secondly,
that exclusive devotion to books is the price of success. Whoever
neglects study, whatever his natural abilities, will find himself
distanced by inferior men; and, on the other hand, whoever will devote
three hours each day to the systematic improvement of his mind will
finally be numbered among the leading persons of the age. But, while we
observe, converse, and read, the power of memory and the habit of
reflection should be cultivated. The habit of reflection is a great aid
to the memory, and together they enable us to use the knowledge we daily
acquire.

No previous age of the world has offered so great encouragement, whether
in fame or money, to men of science and literature, as the present.
Formerly, authors flourished under the patronage of princes, or withered
by their neglect; but now they are encouraged and paid by the people,
and reap where they have sown, whether kings will or not. The poverty of
authors was once proverbial; but now the only authors who are poor are
poor authors. Good learning, integrity, and ability, are well
compensated in all the professions. Some one remarked to Mr. Webster,
"That the profession of the law was crowded."--"Yes," said he, "rather
crowded below, but there is plenty of room above." Littleness and
mediocrity always seek the paths worn by superior men; and the truly
illustrious in literature and science are few in number compared with
those who attempt to tread in the footsteps of their illustrious
predecessors; but none of these things ought to deter young men of
ability, industry, and integrity, from boldly entering the lists,
without fear of failure. The world is usually just, and it will
ultimately award the tokens of its approbation to those who deserve
success.

And there is a happy peculiarity in talent,--the variety is so great
that the competition is small. Of all the living authors, are there two
so alike that they can be considered competitors or rivals? The nation
has applauded and set the seal of its approbation upon the eloquence of
Henry, Otis, Adams, Ames, Pinckney, Wirt, Calhoun, Clay, and Webster,
not because these men resembled one another, but because each had
peculiarities and excellences of his own. The same variety of excellence
is seen in living orators, and in all the eloquence and learning of
antiquity which time has spared and history has transmitted to us. It is
said that when Aristides wrote the sentence of his own banishment for a
humble and unknown enemy, the only reason given by the peasant was that
he was "tired with hearing him called the Just." And the world sometimes
appears to be restive under the influence of men of talent; but that
influence, whether always agreeable or not, is both permanent and
beneficial.

Not only does each generation respect its own leading minds, but it is
submissive to the learning and intellect of other days. The influence of
ancient Greece still remains. We copy her architecture, borrow from her
philosophy, admire her poetry, and bow with humility before the remnants
of her majestic literature. So the policy of Rome is perceptible in the
civilization of every European country, and it is a potent element in
the laws and jurisprudence of America. The eloquence of Demosthenes has
been impressed upon every succeeding generation of civilized men; the
genius of Hannibal has stimulated the ambition of warriors from his own
time to that of Napoleon; while Shakspeare's power has been the wonder
of all modern authors and readers. It is a great representative fact in
mental philosophy, which we cannot too much contemplate, that
Demosthenes and Cicero not only enchained the thousands of Greece and
Rome in whose presence they stood, but that their eloquence has had a
controlling influence over myriads to whom the language in which they
spoke was unknown. The words that the houseless Homer sung in the
streets of Smyrna have commanded the admiration of all later times; and
even the mud walls around Plato's garden, on which are preserved the
fragments of statuary with which the garden was once adorned, attract
and instruct the wanderers and students about Athens.

But let us not deceive ourselves with the idea that we can illustrate
anew the greatness which has distinguished a few men only in all the
long centuries of the world's existence. Be not imitators nor followers
of other men's glory. There is a path for each one, and his duty lies
therein. Yet the leading men of the world are lights which ought not to
be hid from the young, for they serve to show the extent of the field in
which human powers may be employed. The rule of the successful life is
to neglect no present opportunity of good either to yourself or to
others; and the rule of the successful student is to gather information
from whatever source he may, not doubting that it will prove useful to
himself or to his fellow-men.

Our own age has furnished two men,--one living, the other dead,--quite
opposite in talents and attainments, whose power and influence may not
have been surpassed in ancient or modern times. I speak of Kossuth and
Webster. Our history has no parallel for the first. Most men, young or
old, gay or severe, radical or conservative, were touched by his
mournful strains, and influenced by his magic words. He came from a land
of which we knew little, and so laid open the history of its wrongs that
he enlisted multitudes in its behalf. I speak not now of the views he
presented, nor of the demands he made upon the American people. If he
taught error and asked wrong, so the more wonderful was his career. No
doubt his cause did much for him; but other patriots and exiles have
had equal opportunities with Kossuth, yet no one has so swayed the
public mind.

He was distinguished in intellect, a master of much learning, a man of
nice moral feeling and strong religious sentiments, all of which were
combined and blended in his addresses to the people. But he spoke a
language whose rudiments he first learned in manhood. In his speech he
neglected the chief rule of Grecian eloquence. With one theme,
only,--the wrongs of Hungary; with one object, only,--her relief and
elevation,--he commanded the general attention of the American mind. The
mission of Kossuth in America deserves to be remembered as an
intellectual phenomenon, whose like, we of this generation may not again
see.

Mr. Webster had never great personal popularity. His presence was
majestic, but forbidding. His manners were agreeable, and sometimes
fascinating to his friends, when he was in a genial mood; but he was
often reserved or even austere to strangers, and terrible to his
enemies. His style of thought was mathematical, his language expressive,
but never popular. He wrote as a man would dictate an essay which was to
appear as a posthumous work. His eloquence was not that which often
passes for eloquence upon the stump or at the bar. He seldom attempted
to court the people, and when he did, it was as if he mocked himself,
and scorned the spirit which could be moved by the breezes of popular
favor. He was not free from faults, personal and political; yet he
acquired a control which has not been possessed by any man since
Washington. Whenever he was to speak, the public were anxious to hear
and to read. Hardly any man has had the fortune to present his views in
addresses, letters, and speeches, to so large a portion of his
countrymen; yet the people whom he addressed, and who were anxious for
his words and opinions, did not always, or even generally, agree with
him. Mr. Webster's power was chiefly, if not solely, intellectual. He
had not the personal qualities of Mr. Clay or General Jackson; he was
not, like Mr. Jefferson the chosen exponent of a political creed, and
the admitted leader of a great political party; nor had he the military
character and universally acknowledged patriotism of General Washington,
which made him first in the hearts of his countrymen. Mr. Webster stands
alone. His domain is the intellect, and thus far in America he is
without a rival. To Mr. Webster, and to all men proportionately,
according to the measure of their gifts and attainments, we may apply
his great words: "A superior and commanding human intellect, a truly
great man, when Heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, is not a temporary
flame, burning brightly for a while, and then giving place to returning
darkness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as well as radiant
light, with power to enkindle the common mass of human mind; so that,
when it glimmers in its own decay, and finally goes out in death, no
night follows, but it leaves the world all light, all on fire, from the
potent contact of its own spirit."

Some humble measure of this greatness may be attained by all; and, if I
have sought to lead you in the way of improvement by considerations too
purely personal and selfish, I will implore you, in conclusion, as
teachers and as citizens, to consider yourselves as the servants of your
country and your race. There can be no real greatness of mind without
generosity of soul. If a superior human intellect seems to be specially
the gift of God, how is he wanting in true religion who fails to
dedicate it to humanity, justice, and virtue!

An eminent historian, seeing at one view, and as in the present moment,
the fall of great states, ancient and modern, and anticipating a like
fate for his own beloved land, has predicted that in two centuries there
will be three hundred millions of people in North America speaking the
language of England, reading its authors, and glorying in their
descent. If this be so, what limits can we assign to the work, or how
estimate the duty, of those intrusted with the education of the young?

Who can say what share of responsibility for the future of America is
upon the teachers of the land?




LIBERTY AND LEARNING.

[An Address delivered at Montague, July 4th, 1857.]


I congratulate you upon the auspicious moments of this, the eighty-first
anniversary of our National Independence; and its return, now and ever,
should be the occasion of gratitude to the Author of all good, that He
hath vouchsafed to our fathers and to their descendants the wisdom to
establish and the wisdom to preserve the institutions of Liberty in
America.

And I congratulate you that you accept this anniversary as the occasion
for considering the subject of education. Ignorant and blind worshippers
of Liberty can do but little for its support; but, whatever of change or
decay may come to our institutions, Liberty itself can never die in the
presence of a people universally and thoroughly educated. It is not,
then, inappropriate nor unphilosophical for us to connect Education and
Liberty together; and I therefore propose, after presenting some
thoughts upon the Declaration of Independence, and its relations to the
American Union, to consider the value of political learning, its
neglect, and the means by which it may be promoted.

The events and epochs of life are logical in their nature, and are
harmonious or inharmonious as the affairs of men are controlled by
principle, policy, or accident. Humboldt, Maury, and Guyot, Arago,
Agassiz, and Pierce, by observation, philosophy, and mathematics,
demonstrate the harmony of the physical creation. In the microscopic
animalculæ; in the gigantic remains, whether vegetable or animal, of
other ages and conditions of life; in the coral reef and the mountain
range; in the hill-side rivulet that makes "the meadows green;" in the
ocean current that bathes and vivifies a continent; in the setting of
the leaf upon its stem, and the moving of Uranus in its orbit, they
trace a law whose harmony is its glory, and whose mystery is the
evidence of its divinity.

National changes, the movements and progress of the human race, as a
whole and in its parts, are obedient, likewise, to law; and are,
therefore, logical in their character, though generally lacking in
precision of connection and order of succession. Or it may be, rather,
that we lack power to trace the connection between events that depend in
part, at least, upon the prejudices, passions, vices, and weaknesses, of
men. The development of the logic of human affairs waits for a
philosopher who shall study and comprehend the living millions of our
race, as the philosophers now study and comprehend the subjects of
physical science. We have no guaranty that this can ever be done. As
mind is above matter, the mental philosopher enters upon the most varied
and difficult field of labor.

Keeping this fact in mind, it appears to be true that every person of
observation, reading, and reflection, is something of a mental
philosopher, though much the larger number have no knowledge of physical
science. And especially must the student of history have a system of
mental philosophy; but often, no doubt, his system is too crude for
general notice. Every historian connects the events of his narrative by
some thread of philosophy or speculation; every reader observes some
connection, though he may never develop it to himself, between the
events and changes of national and ethnological life; and even the
observer whose vision is limited by his own horizon in time and space
marks a dependence, and speaks of cause and effect. All this follows
from the existence and nature of man. Man is not inert, nor even
passive, merely; and his activity will continually organize itself into
facts and forms, ever changing in character, it may be, yet subject to
a law as wise and fixed as that of planetary motion.

The Independence of the British Colonies in America, declared on the 4th
of July, 1776, is not an isolated fact; nor is the Declaration itself a
hasty and overwrought production of a young and enthusiastic adventurer
in the cause of liberty.

The passions and the reason of men connected the Declaration of
Independence with the massacre in King-street, of March 5th, 1770; with
the passage and repeal of the Stamp Act; with the attempt to enforce the
Writs of Assistance; with the act to close the port of Boston; with the
peace of 1763; with the Act of Settlement of 1688; with the execution of
Charles I., and the Protectorate of Cromwell; with the death of Hampden;
with the confederation of 1643; with the royal charters granted to the
respective colonies; with the compact made on board the Mayflower; and,
finally, and distinctly, and chiefly,--as the basis of the greatest
legal argument of modern times, made by the Massachusetts House of
Representatives, from 1765 to 1775,--with the events at Runnymede, and
the grant of the Great Charter to the nobles and people of England in
1215, which is itself based upon the concessions of Edward the
Confessor, and the affirmation of the Saxon laws in the eleventh
century. Our Independence is, then, one logical fact or event in a long
succession, to the enumeration of which we may yet add the confederation
of 1778, the constitution of 1787, the French Revolution of 1789, the
rapid increase of American territory and States, the revolutionary
spirit of continental Europe, the reforms in the British government at
home, the wise modifications of its colonial policy, and for us a long
career of prosperity based upon the cardinal doctrine of the equality of
all men before the law.

Nor can any reader of the Declaration itself assume that it contains one
statement, proposition, idea, or word, not carefully considered, and
carefully expressed. It was not the production of hasty, thoughtless, or
reckless men. The country had been gradually prepared for the great
event. States, counties, and towns, had made the most distinct
expressions of opinion upon the relations of the colonies to the mother
country. On the 7th of June, 1776, Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia,
moved, in the Congress of the United Colonies, a resolution declaring,
That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and
independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the
British crown, and that all political connection between them and the
state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved. The
subject was considered on the tenth; and, on the eleventh instant, the
committee, consisting of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Dr. Franklin,
Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston, was appointed. On the
twenty-fifth of June, a Declaration of the Deputies of Pennsylvania, in
favor of Independence, was read. On the twenty-eighth, the credentials
of the delegates from New Jersey, in which they were instructed to favor
Independence, were presented; and on the first of July similar
instructions to the Maryland delegates were laid before Congress. At
this time Congress proceeded to consider the Declaration and resolution
reported by the committee. The Declaration was carefully considered, and
materially amended in committee of the whole, on the first, second,
third, and fourth, when it was finally adopted. It was then signed by
the president and secretary, and copies were transmitted to the several
colonies. The order for its engrossment, and for the signature by every
member, was not passed until the nineteenth of July, and it was not
really signed until the second of August following. It is not likely,
considering the circumstances, and the known character of the members of
Congress, among whom may be mentioned John Hancock, Samuel Adams,
Benjamin Rush, Robert Morris, Benjamin Harrison, Elbridge Gerry, John
Witherspoon, a descendant of John Knox, the Scottish Reformer, Charles
Carroll, and Samuel Huntington,--all distinguished for coolness,
probity, and patriotism,--that the immortal document can contain one
thought or word unworthy its sacred associations, and the character of
the American people!

And it is among the alarming symptoms of public sentiment that the
Declaration of Independence is by some publicly condemned, and by others
quietly accepted as entitled to just the consideration, and no more,
that is given to an excited advocate's speech to a jury, or a
demagogue's electioneering harangue, or the daily contribution of the
partisan editor to the stock of political capital that aids the election
of his favorite candidates. And upon this evidence is the nation and the
world to be taught that but little was meant by the assertions, "that
all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with
certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness; that, to secure these rights, governments are
instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the
governed"? Would it not be wiser to test the government we have, by a
statesmanlike application of the principles of the Declaration of
Independence in the management of public affairs?

The Union is connected with the Declaration of Independence. The Union
is an institution: the Declaration of Independence is an assertion of
rights, and an exposition of principles. When principles are
disregarded, institutions do not, for any considerable time, retain
their original value. And it would be the folly of other nations,
without excuse in us, were we to worship blindly any institution,
whatever its origin or its history. I do not, myself, doubt the value of
the American Union. It was the necessity of the time when it was formed;
it is the necessity of the present moment; it was, indeed, the claim of
our whole colonial life, and its recognition could be postponed no
longer when the colonies crossed the threshold of national existence.

The colonies had carried on a correspondence among themselves upon
important matters; the New England settlements formed a confederation in
1643, that was the prototype of the present Union; and the convention at
Albany, in 1754, considered in connection with various resolutions and
declarations, indicated a growing desire "to form a more perfect union,
establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common
defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of
liberty" to the successive generations that should occupy the American
continent.

For these exalted purposes the Constitution was framed, and the Union
established; and the Constitution and the Union will remain as long as
these exalted purposes, with any considerable share of fidelity, are
secured. The Union will not be destroyed by declamation, nor can
declamation preserve it. Words have power only when they awaken a
response in the minds of those who listen. The Union will be judged,
finally, by its merits; and they are not powerful enemies for evil who
attack it through the press and from the rostrum; but rather they who,
clothed with authority, brief or permanent, interpret the constitution
so as to defeat the end for which it was framed. Nor are they the best
friends of the Union who lavishly bestow upon it nicely-wrought
encomiums, as though the gilding of rhetoric and the ornament of praise
could shield a human institution from the judgment of a free people; but
rather they who, under Heaven, and in the presence of men, seek to so
interpret the constitution as, in the language and in the order of its
preamble, "to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure
domestic tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the
general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty" to themselves and
their posterity. Words are powerless, and enemies--envious, jealous, or
deluded--are powerless, when they war upon a system of government that
secures such exalted results. And, if in these later days of our
national existence patriotism has been weakened, respect and reverence
for the constitution and the Union have been diminished, it is because
the actual government under the constitution has, in the judgment of
many, failed to realize the government of the constitution.

But let no one despair of the Republic. Men are now building better than
they know; possibly, better than they wish. A great government, powerful
in its justice, and therefore to be respected and maintained, must also
be powerful in its errors, prejudices, and wrongs, and therefore to be
changed and reformed in these respects. The declaration "that all men
are created equal" is vital, and will live in the presence of all
governments, strong as well as weak, hostile as well as friendly. It has
no respect for worldly authority, so evidently is it a direct emanation
of the Divine Mind, and so does it harmonize with the highest
manifestations of the nature of man. But the Declaration of Independence
does not, in this particular, assert that all men are created equal in
height or weight, equal in physical strength, intellectual power, or
moral worth. It is not dealing with these qualities at all, but with the
natural political rights and relations of men. In its view, all are born
free from any political subordination to others on account of the
accidents or incidents of family or historic name. And hence it follows
that no man, by birth or nature, has any right in political affairs to
control his fellow-man; and hence it follows further, as there is
neither subjection anywhere nor authority anywhere, that all men are
created equal, that governments derive their "just powers from the
consent of the governed." And hence it must, ere long, be demonstrated
by this country, under the light of Christianity, and in the presence of
the world, that man cannot have property in his fellow-man.

And, again, let no one despair of the Republic or of the Union; nor let
any, with rash confidence, believe that they are indestructible. They
are human institutions built up through great sacrifices, and by the
exercise of a high order of worldly wisdom. But the government is not an
end--it is a means. The end is Liberty regulated by law; and the means
will exist as long as the end thereof is attained. But, should the time
ever come when the institutions of the country fail to secure the
blessings of liberty to the living generation, and hold out no promise
of better things in the future, I know not that these institutions could
longer exist, of that they ought longer to exist. To be sure, the
horizon is not always distinctly seen. The sky is not always clear;
there are dark spots upon the disk of Liberty, as upon the sun in the
heavens; but, like the sun, its presence is for all. And, whether there
be night, or clouds, or distance, its blessings can never be wholly
withdrawn from the human race.

It is not to be concealed, however, that the affections of the people
have been alienated from the American Union during the last seven years,
as they were from the union with Great Britain during the years of our
colonial life immediately previous to the Massacre in King-street, in
1770. This solemn personal and public experience is fraught with a great
lesson. It should teach those who are intrusted with the administration
of public affairs to translate the language of the constitution into the
stern realities of public policy, in the light of the Declaration of
Independence, and of Liberty; and it should warn those who constitute
the government, and who judge it, not to allow their opposition to men
or to measures to degenerate into indifference or hostility to the
institutions of the country.

A little distrust of ourselves, who see not beyond our own horizon,
might sometimes lend charity to our judgment, and discretion to our
opposition; for, in the turmoil of politics, and the contests of
statesmanship, even, it is not always


       "----the sea that sinks and shelves,
       But ourselves,
     That rook and rise
       With endless and uneasy motion,
     Now touching the very skies,
       Now sinking into the depths of ocean."


And, as there must be in every society of men something of evil that can
be traced to the government, and something of good neglected that a wise
and efficient government might have accomplished, it is easy to build up
an argument against an existing government, however good when compared
with others. This is a narrow, superficial, unsatisfactory, dangerous
view to take of public affairs.

We should seek to comprehend the relations of the government, the
principles on which it is founded; and, while we justly complain of its
defects, and seek to remedy them, we ought also to compare it with other
systems that exist, or that might be established. This proposition
involves an intelligent realization by the people of the character of
their institutions; and I am thus led to express the apprehension that
the popular political education of our day is inferior to that of the
revolutionary era, and of the age that immediately succeeded it.

There is, no doubt, a disposition and a tendency to extol the recent
past. The recollections of childhood are quite at variance with the real
truth, and tradition is often the dream of old age concerning the
events of early life. As rivers, hills, mountains, roads, and towns, are
all magnified by the visions of childhood, it is not strange that men
should be also. Hence comes, in part, the popular belief in the superior
physical strength and greater longevity of the people who lived fifty or
a hundred years ago. Each generation is familiar with its predecessor;
but of the one next remote it knows only the marked characters. Those
who possessed great physical excellences remain; but they are not so
much the representatives of their generation as its exceptions. The
weak, the diseased, have fallen by the way; and, as there is an intimate
connection between physical and intellectual power, the remnant of any
generation, whatever its common character, will retain a
disproportionate number of strong-minded men. Hence it is not safe to
judge a generation as a whole by those who remain at the age of sixty or
seventy years; especially if we reflect that public opinion and
tradition are most likely to preserve the names and qualities of those
who were distinguished for physical or mental power. Yet, after making
due allowance for these exaggerations, I cannot escape the conclusion
that we have, as a people, deteriorated in average sound political
learning; and I proceed to mention some of the causes and evidences of
our degeneracy, and of the superiority of our ancestors.

I. _The political condition of the country has been essentially
changed._--General personal and family comfort, according to the ideas
now entertained, was not a feature of American society for one hundred
and seventy years from the settlement at Plymouth. Life was a continual
contest--a contest with the forest, with the climate, with the Indians,
and especially was it a continual contest with the mother country. The
colonists sought to maintain their own rights without infringement,
while they accorded to the sovereign his constitutional privileges.
Conflicts were frequent, and apprehensions of conflict yet more
frequent. Hence those who had the conduct of public affairs were
compelled to give some attention to English history, and to the
constitutional law of Great Britain. Moreover, it was always important
to secure and keep a strong public sentiment on the side of liberty; and
there were usually in every town men who thoroughly investigated
questions of public policy. There was one topic, more absorbing than any
other, that involved the study of the legal history and usage of Great
Britain, and a careful consideration of the general principles of
liberty; namely, the constitutional rights of a British subject. Here
was a broad field for inquiry, investigation, and study; and it was
faithfully cultivated and gleaned. There has never been a political
topic for public discussion in America more important in itself, or
better calculated to educate an American in a knowledge of his political
rights, than the examination of the political relations of the subject
to the crown and parliament of Great Britain previous to the Declaration
of Independence. It was not an abstraction. It had a practical value to
every man in the colonies, and it was the prominent feature of the
masterly exposition made by the Massachusetts House of Representatives,
to which I have already referred. And we can better estimate the
political education which the times furnished, when we consider that the
revolutionary war was made logical and necessary through a knowledge of
positions, facts, and arguments, scattered over the history of the
colonies. But, when our Independence had been established and
recognized, constitutions had been framed, and the governments of the
states and nation set in motion, the beauty and harmony of our political
system seemed to render continued attention to political principles and
the rights of individual men unnecessary. Hence, we may anticipate the
judgment of impartial history in the admission that public attention was
gradually given to contests for office which did not always involve the
maintenance of a fundamental principle of government, or the recognition
of an essential human right. It does not, however, follow, from this
admission, that we are indifferent to our political lot,--occasional
contests upon principle refute such a conjecture,--but that men are not
anxious concerning those things which appear to be secure. And the
differences of political parties of the last fifty years have not been
so much concerning the nature of human rights, as in regard to the
institutions by which those rights can be best protected. Therefore our
political questions have been questions of expediency rather than of
principle. And, if there is any foundation for the popular impression
that public offices are conferred on men less eminently qualified to
give dignity to public employments, the reason of this degeneracy--less
noteworthy than it is usually represented--is to be found in this
connection.

Governments and political organizations accept the common law of
society. When an individual or a corporation is prosperous, places of
trust and emolument are often gained and occupied by unworthy men; but,
when profits are diminished, or when they disappear entirely; when
dividends are passed, when loss and bankruptcy are imminent, then, if
hope and courage still remain, places of importance are filled by the
appointment of abler and worthier men. The charge made against official
character, to whatever extent true, is better evidence of confidence and
prosperity than it is of the degeneracy of the people; and a public
exigency, serious and long-continued, would call to posts of
responsibility the highest talent and integrity which the country could
produce. But it is, nevertheless, to be admitted as a necessary
consequence of the facts already stated, and the views presented, that
the average amount of sound political learning among those engaged in
public employments is less than it was during the revolutionary era. It
is, however, also to be observed, that, when such learning seems to be
specially required, the people demand it and secure it. Hence the work
of framing constitutions, even in the new states, has, in its execution,
commanded the approval of political writers in this country and in
Europe. And it must, also, be admitted that peace and prosperity render
sound political learning and great experience less necessary, and at the
same time multiply the number of men who are considered eligible to
office. Candidates are put in nomination and elected because they have
been good neighbors, honorable citizens, competent teachers of youth, or
faithful spiritual guides; or, possibly, because they have been
successful in business, are of the military or of the fire department,
or because they are leaders and benefactors of special classes of
society. In ordinary times these facts are all worthy of consideration
and real deference; but when, as in the Revolution, every place of
public service is a post of responsibility, or sacrifice, or danger,
candidates and electors will not meet upon these grounds, but,
disregarding such circumstances, the canvass will have special reference
to the work to be done. For civil employments, political learning and
experience are required; and for military posts, skill, sagacity, and
courage. It may be said that our whole colonial life was a preparatory
school for the revolutionary contest; and, therefore, the major part of
the enterprise, ambition, and patriotism, of the country, was given to
the training, studies, and pursuits, calculated to fit men for so stern
a struggle. But now that other avenues are inviting in themselves, and
promise political preferment, we are liable to the criticism that our
young men, well educated in the schools and in a knowledge of the world,
are not well grounded in political history and constitutional law,
without which there can be no thorough and comprehensive statesmanship.
And, as I pass from this branch of my subject, I may properly say that I
do not seek to limit the number of candidates for public office; for
every office is a school, and the public itself is a great and wise
teacher. Nor do I ask any to abandon the employments and duties, or to
neglect the claims of business and of social life; but I seek to impress
upon our youth a sense of the importance of adding something thereto.
The knowledge of which I have spoken is valuable in the ordinary course
of public business, and absolutely essential in the exigences of
political and national life. And it is with an eye single to the
happiness of individuals, and the welfare of the public, that I invite
my fellow-citizens, and especially the young men of the state, to take
something from the hours of labor, where labor is excessive; or
something from amusement, where amusement has ceased to be recreation;
or something from light reading, which often is neither true, nor
reasonable, nor useful; or something from indolence and dissipation;
and, in the minutes and hours thus gained, treasure up valuable
knowledge for the circumstances and exigences of citizenship and public
office.

II. _The claims of business and society are unfavorable to political
learning._--I assume it to be true of Massachusetts that the proportion
of freehold farmers to the whole population is gradually diminishing,
and that the amount of labor performed by each is gradually increasing.
From the settlement of the country to the commencement of the present
century, there was a great deal of privation, hardship, and positive
suffering; but the claim for continuous labor was not exacting.

The necessary articles of food and clothing were chiefly supplied from
the land, and the majority did not contemplate any great accumulation of
worldly goods, but sought rather to place their political and religious
privileges upon a sure foundation. Agriculture was in a rude state, and
consequently did not furnish steady employment to those engaged in it.
It is only when there are valuable markets, scientific, or at least
careful cultivation, and large profits, that the farmer can use his
evenings and long winters in his profession. These circumstances did not
exist until the present century; and we have thus in this discussion
found both the motive and the opportunity for political learning among
our ancestors.

It is also possible that the increased activity of business and business
men is unfavorable to those studies and thoughts that are essential to
political learning. Commerce and trade are stimulated by never-ceasing
competition; and manufacturers are not free from the influence of
markets, and the necessity of variety, taste, and skill, in the
management of their business. If the larger share of the physical and
mental vigor of a man is given to business, his hours of leisure must be
hours of relaxation; and to most minds the study of history and of
kindred topics is by no means equivalent to recreation. Moreover,
society presents numerous claims which are not easily disregarded.
Fashionable life puts questions that but few people have the courage to
answer in the negative. Have you read the last novel? the new play? the
reviews of the quarter? the magazines of the month? or the greatest
satire of the age? These questions have puzzled many young men into
customary neglect of useful reading, that they may not admit their
ignorance in the presence of those whom they respect or admire.

But, everything valuable is expensive, and learning can be secured only
by severe self-sacrifice. With our ancestors, after religious culture,
historical and political reading was next immediately before them; but
the youth of this generation who seek such learning are compelled to
make their way without deference to the daily customs of society. There
is no fashionable or tolerated society that invites young men to read
the history of England prior to the time when Macaulay begins. Nor does
public sentiment recommend De Lolme on the British constitution, the
Federalist, the writings of Jefferson, Madison, Marshall, Story, and
Webster, upon the constitution of the United States, and the practice of
the government under it. Not but that these topics are considered in the
higher institutions of learning; but I address myself to those who have
enjoyed the advantages of our common schools only, where thorough
instruction in national and general political history cannot be given.
This kind of learning must be self-acquired, and acquired by some
temporary sacrifice; and the sooner, in the case of every young man,
this sacrifice is contemplated and offered, the more acceptable and
useful it will be. And the acquisition of this kind of learning does
not, in a majority of cases, admit of delay. It should be the work of
youth and early manhood. The duties of life are so constant and pressing
that we find it difficult to abstract ourselves and our thoughts from
the world; but, from the age of sixteen to the age of twenty-five, the
attention may be concentrated upon special subjects, and their elements
mastered.

By the Athenian law, minority terminated at the age of sixteen years;
and Demosthenes, at that period of his life, commenced a course of
self-education by which he became the first orator of Athens, and the
admiration of the after-world. The father of Demosthenes died worth
fourteen talents; and the son, though defrauded by his guardians, was,
as his father had been, enrolled in the wealthiest class of citizens;
yet he did not hesitate to subject himself to the severest mental and
physical discipline, in preparation for the great life he was to lead.

"Demosthenes received, during his youth, the ordinary grammatical and
rhetorical education of a wealthy Athenian.... It appears also that he
was, from childhood, of sickly constitution and feeble muscular frame;
so that, partly from his own disinclination, partly from the solicitude
of his mother, he took little part, as boy or youth, in the exercises of
the palæstra.... Such comparative bodily disability probably contributed
to incite his thirst for mental and rhetorical acquisitions, as the only
road to celebrity open. But it at the same time disqualified him from
appropriating to himself the full range of a comprehensive Grecian
education, as conceived by Plato, Isokrates, and Aristotle; an education
applying alike to thought, word, and action--combining bodily strength,
endurance, and fearlessness, with an enlarged mental capacity, and a
power of making it felt by speech.

"The disproportion between the physical energy and the mental force of
Demosthenes, beginning in childhood, is recorded and lamented in the
inscription placed on his statue after his death.... Demosthenes put
himself under the teaching of Isæus; ... and also profited largely by
the discourse of Plato, of Isokrates, and others. As an ardent
aspirant, he would seek instruction from most of the best sources,
theoretical as well as practical--writers as well as lecturers. But,
besides living teachers, there was one of the last generation who
contributed largely to his improvement. He studied Thucydides with
indefatigable labor and attention; according to one account, he copied
the whole history eight times over with his own hand; according to
another, he learnt it all by heart, so as to be able to rewrite it from
memory, when the manuscript was accidentally destroyed. Without minutely
criticizing these details, we ascertain, at least, that Thucydides was
the peculiar object of his study and imitation. How much the composition
of Demosthenes was fashioned by the reading of Thucydides, reproducing
the daring, majestic, and impressive phraseology, yet without the
overstrained brevity and involutions of that great historian,--and
contriving to blend with it a perspicuity and grace not inferior to
Lysias,--may be seen illustrated in the elaborate criticism of the
rhetor Dionysius.

"While thus striking out for himself a bold and original style,
Demosthenes had still greater difficulties to overcome in regard to the
external requisites of an orator. He was not endowed by nature, like
Æschines, with a magnificent voice; nor, like Demades, with a ready flow
of vehement improvisation. His thoughts required to be put together by
careful preparation; his voice was bad, and even lisping; his breath
short; his gesticulation ungraceful; moreover, he was overawed and
embarrassed by the manifestations of the multitude.... The energy and
success with which Demosthenes overcame his defects, in such manner as
to satisfy a critical assembly like the Athenians, is one of the most
memorable circumstances in the general history of self-education.
Repeated humiliation and repulse only spurred him on to fresh solitary
efforts for improvement. He corrected his defective elocution by
speaking with pebbles in his mouth; he prepared himself to overcome the
noise of the assembly by declaiming in stormy weather on the sea-shore
of Phalerum; he opened his lungs by running, and extended his powers of
holding breath by pronouncing sentences in marching up-hill; he
sometimes passed two or three months without interruption in a
subterranean chamber, practising night and day either in composition or
declamation, and shaving one-half of his head in order to disqualify
himself from going abroad."[3] Yet all this effort and sacrifice were
accompanied by repeated and humiliating failures; and it was not until
he was twenty-seven years of age that the great orator of the world
achieved his first success before the Athenian assembly.

But how can the youth of this age hope to be followers, even at a
distance, of Demosthenes, and of those his peers, who, by eloquence,
poetry, art, science, and general learning, have added dignity to the
race, and given lustre to generations separated by oceans and centuries,
unless they are animated by a spirit of progress, and cheered by a faith
that shall be manifested in the disposition and the power to overcome
the obstacles that lie in every one's path?

Such a course of training requires individual effort and personal
self-sacrifice. It would not be wise to follow the plan of the Athenian
orator; he adapted his training to his personal circumstances, and the
customs of the country. His history is chiefly valuable for the lessons
of self-reliance, and the example of perseverance under discouragements,
that it furnishes. But it is always a solemn duty to hold up before
youth noble models of industry, perseverance, and success, that they may
be stimulated to the work of life by the assurance of history that,


     "Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
       Is our destined end or way;
     But to act, that each to-morrow
       Find us further than to-day."


III. _The popular reading of the day does not contribute essentially to
the education of the citizen and statesman._--It is not, of course,
expected that every man is to qualify himself for the life of a
statesman; but it does seem necessary for all to be so well instructed
in political learning as to possess the means of forming a reasonable
and philosophical opinion of the policy of the government. It is as
discreditable to the intellect and judgment of a free people to complain
of that which is right in itself, and rests upon established principles
of right, as to submit without resistance or murmur to usurpation or
misgovernment. I do not mean to undervalue the periodical press; but it
must always assume something in regard to its readers, and in politics
it must assume that the principles of government and the history of
national institutions are known and understood.

But the young man should subject himself to a systematic course of
training; and I know of nothing more valuable in political studies than
a thorough acquaintance with English history. Our principles of
government were derived from England; and it is in the history of the
mother country that the best discussion of principles is found, as in
that country many of the contests for liberty occurred. But, as our
government is the outgrowth rather than a copy of British principles and
institutions, the American citizen is not prepared for his duties until
he has made himself familiar with American history, in all its
departments. How ill-suited, then, for the duties of citizenship and
public life, in the formation of taste and habits of thought, is much of
the reading of the present time! And I may here call attention to the
fact that each town in Massachusetts is invested with authority to
establish a public library by taxation. This, it seems to me, is one of
the most important legislative acts of the present decennial period;
and, indeed, a public library is essential to the view I am taking of
the necessity and importance of political education. Private libraries
exist, but they are not found in every house, nor can every person enjoy
their advantages. Public libraries are open to all; and, when the
selection of books is judicious, they furnish opportunities for
education hardly less to be prized than the common schools themselves.
The public library is not only an aid to general learning, a contributor
to political intelligence and power, but it is an efficient supporter of
sound morals, and all good neighborhood among men.


If the public will not offer to its youth valuable reading, such as its
experience, its wisdom, its knowledge of the claims of society, its
morality may select, shall the public complain if its young men and
women are tempted by frivolous and pernicious mental occupations? It is,
moreover, the duty of the public to furnish the means of self-education,
especially in the science of government; and political learning, for the
most part, must be gained after the school-going period of life has
passed.


Let American liberty be an intelligent liberty, and therefore a
self-sustaining liberty. Freedom, more or less complete, has been found
in two conditions of life. Man, in a rude state, where his condition
seemed to be normal, rather than the result of a process of mental and
moral degeneracy, has often possessed a large share of independence; but
this should by no means be confounded with what in America is called
liberty. The independence of the savage, or nomad, is manifested in the
absence of law; but the liberty of an American citizen is the power to
do whatever may be beneficial to himself, and not injurious to his
neighbor nor to the state. The first leaves self-protection and
self-regulation to the individual, while the latter restrains the
aggressive tendencies of all for the security of each. The first is
natural equality without law; the second is natural equality before the
law. With the first, might makes right; with the latter, right makes
might. With the first, the power of the law, or of the will of an
individual or clan, is in the rigor and success of execution; with the
latter, the power of the law is in the justice of its demand. We, as a
people, have passed the savage and nomadic state, and can return to it
only after a long and melancholy process of decay and change, out of
which ultimately might come a new and savage race of men. This, then, is
not our immediate, even if it be a possible danger. But we are to guard
against intellectual, political, and moral degeneracy. We are, through
family, religious, and public education, to take security of the
childhood and youth of the land for the preservation of the institutions
we have, and for the growth, greatness, and justice, of the republic.
Liberty in America, if you will admit the distinction, is a growth and
not a creation. The institutions of liberty in America have the same
character. By many centuries of trial, struggle, and contest, through
many years of experience, sometimes joyous, and sometimes sad, the fact
and the institutions of liberty in America have been evolved. It has not
been a work of destruction and creation, but a process of change and
progress. And so it must ever be. Reformation does not often follow
destruction; and they who seek to destroy the institutions of a country
are not its friends in fact, however they may be in purpose. Ignorance
can destroy, but intelligence is required to reform or build up. Let
the prejudice against learning, not common now, but possibly existing in
some minds, be forever banished. Learning is the friend of liberty. Of
this America has had evidence in her own history, and in her observation
of the experience of others. The literary institutions and the
cultivated men of America, like Milton and Hampden in England, preferred


     "Hard liberty before the easy yoke
     Of servile pomp."


It was the intelligence of the country that everywhere uttered and
everywhere accepted the declaration of the town of Boston, in the
revolutionary struggle, "We can endure poverty, but we disdain slavery."
Ignorance is quicksand on which no stable political structure can be
built; and I predict the future greatness of our beloved state, in those
historical qualities that outlast the ages, from the fact that she is
not tempted by her extent of territory, salubrity of climate, fertility
of soil, or by the presence and promise of any natural source of wealth,
to falter in her devotion to learning and liberty. And I anticipate for
Massachusetts a career of influence beneficial to all, whether disputed
or accepted, when I reflect that, with less good fortune in the presence
and combination of learning and liberty, Greece, Rome, Venice, Holland,
and England, enjoyed power disproportionate to their respective
populations, territory, and natural resources. And, while the object for
which we are convened may pardon something to local attachments and
state pride, the day and the occasion ought not to pass without a
grateful and hearty acknowledgment of the interest manifested by other
states and sections in the cause of general learning, and especially in
common-school education. The Canadas are our rivals; the states of the
West are our rivals; the states of the South are our rivals; and, were
our greater experience and better opportunities reckoned against us, I
know not that there would be much in our systems of education of which
we could properly boast. It is, indeed, possible that North Carolina,
untoward circumstances having their due weight, has made more progress
in education, since 1840, than any other state of the Union.

Education is not only favorable to liberty, but, when associated with
liberty, it is the basis of the Union and power of the American states.
As citizens of the republic, we need a better knowledge of our national
institutions, a better knowledge of the institutions of the several
states, a more intimate acquaintance with one another, and the power of
judging wisely and justly the policies and measures of each and all.
These ends, aided or accomplished by general learning, will so
strengthen the Union as no force of armies can--will so strengthen the
Union as that by no force of armies can it be overthrown.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Grote's Hist., vol. xi., p. 266, et seq.




MASSACHUSETTS SCHOOL FUND.

[Extract from the Twenty-Second Annual Report of the Secretary of the
Board of Education.]


The Massachusetts School Fund was established by the Legislature of 1834
(stat. 1834, chap. 169), and it was provided by the act that all moneys
in the treasury on the first of January, 1835, derived from the sale of
lands in the State of Maine, and from the claim of the state on the
government of the United States for military services, and not otherwise
appropriated, together with fifty per centum of all moneys thereafter to
be received from the sale of lands in Maine, should be appropriated to
constitute a permanent fund, for the aid and encouragement of Common
Schools. It was provided that the fund should never exceed one million
of dollars, and that the income only should be appropriated to the
object in view. The mode of distribution was referred to a subsequent
Legislature. It was, however, provided that a greater sum should never
be paid to any city or town than was raised therein for the support of
common schools. There are two points in the law that deserve
consideration. First, the object of the fund was the aid and
encouragement of the schools, and not their support; and secondly, the
limit of appropriation to the respective towns was the amount raised by
each. There is an apparent inconsistency in this restriction when it is
considered that the income of the entire fund would have been equal to
only forty-three cents for each child in the state between the ages of
five and fifteen years, and that each town raised, annually, by
taxation, a larger sum; but this inconsistency is to be explained by the
fact that the public sentiment, as indicated by resolves reported by the
same committee for the appointment of commissioners on the subject,
tended to a distribution of money among the towns according to their
educational wants.

As early as 1828, the Committee on Education of the House of
Representatives, in a Report made by Hon. W. B. Calhoun, declared, "That
means should be devised for the establishment of a fund having in view
not the _support_, but the _encouragement_, of the common schools, and
the instruction of school teachers." This report was made in the month
of January, and in February following the same committee say: "The
establishment of a fund should look to the support of an institution for
the instruction of school teachers in each county in the commonwealth,
and to the distribution, annually, to all the towns, of such a sum for
the benefit of the schools as shall simply operate as an encouragement
to proportionate efforts on the part of the towns. A fund which should
be so large as to suffice for the support of the whole school
establishment of the state, as is the case in Connecticut, would, in the
opinion of the committee, be rather detrimental than advantageous; it
would only serve to draw off from the mass of the community that
animating interest which will ever be found indispensable where a
resolute feeling upon the subject is wished for or expected. Such a
result is, in every sense, to be deprecated, and whatever may tend to
it, even remotely, should be anxiously avoided. A fund which should
admit of the distribution of one thousand dollars to any town which
should raise three thousand dollars, in any manner within itself, or in
that proportion, would operate as a strong incentive to high efforts;
and, if to this should be added the further requisition of a faithful
return to the Legislature, annually, of the condition of the schools,
the consequences could not be otherwise than decidedly favorable." This
report was accompanied by a bill "for the establishment of the
Massachusetts Literary Fund." The bill followed the report in regard to
the proportionate amount of the income of the fund to be distributed to
the several towns. This bill failed to become a law.

In January, 1833, the House of Representatives, under an order
introduced by Mr. Marsh, of Dalton, appointed a committee "to consider
the expediency of investing a portion of the proceeds of the sales of
the lands of this commonwealth in a permanent fund, the interest of
which should be annually applied, as the Legislature should from time to
time direct, for the encouragement of common schools." The adoption of
this order was the incipient measure that led to the establishment of
the Massachusetts School Fund. On the twenty-third of the same month,
Mr. Marsh submitted the report of the committee. The committee acted
upon the expectation that all moneys then in the treasury derived from
the sale of public lands, and the entire proceeds of all subsequent
sales, were to be set apart as a fund for the encouragement of common
schools; but, as blanks were left in the bill reported, they seem not to
have been sanguine of the liberality of the Legislature. The cash and
notes on hand amounted to $234,418.32, and three and a half millions of
acres of land unsold amounted, at the estimated price of forty cents per
acre, to $1,400,000 more; making together a fund with a capital of
$1,634,418.32. The income was estimated at $98,065.09. It was also
stated that there were 140,000 children in the state between the ages of
five and fifteen years, and it was therefore expected that the income of
the fund would permit a distribution to the towns of seventy cents for
each child between the afore-named ages. This certainly was a liberal
expectation, compared with the results that have been attained. The
distributive share of each child has amounted to only about one-third of
the sum then contemplated. The committee were careful to say, "It is not
intended, in establishing a school fund, to relieve towns and parents
from the principal expense of education; but to manifest our interest
in, and to give direction, energy, and stability to, institutions
essential to individual happiness and the public welfare." In
conclusion, the committee make the following inquiries and suggestions:

"Should not our common schools be brought nearer to their constitutional
guardians? Shall we not adopt measures which shall bind, in grateful
alliance, the youth to the governors of the commonwealth? We consider
the application, annually, of the interest of the proposed fund, as the
establishment of a direct communication betwixt the Legislature and the
schools; as each representative can carry home the bounty of the
government, and bring back from the schools returns of gratitude and
proficiency. They will then cheerfully render all such information as
the Legislature may desire. A new spirit would animate the community,
from which we might hope the most happy results. This endowment would
give the schools consequence and character, and would correct and
elevate the standard of education.

"Therefore, to preserve the purity, extend the usefulness, and
perpetuate the benefits of intelligence, we recommend that a fund be
constituted, and the distribution of the income so ordered as to open a
direct and more certain intercourse with the schools; believing that by
this measure their wants would be better understood and supplied, the
advantages of education more highly appreciated and improved, and the
blessings of wisdom, virtue, and knowledge, carried home to the fireside
of every family, to the bosom of every child." The bill reported by this
committee was read twice, and then, upon Mr. Marsh's motion, referred to
the next Legislature.

In 1834, the bill from the files of the last General Court to establish
the Massachusetts School Fund, and so much of the petition of the
inhabitants of Seekonk as related to the same subject, were referred to
the Committee on Education.

In the month of February, Hon. A. D. Foster, of Worcester, chairman of
the committee, made a report, and submitted a bill which was the basis
of the law of March 31, 1834. The committee were sensible of the
importance of establishing a fund for the encouragement of the common
schools. These institutions were languishing for support, and in a great
degree destitute of the public sympathy. There were no means of
communication between the government and the schools, and in some
sections towns and districts had set themselves resolutely against all
interference by the state. In 1832, an effort was made to ascertain the
amount raised for the support of schools. Returns were received from
only ninety-nine towns, showing an annual average expenditure of one
dollar and ninety-eight cents for each pupil.

The interest in this subject does not seem to have been confined to the
Legislature, nor even to have originated there. The report of the
committee contains an extract from a communication made by Rev. William
C. Woodbridge, then editor of the _American Annals of Education and
Instruction_. His views were adopted by the committee, and they
corresponded with those which have been already quoted. The dangers of a
large fund were presented, and the example of Connecticut, and some
states of the West, where school funds had diminished rather than
increased the public interest in education, was tendered as a warning
against a too liberal appropriation of public money. On the other hand,
Mr. Woodbridge claimed that the establishment of a fund which should
encourage efforts rather than supply all wants, and, without sustaining
the schools, give aid to the people in proportion to their own
contributions, was a measure indispensable to the cause of education. He
also referred to the experience of New Jersey, which had made a general
appropriation to be paid to those towns that should contribute for the
support of their own schools; but, such was the public indifference,
that after many years the money was still in the treasury. Hence it was
inferred that all these measures were ineffectual, and that mere
taxation was, upon the whole, to be preferred to any imperfect system.
But the example of New York was approved, where the distribution of a
small sum, equal to about twenty cents for each pupil, had increased the
public interest, and wrought what then seemed to be an effectual and
permanent revolution in educational affairs. These facts and reasonings,
say the committee, seem to be important and sound, and to result in
this,--that no provision ought to be made which shall diminish the
present amount of money raised by taxes for the schools, or the interest
felt by the people in their prosperity; that a fund may be so used as
satisfactorily to increase both--and that further information in regard
to our schools is requisite to determine the best mode of doing this.
These opinions are supported generally by the judgment of the present
generation. Yet it is to be remarked, by way of partial dissent, that
the public apathy in Connecticut and the states of the West was not in a
great degree the effect of the funds, but was rather a coëxisting,
independent fact. It ought not, therefore, to have been expected that
the mere offer of money for educational purposes, while the people had
no just idea of the importance of education or of the means by which it
could be acquired, would lead them even to accept the proffered boon;
and it certainly, in their judgment, furnished no reason for
self-taxation. It is, however, no doubt true that the power of local
taxation for the support of schools is in its exercise a means of
provoking interest in education; and it is reasonable to assume that a
public system of instruction will never be vigorous and efficient at all
times and under all circumstances where the right of local taxation does
not exist or is not exercised. When the entire expenditure is derived
from the income of public funds, or obtained by a universal tax, and the
proceeds distributed among the towns, parishes, or districts, there will
often be general conditions of public sentiment unfavorable, if not
hostile, to schools; and, there will always be found in any state,
however small, local indifference and lethargy which render all gifts,
donations, and distributions, comparatively valueless. The subject of
self-taxation annually is important in connection with a system of free
education. It is the experience of the states of this country that the
people themselves are more generous in the use of this power than are
their representatives; and it is also true that when the power has been
exercised by the people, there is usually more interest awakened in
regard to modes of expenditure, and more zeal manifested in securing
adequate returns. The private conversations and public debates often
arouse an interest which would never have been manifested had the means
of education been furnished by a fund, or been distributed as the
proceeds of a general tax assessed by the government of the state.

I have no doubt that much of our success is due to the fact that in all
the towns the question of taxation is annually submitted to the people.
It is quite certain that the sum of our municipal appropriations never
could have been increased from $387,124.17, in 1837, to $1,341,252.03,
in 1858, without the influence of the statistical tables that are
appended to the Annual Reports of the Board of Education; and it is also
true that the materials for these tables could not have been secured
without the agency of the school fund. Our experience as a state
confirms the wisdom of the reports of 1833 and 1834; and I unreservedly
concur in the opinion that a fund ought not to be sufficient for the
support of schools, but that such a fund is needed to give encouragement
to the towns, to stimulate the people to make adequate local
appropriations, to secure accurate and complete returns from the
committees, and finally to provide means for training teachers, and for
defraying the necessary expenses of the educational department. The law
of 1834, establishing the school fund, was reënacted in the Revised
Statutes (chap. 11, sects. 13 and 14). The Revised Statutes (chap. 23,
sects. 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, and 67) also required that returns should be
made, each year, from all the towns of the commonwealth, of the
condition of the schools in various important particulars. The income of
the fund was to be apportioned among the towns that had raised, the
preceding year, the sum of one dollar by taxation for each pupil, and
had complied with the laws in other respects; and it was to be
distributed according to the number of persons in each between the ages
of four and sixteen years. These provisions have since been frequently
and variously modified; but at all times the state has imposed similar
conditions upon the towns. By the statute of 1839, chapter 56, the
income of the school fund was to be apportioned among those towns that
had raised by taxation for the support of schools the sum of one dollar
and twenty-five cents for each person between the ages of four and
sixteen years; and, by the law of 1849, chapter 117, the income was to
be apportioned among those towns which had raised by taxation the sum of
one dollar and fifty cents for the education of each person between the
ages of five and fifteen years. This provision is now in force. By an
act of the Legislature, passed April 15th, 1846, it was provided that
all sums of money which should thereafter be drawn from the treasury,
for educational purposes, should be considered as a charge upon the
moiety of the proceeds of the sales of the public lands set apart for
the purpose of constituting a school fund. This provision continued in
force until the reörganization of the fund, in 1854. By the law of that
year (chap. 300), it was provided that one half of the annual income of
the fund should be apportioned and distributed among the towns according
to the then existing provisions of law, and that the educational
expenses before referred to should be chargeable to and paid from the
other half of the income of said fund. These provisions are now in
force.

The limitation of the act of 1834, establishing the fund, and of the
Revised Statutes, was removed by the law of 1851, chapter 112, and the
amount of the fund was then fixed at one million and five hundred
thousand dollars. By the act of 1854 the principal was limited to two
millions of dollars. The Constitutional Convention of 1853 had, with
great unanimity, declared it to be the duty of the Legislature to
provide for the increase of the school fund to the sum of two millions
of dollars; and, though the proposed constitution was rejected by the
people, the provision concerning the fund was generally, if not
universally, acceptable. Under these circumstances, the legislature of
1854 may be said to have acted in conformity to the known opinion and
purpose of the state.

On the 1st of June, 1858, the principal of the fund was $1,522,898.41,
including the sum of $1,843.68, added during the year preceding that
date. In this statement no notice is taken of the rights of the school
fund in the Western Railroad Loan Sinking Fund.

It may be observed that the committee of 1833 contemplated the
establishment of a fund, with a capital of $1,634,418.32, and yet, after
twenty-five years, the Massachusetts School Fund amounts to only
$1,522,898.41. Its present means of increase are limited to the excess
of one-half of the annual income over the current educational expenses.
The increase for the year 1856-7 was $4,142.90; and for the year 1857-8,
$1,843.68. With this resource only, and at this rate of increase, about
one hundred and sixty years will be required for the augmentation of the
capital to the maximum contemplated by existing laws. But the
educational wants of the state are such that even this scanty supply
must soon cease. It is then due to the magnitude of the proposition for
the considerable and speedy increase of the school fund, that its
necessity, if possible, or its utility, at least, should be
satisfactorily demonstrated; and it is for this purpose that I have
already presented a brief sketch of its history in connection with the
legislation of the commonwealth, and that I now proceed to set forth its
relations to the practical work of public instruction.

When the fund was instituted, public sentiment in regard to education
was lethargic, if not retrograding. The mere fact of the action of the
Legislature lent new importance to the cause of learning, inspired its
advocates with additional zeal, gave efficiency to previous and
subsequent legislation, and, as though there had been a new creation,
evoked order out of chaos.

Previous to 1834 there was no trustworthy information concerning the
schools of the state. The law of 1826, chapter 143, section 8, required
each town to make a report to the Secretary of the Commonwealth, of the
amount of money paid, the number of schools, the aggregate number of
months that the schools of each city and town were kept, the number of
male and female teachers, the whole number of pupils, the number of
private schools and academies and the number of pupils therein, the
amount of compensation paid to the instructors of private schools and
academies, and the number of persons between the ages of fourteen and
twenty-one years who were unable to read and write. The Legislature did
not provide a penalty for neglect of this provision, nor does there seem
to have been any just method of compelling obedience. The Secretary of
the Commonwealth sent out blank forms of returns, and replies were
received from two hundred and fourteen towns, while eighty-eight were
entirely silent.

The returns received furnish a series of interesting facts for the year
1826. There were one thousand seven hundred and twenty-six district
schools, supported at an expense of two hundred and twenty-six thousand
two hundred and nineteen dollars and ninety cents ($226,219.90), while
there were nine hundred and fifty-three academies and private schools
maintained at a cost of $192,455.10. The whole number of children
attending public schools was 117,186, and the number educated in
private schools and academies was 25,083. The expense, therefore, was
$7.67 per pupil in the private schools, and only $1.93 each in the
public schools. These facts are indicative of the condition of public
sentiment. About one-sixth of the children of the state were educated in
academies and private schools, at a cost equal to about six-sevenths of
the amount paid for the education of the remaining five-sixths, who
attended the public schools. The returns also showed that there were
2,974 children between the ages of seven and fourteen years who did not
attend school, and 530 persons over fourteen years of age who were
unable to read and write. The incompleteness of these returns detracts
from their value; but, as those towns where the greatest interest
existed were more likely to respond to the call of the Legislature, it
is probable that the actual condition of the whole state was below that
of the two hundred and eighty-eight towns. The interest which the law of
1826 had called forth was temporary; and in March, 1832, the Committee
on Education, to whom was referred an order with instructions to inquire
into the expediency of providing a fund to furnish, in certain cases,
common schools with apparatus, books, and such other aid as may be
necessary to raise the standard of common school education, say that
they desire more accurate knowledge than could then be obtained. The
returns required by law were in many cases wholly neglected, and in
others they were inaccurately made. In the year 1831 returns were
received from only eighty-six towns. In order to obtain the desired
information, a special movement was made by the Legislature. The report
of the committee was printed in all the newspapers that published the
laws of the commonwealth, and the Secretary was directed to prepare and
present to the Legislature an abstract of the returns which should be
received from the several towns for the year 1832. The result of this
extraordinary effort was seen in returns from only ninety-nine of three
hundred and five towns, and even a large part of these were confessedly
inaccurate or incomplete. They present, however, some remarkable facts.

The following table, prepared from the returns of 1832, shows the
relative standing and cost of public and private schools in a part of
the principal towns. It appears that the towns named in the table were
educating rather more than two-thirds of their children in the public
schools, at an expense of $2.88 each, and nearly one-third in private
schools, at a cost of $12.70 each, and that the total expenditure for
public instruction was about thirty-six per cent. of the outlay for
educational purposes.

Column Headings:
A - Amount paid for public instruction during the year.
B - Whole No. of Pupils in the Public Schools in the course of the yr.
C - Number of Academies and Private Schools.
D - Number of Pupils in Academies and Private Schools and not attending
Public Schools.
E -Estimated amount of compensation of Instructors of Academies and
Private Schools.

==============+============+========+=====+=======+============
    TOWNS.    |      A     |   B    |  C  |   D   |     E
--------------+------------+--------+-----+-------+------------
Beverly,      |  $1,800 00 |    580 |  28 |   490 |  $2,365 33
Bradford,     |     750 00 |    600 |   9 |   177 |   1,725 00
Danvers,      |   2,000 00 |    873 |   6 |   150 |   1,500 00
Marblehead,   |   2,200 00 |    650 |  31 |   650 |   3,800 00
Cambridge,    |   8,600 00 |    970 |  16 |   441 |   5,782 00
Medford,      |   1,200 00 |    284 |   6 |   151 |   2,372 00
Newton,       |   1,600 00 |    542 |   3 |   100 |   2,975 00
Amherst,      |     850 00 |    556 |   2 |   270 |   4,600 00
Springfield,  |   3,600 00 |  1,957 |   4 |   800 |   2,500 00
Greenfield,   |     633 75 |    216 |   2 |    65 |   1,400 00
Dorchester,   |   2,599 00 |    613 |  15 |   124 |   1,800 00
Quincy,       |   1,800 00 |    465 |   7 |   106 |   2,741 50
Roxbury,      |   4,450 00 |    836 |  12 |   313 |   8,218 00
New Bedford,  |   4,000 00 |  1,268 |  15 |   537 |   6,300 00
Hingham,      |   2,144 00 |    703 |   8 |   180 |   2,625 00
Provincetown, |     584 32 |    450 |   4 |   140 |     800 00
Edgartown,    |     450 00 |    350 |  10 |   100 |   2,700 00
Nantucket,    |   2,633,40 |    882 |  50 | 1,084 |  10,795 00
              |------------|--------|-----|-------+------------
18 Towns,     | $36,894 47 | 12,795 | 228 | 5,378 | $64,948 83
==============+============+========+=====+=======+============


The evidence is sufficient that the public schools were in a deplorable
and apparently hopeless condition.

The change that has been effected in the eighteen towns named may be
seen by comparing the following table with the one already given. In
1832, 64 per cent. of the amount paid for education was expended in
academies and private schools, while in 1858 only 24 per cent. was so
expended. In the same period the amount raised for public schools
increased from less than thirty-seven thousand dollars to more than two
hundred and fifty-nine thousand dollars. At the first period, the
attendance of pupils upon academies and private schools was nearly 30
per cent. of the whole number, while in 1858 it was only 8 per cent. The
private schools of some of these towns were established recently, and
are sustained in a degree by pupils who are not inhabitants of the
state, but who have come among us for the purpose of enjoying the
culture which our teachers and schools, private as well as public, are
able to furnish. If, as seems probable, the number of foreign pupils was
less in 1832 than in 1858, the decrease of pupils in private schools
would be greater than is indicated by the tables. The cost of education,
as it appears by this table, is rather more than thirty dollars per
pupil in the private schools, and only eight dollars and forty-nine
cents in the public schools. In the following table, Bradford includes
Groveland, Danvers includes South Danvers, Springfield includes
Chicopee, and Roxbury includes West Roxbury. This is rendered necessary
for the purposes of comparison, as Groveland, South Danvers, Chicopee,
and West Roxbury, have been incorporated since 1832.

Column Headings:
A - Amount paid for Public Schools in 1857-8, including tax, income of
Surplus Revenue, and of State School Fund, when such income is
appropriated for such schools, and exclusive of sums paid for
school-houses.
B - Whole No. of pupils attending Public Schools in 1857-8--the largest
No. returned as in attendance during any one term.
C - Number of incorporated and unincorporated Academies and Private
Schools returned in 1858.
D - Estimated attendance in Academies and Private Schools in 1857-8.
E - Estimated amount of tuition paid in Academies and Priv. Schools in
1857-8.

=============+=============+========+=====+=======+============
TOWNS.       |      A      |    B   |  C  |   D   |      E
-------------+-------------+--------+-----+-------+------------
Beverly,     |   $5,748 20 |  1,114 |   1 |    10 |    $100 00
Bradford,    |    2,416 47 |    513 |   2 |    84 |   1,720 00
Danvers,     |   14,829 52 |  2,066 |   1 |    40 |     360 00
Marblehead,  |    7,311 10 |  1,188 |   6 |   160 |   1,390 00
Cambridge,   |   37,420 86 |  4,710 |  14 |   400 |  15,000 00
Medford,     |    7,794 44 |    837 |   5 |   130 |   3,800 00
Newton,      |   12,263 50 |  1,138 |   8 |   308 |  22,800 00
Amherst,     |    2,142 80 |    536 |   5 |   121 |   3,934 00
Springfield, |   27,324 84 |  3,864 |   6 |    -- |         --
Greenfield,  |    2,627 50 |    589 |   2 |    25 |   1,800 00
Dorchester,  |   22,338 51 |  1,795 |   1 |    31 |     600 00
Quincy,      |    8,861 46 |  1,260 |   2 |    20 |     225 00
Roxbury,     |   50,000 00 |  4,400 |  25 |   561 |  10,600 00
New Bedford, |   36,074 25 |  3,548 |  20 |   434 |  15,074 00
Hingham,     |    4,904 13 |    728 |   2 |    71 |   1,717 56
Provincetown,|    3,147 26 |    689 |  -- |    -- |         --
Edgartown,   |    2,578 63 |    380 |   8 |    96 |     200 00
Nantucket,   |   11,596 27 |  1,198 |  13 |   259 |   3,466 23
-------------+-------------+--------+-----+-------+------------
Totals,      | $259,379 74 | 30,553 | 121 | 2,750 | $82,786 79
=============+=============+========+=====+=======+============


The Legislature of 1834 acted with wisdom and energy. The school fund
having been established, the towns were next required to furnish answers
to certain questions that were substituted for the requisition of the
statute of 1826, and any town whose committee failed to make the return
was to be deprived of its share of the income of the school fund,
whenever it should be first distributed. (Res. 1834, chap. 78.)

Those measures were in the highest degree salutary. There were 305 towns
in the state, and returns were received from 261. There was still a want
of accuracy and completeness; but from this time forth the state secured
what had never before been attained,--intelligent legislation by the
government, and intelligent coöperation and support by the people.

In December, 1834, the Secretary of the Commonwealth prepared an
aggregate of the returns received, of which the following is a copy:


Number of towns from which returns have been received,    261
Number of school districts,                             2,251
Number of male children attending school from
  four to sixteen years of age,                        67,499
Number of female children attending school from
  four to sixteen years of age,                        63,728
Number over sixteen and under twenty-one unable
  to read and write,                                      158
Number of male instructors,                             1,967
Number of female instructors,                           2,388
Amount raised by tax to support schools,          $810,178 87
Amount raised by contribution to support schools,   15,141 25
Average number of scholars attending academies
  and private schools,                                 24,749
Estimated amount paid for tuition in academies and private
 schools,                                         $276,575 75
Local funds--Yes,                                          71
Local funds--No,                                          181


Thus, by the institution of the school fund, provision was made for a
system of annual returns, from which has been drawn a series of
statistical tables, that have not only exhibited the school system as a
whole and in its parts, but have also contributed essentially to its
improvement.

These statistics have been so accurate and complete, for many years, as
to furnish a safe basis for legislation; and they have at the same time
been employed by the friends of education as means for awakening local
interest, and stimulating and encouraging the people to assume freely
and bear willingly the burdens of taxation. It is now easy for each
town, or for any inhabitant, to know what has been done in any other
town; and, as a consequence, those that do best are a continual example
to those that, under ordinary circumstances, might be indifferent. The
establishment and efficiency of the school-committee system is due also
to the same agency. There are, I fear, some towns that would now neglect
to choose a school committee, were there not a small annual distribution
of money by the state; but, in 1832, the duty was often either
neglected altogether, or performed in such a manner that no appreciable
benefit was produced. The superintending committee is the most important
agency connected with our system of instruction. In some portions of the
state the committees are wholly, and in others they are partly,
responsible for the qualifications of teachers; they everywhere
superintend and give character to the schools, and by their annual
reports they exert a large influence over public opinion. The people now
usually elect well-qualified men; and it is believed that the extracts
from the local reports, published annually by the Board of Education,
constitute the best series of papers in the language upon the various
topics that have from time to time been considered.[4] By the
publication of these abstracts, the committees, and indeed the people
generally, are made acquainted with everything that has been done, or is
at any time doing, in the commonwealth. Improvements that would
otherwise remain local are made universal; information in regard to
general errors is easily communicated, and the errors themselves are
speedily removed, while the system is, in all respects, rendered
homogeneous and efficient.

Nor does it seem to be any disparagement of Massachusetts to assume
that, in some degree, she is indebted to the school fund for the
consistent and steady policy of the Legislature, pursued for more than
twenty years, and executed by the agency of the Board of Education. In
this period, normal schools have been established, which have educated a
large number of teachers, and exerted a powerful and ever increasing
influence in favor of good learning. Teachers' institutes have been
authorized, and the experiment successfully tested. Agents of the Board
of Education have been appointed, so that it is now possible, by the aid
of both these means, as is shown by accompanying returns and statements,
to afford, each year, to the people of a majority of the towns an
opportunity to confer with those who are specially devoted to the work
of education. In all this period of time, the Legislature has never
been called upon to provide money for the expenses which have thus been
incurred; and, though a rigid scrutiny has been exercised over the
expenditures of the educational department, measures for the promotion
of the common schools have never been considered in relation to the
general finances of the commonwealth. While some states have hesitated,
and others have vacillated, Massachusetts has had a consistent, uniform,
progressive policy, which is due in part to the consideration already
named, and in part, no doubt, to a popular opinion, traditional and
historical in its origin, but sustained and strengthened by the measures
and experience of the last quarter of a century, that a system of public
instruction is so important an element of general prosperity as to
justify all needful appropriations for its support.

It may, then, be claimed for the Massachusetts School Fund, that the
expectations of those by whom it was established have been realized;
that it has given unity and efficiency to the school system; that it has
secured accurate and complete returns from all the towns; that it has,
consequently, promoted a good understanding between the Legislature and
the people; that it has increased local taxation, but has never been a
substitute for it; and that it has enabled the Legislature, at all times
and in every condition of the general finances, to act with freedom in
regard to those agencies which are deemed essential to the prosperity of
the common schools of the state.

Having thus, in the history of the school fund, fully justified its
establishment, so in its history we find sufficient reasons for its
sacred preservation. While other communities, and even other states,
have treated educational funds as ordinary revenue, subject only to an
obligation on the part of the public to bestow an annual income on the
specified object, Massachusetts has ever acted in a fiduciary relation,
and considered herself responsible for the principal as well as the
income of the fund, not only to this generation, but to every generation
that shall occupy the soil, and inherit the name and fame of this
commonwealth.

It only remains for me to present the reasons which render an increase
of the capital of the fund desirable, if not necessary. The annual
income of the existing fund amounts to about ninety-three thousand
dollars, one-half of which is distributed among the towns and cities, in
proportion to the number of persons in each between the ages of five and
fifteen years. The distribution for the year 1857-8 amounted to twenty
cents and eight mills for each child. The following table shows the
annual distribution to the towns from the year 1836; the whole number
of children for each year except 1836 and 1840, when the entire
population was the basis; and the amount paid on account of each child
since the year 1849, when the law establishing the present method of
distribution was enacted:


===================================================
         |              |               | Income
         |              |               | per
Year.    | Children.    | Income.       | pupil.
---------+--------------+---------------+----------
1836.    | 473,684      |$16,230 57[5]  | --
1837.    | 160,676      | 19,002 74[6]  | --
1838.    | 174,984      | 19,970 47     | --
1839.    | 180,070      | 21,358 81     | --
1840.    | 701,331      | 21,202 64[7]  | --
1841.    | 179,967      | 32,109 32[8]  | --
1842.    | 179,917      | 24,006 89     | --
1843.    | 173,416      | 24,094 87     | --
1844.    | 158,193      | 22,932 71     | --
1845.    | 170,823      | 28,248 35     | --
1846.    | 195,032      | 30,150 27     | --
1847.    | 197,475      | 34,511 89     | --
===================================================

===================================================
         |              |               | Per Pupil
         |              |               | in Cents
Year.    | Children.    | Income.       | & Mills.
---------+--------------+---------------+----------
1848.    | 210,403      |$33,874 87     | --
1849.    | 210,770      | 33,723 20     | --
1850.    | 182,003      | 37,370 51[9]  | .205
1851.    | 192,849      | 41,462 54     | .215
1852.    | 198,050      | 44,066 12     | .222
1853.    | 199,292      | 46,908 10     | .235
1854.    | 202,102      | 48,504 48     | .240
1855.    | 210,761      | 46,788 94     | .222
1856.    | 221,902      | 44,842 75     | .202
1857.    | 220,336      | 46,783 64     | .212
1858.    | 222,860      | 46,496 19     | .208
===================================================


It was contemplated by the founders of the school fund that an amount
might safely be distributed among the towns equal to one-third of the
sums raised by taxation, but the state is really furnishing only
one-thirtieth of the annual expenditure. A distribution corresponding to
the original expectation is neither desirable nor possible; but a
substantial addition might be made without in any degree diminishing the
interest of the people, or relieving them from taxation. The income of
the school fund has been three times used as a means of increasing the
appropriations in the towns. It is doubtful whether, without an addition
to the fund, this power can be again applied; and yet there are,
according to the last returns, twenty-two towns that do not raise a sum
for schools equal to $2.50 for each child between the ages of five and
fifteen years; and there are fifty-two towns whose appropriations are
less than three dollars. When the average annual expenditure is over six
dollars, the minimum ought not to be less than three.

It is to be considered that, as population increases, the annual
personal distribution will diminish, and consequently that the bond now
existing between the Legislature and people will be weakened. Moreover,
any definite sum of money is worth less than it was twenty years ago;
and it is reasonably certain that the same sum will be less valuable in
1860, and yet less valuable in 1870, than it is now. Hence, if the fund
remain nominally the same, it yet suffers a practical annual decrease.
It is further to be presumed that the Legislature will find it expedient
to advance in its legislation from year to year. A small number of
towns, few or many, may not always approve of what is done, and it is
quite important that the influence of the fund should be sufficient to
enable the state to execute its policy with uniformity and precision.

As is well known, the expenses of the educational department are
defrayed from the other half of the income of the fund. From this income
the forty-eight scholarships in the colleges, the Normal Schools, the
Teachers' Institutes, the Agents of the Board of Education, are
supported, and the salaries of the Secretary and the Assistant-Secretary
are paid. As has been stated, the surplus carried to the capital of the
fund in June last was only $1,843.68. The objects of expenditure,
already named, may be abolished, but no reasonable plan of economy can
effect much saving while they exist. It is also reasonably certain that
the expenses of the department must be increased. The law now provides
for twelve Teachers' Institutes, annually, and there were opportunities
during the present year for holding them; but, in order that one agent
might be constantly employed, and a second employed for the term of six
months, I limited the number of sessions to ten.

The salaries of the teachers in the Normal Schools are low, and the
number of persons employed barely adequate to the work to be done. Some
change, involving additional expense, is likely to be called for in the
course of a few years.

In view of the eminent aid which the school fund has rendered to the
cause of education, with due deference to the wisdom and opinions of its
founders, and with just regard to the existing and probable necessities
of the state in connection with the cause of education, I earnestly
favor the increase of the school fund by the addition of a million and a
half of dollars.

Nor does the proposition for the state to appropriate annually $180,000
in aid of the common schools seem unreasonable, when it is considered
that the military expenses are $65,000, the reformatory and correctional
about $200,000, the charitable about $45,000, and the pauper expenses
nearly $250,000 more, all of which will diminish as our schools are year
by year better qualified to give thorough and careful intellectual,
moral, and religious culture.

This increase seems to be necessary in order that the Massachusetts
School Fund may furnish aid to the common schools during the next
quarter of a century proportionate to the relative influence exerted by
the same agency during the last twenty-five years. Nor will such an
addition give occasion for any apprehension that the zeal of the people
will be diminished in the least. Were there to be no increase of
population in the state, the distribution for each pupil would never
exceed forty cents, or about one-fifteenth of the amount now raised by
taxation.

So convinced are the people of Massachusetts of the importance of common
schools, and so much are they accustomed to taxation for their support,
that there is no occasion to hesitate, lest we should follow the example
of those communities where large funds, operating upon an uneducated and
inexperienced popular opinion, have injured rather than benefited the
public schools. The ancient policy of the commonwealth will be
continued; but, whenever the people see the government, by solemn act,
manifesting its confidence in schools and learning, they will be
encouraged to guard and sustain the institutions of the fathers.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] An eminent friend of education, and an Englishman, speaking of the
reports for the year 1866-7, says: "The views enunciated by your local
committees, while they have the sobriety indicative of practical
knowledge, are at the same time enlightened and expansive. The writers
of such reports must be of inestimable aid to your schoolmasters,
standing as they do between the teacher and the parent, and exercising
the most wholesome influence on both. Let me remark, in passing, that I
am struck with the power of composition evinced in these provincial
papers. Clear exposition, great command of the best English, correctness
and even elegance of style, are their characteristics."

[5] Distributed among the cities and towns, according to an Act of 1835.
(Stat. 138, § 2.)

[6] Distributed among the cities and towns, according to the number of
persons in each between the ages of four and sixteen years. (Rev. Stat.,
chap. 23, § 67.)

[7] Income distributed among the cities and towns, according to
population, under an Act passed Feb. 22, 1840. (Stat. 1840, Chap. 7.)
This act was repealed by an act passed Feb. 8, 1841. (Stat. 1841, chap.
17, § 2.)

[8] Distributed among the cities and towns, according to the number of
persons in each between the ages of four and sixteen years. (Stat. 1841,
chap. 17, § 2.)

[9] Distributed among the cities and towns, according to the number of
persons in each between the ages of five and fifteen years. (Stat. 1849,
chap. 117, § 2.)




A SYSTEM OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION.

[An Address before the Barnstable Agricultural Society, Oct. 8, 1857.]


In the month of February, 1855, a distinguished American, who has read
much, and acquired, by conversation, observation, and travels in this
country and Europe, the highest culture of American society, wrote these
noticeable sentences: "The farmers have not kept pace, in intelligence,
with the rest of the community. They do not put brain-manure enough into
their acres. Our style of farming is slovenly, dawdling, and stupid, and
the waste, especially in manure, is immense. I suppose we are about, in
farming, where the Lowlands of Scotland were fifty years ago; and what
immense strides agriculture has made in Great Britain since the battle
of Waterloo, and how impossible it would have been for the farmers to
have held their own without!"[10]

It would not be civil for me to endorse these statements as introductory
to a brief address upon Agricultural Education; but I should not accept
them at all did they not contain truth enough to furnish a text for a
layman's discourse before an assembly of farmers.

Competent American travellers concur in the opinion that the Europeans
generally, and especially our brethren of England, Ireland, and
Scotland, are far in advance of us in scientific and practical
agriculture. This has been stated or admitted by Mr. Colman, President
Hitchcock, and last by Mr. French, who has recently visited Europe under
the auspices of the National Agricultural Society.

There are good reasons for the past and for the existing superiority of
the Old World; and there are good reasons, also, why this superiority
should not much longer continue. Europe is old,--America is young. Land
has been cultivated for centuries in Europe, and often by the same
family; its capacity tested, its fitness or unfitness for particular
crops proved, the local and special effects of different fertilizers
well known, and the experience of many generations has been preserved,
so as to be equivalent to a like experience, in time and extent, by the
present occupants of the soil.

In America there are no family estates, nor long occupation by the same
family of the same spot. Cultivated lands have changed hands as often as
every twenty-five years from the settlement of the country. The
capacity of our soils to produce, when laboriously and systematically
cultivated, has not been ascertained; there has been no accumulation of
experience by families, and but little by the public; and the effort, in
many sections, has been to draw as much as possible from the land, while
little or nothing was returned to it. Farming, as a whole, has not been
a system of cultivation, which implies improvement, but a process of
exhaustion. It has been easier for the farmer, though, perhaps, not as
economical, if all the elements necessary to a correct opinion could be
combined, to exchange his worn-out lands for fresh soils, than to adopt
an improving system of agriculture. The present has been consulted; the
future has been disregarded. As the half-civilized hunters of the pampas
of Buenos Ayres make indiscriminate slaughter of the myriads of wild
cattle that roam over the unfenced prairies of the south, and preserve
the hides only for the commerce and comfort of the world, so we have
clutched from nature whatever was in sight or next at hand, regardless
of the actual and ultimate wrong to physical and vegetable life; and, as
the pioneers of a better civilization now gather up the bones long
neglected and bleaching under tropical suns and tropical rains, and by
the agency of trade, art, and industry, extort more wealth from them
than was originally derived from the living animals, so we shall find
that worn-out lands, when subjected to skilful, careful, scientific
husbandry, are quite as profitable as the virgin soils, which, from the
day of the migration into the Connecticut valley to the occupancy of the
Missouri and the Kansas, have proved so tempting to our ancestors and to
us. But there has been some philosophy, some justice, and considerable
necessity, in the course that has been pursued. Subsistence is the first
desire; and, in new countries where forests are to be felled, dwellings
erected, public institutions established, roads and bridges built,
settlers cannot be expected, in the cultivation of the land, to look
much beyond the present moment. And they are entitled to the original
fertility of the soil. Europe passed through the process of settlement
and exhaustion many centuries ago. Her recovery has been the work of
centuries,--ours may be accomplished in a few years, even within the
limits of a single life. The fact from which an improving system of
agriculture must proceed is apparent in the northern and central
Atlantic states, and is, in a measure, appreciated in the West. We have
all heard that certain soils were inexhaustible. The statement was first
made of the valley of the Connecticut, then of the Genesee country, then
of Ohio, then of Illinois, and occasionally we now hear similar
statements of Kansas, or California, or the valley of the Willamette. In
the nature of things these statements were erroneous. The idea of soil,
in reason and in the use of the word, contains the idea of exhaustion.
Soil is not merely the upper stratum of the earth; it is a substance
which possesses the power, under certain circumstances, of giving up
essential properties of its own for the support of vegetable and
ultimately of animal life. What it gives up it loses, and to the extent
of its loss it is exhausted. It is no more untrue to say that the great
cities of the world have not, in their building, exhausted the forests
and the mines to any extent, than to say that the annual abundant
harvests of corn and wheat have not, in any degree, exhausted the
prairies and bottom lands of the West. Some lands may be exhausted for
particular crops in a single year; others in five years, others in ten,
while others may yield undiminished returns for twenty, fifty, or even a
hundred years. But it is plain that annual cropping without rotation,
and without compensation by nature or art, must finally deprive the soil
of the required elements. Nor should we deceive ourselves by considering
only those exceptions whose existence is due to the fact that nature
makes compensation for the loss. Annual or occasional irrigation with
rich deposits,--as upon the Nile and the Connecticut,--allowing the
land to lie fallow, rotation of crops and the growth of wood, are so
many expedients and provisions by which nature increases the
productiveness of the earth. Nor is a great depth of soil, as two, five,
ten, or twenty feet, any security against its ultimate impoverishment.
Only a certain portion is available. It has been found in the case of
coal-mines which lie at great depths, that they are, for the present,
valueless; and we cannot attach much importance to soil that is twenty
feet below the surface. Neither cultivation nor vegetation can go beyond
a certain depth; and wherever vegetable life exists, its elements are
required and appropriated. Great depth of soil is desirable; but, with
our present knowledge and means of culture, it furnishes no security
against ultimate exhaustion.

The fact that all soils are exhaustible establishes the necessity for
agricultural education, by whose aid the processes of impoverishment may
be limited in number and diminished in force; and the realization of
this fact by the public generally is the only justification necessary
for those who advocate the immediate application of means to the
proposed end.

And, gentlemen, if you will allow a festive day to be marred by a single
word of criticism, I feel constrained to say, that a great obstacle to
the increased usefulness, further elevation, and higher respectability,
of agriculture, is in the body of farmers themselves. And I assume this
to be so upon the supposition that agriculture is not a cherished
pursuit in many farmers' homes; that the head of the family often
regards his life of labor upon the land as a necessity from which he
would willingly escape; that he esteems other pursuits as at once less
laborious, more profitable, and more honorable, than his own; that
children, both sons and daughters, under the influence of parents, both
father and mother, receive an education at home, which neither school,
college, nor newspaper, can counteract, that leads them to abandon the
land for the store, the shop, the warehouse, the professions, or the
sea.

The reasonable hope of establishing a successful system of agricultural
education is not great where such notions prevail.

Agriculture is not to attain to true practical dignity by the borrowed
lustre that eminent names, ancient and modern, may have lent to it, any
more than the earth itself is warmed and made fruitful by the aurora
borealis of an autumn night. Our system of public instruction, from the
primary school to the college, rests mainly upon the public belief in
its importance, its possibility, and its necessity. It is easy on a
professional holiday to believe in the respectability of agriculture;
but is it a living sentiment, controlling your conduct, and inspiring
you with courage and faith in your daily labor? Does it lead you to
contemplate with satisfaction the prospect that your son is to be a
farmer also, and that your daughter is to be a farmer's wife? These, I
imagine, are test questions which not all farmers nor farmers' wives can
answer in the affirmative. Else, why the custom among farmers' sons of
making their escape, at the earliest moment possible, from the labors
and restraints of the farm? Else, why the disposition of the farmer's
daughter to accept other situations, not more honorable, and in the end
not usually more profitable, than the place of household aid to the
business of the home? How, then, can a system of education be prosperous
and efficient, when those for whom it is designed neither respect their
calling nor desire to pursue it? You will not, of course, imagine that I
refer, in these statements, to all farmers; there are many exceptions;
but my own experience and observation lead me to place confidence in the
fitness of these remarks, speaking generally of the farmers of New
England. It is, however, true, and the statement of the truth ought not
to be omitted, that the prevalent ideas among us are much in advance of
what they were ten years ago. In what has been accomplished we have
ground for hope, and even security for further advancement.

I look, then, first and chiefly to an improved home culture, as the
necessary basis of a system of agricultural education. Christian
education, culture, and life, depend essentially upon the influences of
home; and we feel continually the importance of kindred influences upon
our common school system.

It will not, of course, be wise to wait, in the establishment of a
system of agricultural education, until we are satisfied that every
farmer is prepared for it; in the beginning sufficient support may be
derived from a small number of persons, but in the end it must be
sustained by the mass of those interested. Other pursuits and
professions must meet the special claims made upon them, and in the
matter of agricultural education they cannot be expected to do more than
assent to what the farmers themselves may require.

An important part of a system of agricultural education has been, as it
seems to me, already established. I speak of our national, state,
county, and town associations for the promotion of agriculture. The
first three may educate the people through their annual fairs, by their
publications, and by the collection and distribution of rare seeds,
plants, and animals, that are not usually within reach of individual
farmers. By such means, and others less noticeable, these agencies can
exert a powerful influence upon the farmers of the country; but their
thorough, systematic education must be carried on at home. And for local
and domestic education I think we must rely upon our public schools,
upon town clubs or associations of farmers, and upon scientific men who
may be appointed by the government to visit the towns, confer with the
people, and receive and communicate information upon the agricultural
resources and defects of the various localities. It will be observed
that in this outline of a plan of education I omit the agricultural
college. This omission is intentional, and I will state my reasons for
it. I speak, however, of the present; the time may come when such an
institution will be needed. In Massachusetts, Mr. Benjamin Bussey has
made provision for a college at Roxbury, and Mr. Oliver Smith has made
similar provision for a college at Northampton; but these bequests will
not be available for many years. In England, Ireland, Scotland, France,
Belgium, Prussia, Russia, Austria, and the smaller states of Europe,
agricultural schools and colleges have been established; and they appear
to be the most numerous where the ignorance of the people is the
greatest. England has five colleges and schools, Ireland sixty-three,
while Scotland has only a professorship in each of her colleges at
Aberdeen and Edinburgh. In France, there are seventy-five agricultural
schools; but in seventy of them--called inferior schools--the
instruction is a compound of that given in our public schools and the
discipline of a good farmer upon his land, with some special attention
to agricultural reading and farm accounts. Such schools are not desired
and would not be patronized among us. When an agricultural school is
established, it must be of a higher grade,--it must take rank with the
colleges of the country. President Hitchcock, in his report, published
in 1851, states that six professors would be required; that the first
outlay would be sixty-seven thousand dollars, and that the annual
expense would be six thousand and two hundred dollars. By these
arrangements and expenditures he contemplates the education of one
hundred students, who are to pay annually each for tuition the sum of
forty dollars. It was also proposed to connect an agricultural
department with several of the existing academies, at an annual expense
of three thousand dollars more. These estimates of cost seem low, nor do
I find in this particular any special objection to the recommendation
made by the commissioners of the government; any other scheme is likely
to be quite as expensive in the end.

My chief objection is, that such a plan is not comprehensive enough, and
cannot, in a reasonable time, sensibly affect the average standard of
agricultural learning among us. The graduation of fifty students a year
would be equal to one in a thousand or fifteen hundred of the farmers of
the state; and in ten years there would not be one professionally
educated farmer in a hundred. We are not, of course, to overlook the
indirect influence of such a school, through its students annually sent
forth: the better modes of culture adopted by them would, to some
extent, be copied by others; nor are we to overlook the probability of a
prejudice against the institution and its graduates, growing out of the
republican ideas of equality prevailing among us. But the struggle
against mere prejudice would be an honorable struggle, if, in the hour
of victory, the college could claim to have reformed and elevated
materially the practices and ideas of the farmers of the country. I fear
that even victory under such circumstances would not be complete
success. An institution established in New England must look to the
existing peculiarities of our country, rather than venture at once upon
the adoption of schemes that may have been successful elsewhere. Here
every farmer is a laborer himself, employing usually from one to three
hands, and they are often persons who look to the purchase and
cultivation of a farm on their own account; while in England the master
farmer is an overseer rather than a laborer. The number of men in Europe
who own land or work it on their own account is small; the number of
laborers whose labors are directed by the proprietors and farmers is
quite large. Under these circumstances, if the few are educated, the
work will go successfully on; while here, our agricultural education
ought to reach the great body of those who labor upon the land. Will a
college in each state answer the demand for agricultural education now
existing? Is it safe in any country, or in any profession or pursuit, to
educate a few, and leave the majority to the indirect influence of the
culture thus bestowed? And is it philosophical, in this country, where
there is a degree of personal and professional freedom such as is
nowhere else enjoyed, to found a college or higher institution of
learning upon the general and admitted ignorance of the people in the
given department? or is it wiser, by elementary training and the
universal diffusion of better ideas, to make the establishment of the
college the necessity of the culture previously given? Every new school,
not a college, makes the demand for the college course greater than it
was before; and the advance made in our public schools increases the
students in the colleges and the university. We build from the primary
school to the college; and without the primary school and its
dependents,--the grammar, high school, and academy,--the colleges would
cease to exist. This view of education supports the statement that an
agricultural college is not the foundation of a system of agricultural
training, but a result that is to be reached through a preliminary and
elementary course of instruction. What shall that course be? I say,
first, the establishment of town or neighborhood societies of farmers
and others interested in agriculture. These societies ought to be
auxiliary to the county societies, and they never can become their
rivals or enemies unless they are grossly perverted in their management
and purposes. As such societies must be mutual and voluntary in their
character, they can be established in any town where there are twenty,
ten, or even five persons who are disposed to unite together. Its object
would, of course, be the advancement of practical agriculture; and it
would look to theories and even to science as means only for the
attainment of a specified end. The exercises of such societies would
vary according to the tastes and plans of the members and directors; but
they would naturally provide for discussions and conversations among
themselves, lectures from competent persons, the establishment of a
library, and for the collection of models and drawings of domestic
animals, models of varieties of fruit, specimens of seeds, grasses, and
grains, rocks, minerals, and soils. The discussions and conversations
would be based upon the actual observation and experience of the
members; and agriculture would at once become better understood and more
carefully practised by each person who intended to contribute to the
exercises of the meeting.

Until the establishment of agricultural journals, there were no means by
which the results of individual experience could be made known to the
mass of farmers; and, even now, men of the largest experience are not
the chief contributors.

Wherever a local club exists, it is always possible to compare the
knowledge of the different members; and the results of such comparison
may, when deemed desirable, be laid before the public at large. It is
also in the power of such an organization thoroughly and at once to test
any given experiment. The attention of this section of the country has
been directed to the culture of the Chinese sugar-cane; and merchants,
economists, and statesmen, as well as the farmers themselves, are
interested in the speedy and satisfactory solution of so important an
industrial problem. Had the attention of a few local societies in
different parts of New England been directed to the culture, with
special reference to its feasibility and profitableness, a definite
result might have been reached the present year. The growth of flax,
both in the means of cultivation and in economy, is a subject of great
importance. Many other crops might also be named, concerning which
opposite, not to say vague, opinions prevail. The local societies may
make these trials through the agency of individual members better than
they can be made by county and state societies, and better than they can
usually be made upon model or experimental farms. It will often happen
upon experimental farms that the circumstances do not correspond to the
condition of things among the farmers. The combined practical wisdom of
such associations must be very great; and I have but to refer to the
published minutes of the proceedings of the Concord Club to justify this
statement in its broadest sense. The meetings of such a club have all
the characteristics of a school of the highest order. Each member is at
the same time a teacher and a pupil. The meeting is to the farmer what
the court-room is to the lawyer, the hospital to the physician, and the
legislative assembly to the statesman.

Moot courts alone will not make skilful lawyers; the manikin is but an
indifferent teacher of anatomy; and we may safely say that no statesman
was ever made so by books, schools, and street discussions, without
actual experience in some department of government.

It is, of course, to be expected that an agricultural college would have
the means of making experiments; but each experiment could be made only
under a single set of circumstances, while the agency of local
societies, in connection with other parts of the plan that I have the
honor diffidently to present, would convert at once a county or a state
into an experimental farm for a given time and a given purpose. The
local club being always practical and never theoretical, dealing with
things always and never with signs, presenting only facts and never
conjectures, would, as a school for the young farmer, be quite equal,
and in some respects superior, to any that the government can establish.
But, it may be asked, will you call that a school which is merely an
assembly of adults without a teacher? I answer that technically it is
not a school, but that in reality such an association is a school in the
best use of the word. A school is, first, for the development of powers
and qualities whose germs already exist; then for the acquisition of
knowledge previously possessed by others; then for the prosecution of
original inquiries and investigations. The associations of which I speak
would possess all these powers, and contemplate all these results; but
that their powers might be more efficient, and for the advancement of
agriculture generally, it seems to me fit and proper for the state to
appoint scientific and practical men as agents of the Board of
Agriculture, and lecturers upon agricultural science and labor. If an
agricultural college were founded, a farm would be required, and at
least six professors would be necessary. Instead of a single farm, with
a hundred young men upon it, accept gratuitously, as you would no doubt
have opportunity, the use of many farms for experiments and repeated
trials of crops, and, at the same time, educate, not a hundred only, but
many thousand young men, nearly as well in theory and science, and much
better in practical labor, than they could be educated in a college. Six
professors, as agents, could accomplish a large amount of necessary
work; possibly, for the present, all that would be desired. Assume, for
this inquiry, that Massachusetts contains three hundred agricultural
towns; divide these towns into sections of fifty each; then assign one
section to each agent, with the understanding that his work for the
year is to be performed in that section, and then that he is to be
transferred to another. By a rotation of appointments and a succession
of labors, the varied attainments of the lecturers would be enjoyed by
the whole commonwealth. But, it may be asked, what, specifically stated,
shall the work of the agents be? Only suggestions can be offered in
answer to this inquiry. An agent might, in the summer season, visit his
fifty towns, and spend two days in each. While there, he could ascertain
the kinds of crops, modes of culture, nature of soils, practical
excellences, and practical defects, of the farmers; and he might also
provide for such experiments as he desired to have made. It would,
likewise, be in his power to give valuable advice, where it might be
needed, in regard to farming proper, and also to the erection and repair
of farm-buildings. I am satisfied that a competent agent would, in this
last particular alone, save to the people a sum equal to the entire cost
of his services. After this labor was accomplished, eight months would
remain for the preparation and delivery of lectures in the fifty towns
previously visited. These lectures might be delivered in each town, or
the agent might hold meetings of the nature of institutes in a number of
towns centrally situated. In either case, the lectures would be at once
scientific and practical; and their practical character would be
appreciated in the fact that a judicious agent would adapt his lectures
to the existing state of things in the given locality. This could not be
done by a college, however favorably situated, and however well
accomplished in the material of education. It is probable that the
lectures would be less scientific than those that would be given in a
college; but when their superior practical character is considered, and
when we consider also that they would be listened to by the great body
of farmers, old and young, while those of the college could be enjoyed
by a small number of youth only, we cannot doubt which would be the most
beneficial to the state, and to the cause of agriculture in the country.

An objection to the plan I have indicated may be found in the belief
that the average education of the farmers is not equal to a full
appreciation of the topics and lectures to be presented. My answer is,
that the lecturers must meet the popular intelligence, whatever it is.
Nothing is to be assumed by the teacher; it is his first duty to
ascertain the qualifications of his pupils. I am, however, led to the
opinion that the schools of the country have already laid a very good
basis for practical instruction in agriculture; and, if this be not so,
then an additional argument will be offered for the most rapid advance
possible in our systems of education. In any event, it is true that the
public schools furnish a large part of the intellectual culture given in
the inferior and intermediate agricultural schools of Europe.

The great defect in the plan I have presented is this: That no means are
provided for the thorough education needed by those persons who are to
be appointed agents, and no provision is made for testing the qualities
of soils, and the elements of grains, grasses, and fruits. My answer to
this suggestion is, that it is in part, at least, well founded; but that
the scientific schools furnish a course of study in the natural sciences
which must be satisfactory to the best educated farmer or professor of
agricultural learning, and that analyses may be made in the laboratories
of existing institutions.

It is my fortune to be able to read a letter from Professor Horsford,
which furnishes a satisfactory view of the ability of the Scientific
School at Cambridge.


                                       "_Cambridge, Sept. 19, 1857._

"MY DEAR SIR: The occupation incident to the opening of the term has
prevented an earlier answer to your letter of inquiry in regard to the
Scientific School.

"The Scientific School furnishes, I believe, the necessary scientific
knowledge for students of agriculture (such as you mention), 'who have
been well educated at our high schools, academies, or colleges, and have
also been trained practically in the business of farming.' It provides:

"1st. Practical instruction in the modes of experimental investigation.
This is, I know, an unrecognized department, but it is, perhaps, the
better suited name to the course of instruction of our chemical
department. It qualifies the student for the most direct methods of
solving the practical problems which are constantly arising in practical
agriculture. It includes the analysis of soils, the manufacture and
testing of manures, the philosophy of improved methods of culture, of
rotation of crops, of dairy production, of preserving fruits, meats, &c.
It applies more or less directly to the whole subject of mechanical
expedients.

"2d. Practical instruction in surveying, mensuration, and drawing.

"3d. And by lectures--in botany, geology, zoology, comparative anatomy,
and natural philosophy.

"Some of them--indeed, all of them, if desired--might be pursued
practically, and with the use of apparatus and specimens.

"This course contemplates a period of study of from one year to two and
a half years, according to the qualification of the pupil at the outset.
He appears an hour each day at the blackboard, where he shares the drill
of a class, and where he acquires a facility of illustration, command of
language, an address and thorough consciousness of real knowledge, which
are of more value, in many cases, as you know, than almost any amount of
simple acquisition. He also attends, on an average, about one lecture a
day throughout the year. During the remaining time he is occupied with
experimental work in the laboratory or field.

"The great difficulty with students of agriculture, who might care to
come to the Scientific School, is the expense of living in Cambridge. If
some farmer at a distance of three or four miles from college, where
rents for rooms are low, would open a boarding-house for students of
agriculture in the Scientific School, where the care of a kitchen garden
and some stock might be intrusted to them, and where a farmer's plain
table might be spread at the price at which laborers would be received,
we might hope that our facilities would be taken advantage of on a
larger scale. As it is, but few, comparatively, among our students, come
to qualify themselves for farming."

I should, however, consider the arrangements proposed as temporary, and
finally to be abandoned or made permanent, as experience should dictate.

It may be said, I think, without disparagement to the many distinguished
and disinterested men who have labored for the advancement of
agriculture, that the operations of the government and of the state and
county societies have no plan or system by which, as a whole, they are
guided. The county societies have been and are the chief means of
influence and progress; but they have no power which can be
systematically applied; their movements are variable, and their annual
exhibitions do not always indicate the condition of agriculture in the
districts represented. They have become, to a certain extent, localized
in the vicinity of the towns where the fairs are held; and yet they do
not possess the vigor which institutions positively local would enjoy.

The town clubs hold annual fairs; and these fairs should be made
tributary, in their products and in the interest they excite, to the
county fairs. Let the town fairs be held as early in the season as
practicable, and then let each town send to the county fairs its
first-class premium articles as the contributions of the local society,
as well as of the individual producers. Thus a healthful and generous
rivalry would be stirred up between the towns of a county as well as
among the citizens of each town; and a county exhibition upon the plan
suggested would represent at one view the general condition of
agriculture in the vicinity. No one can pretend that this is
accomplished by the present arrangements. Moreover, the county society,
in its management and in its annual exhibitions, would possess an
importance which it had not before enjoyed. As each town would be
represented by the products of the dairy, the herd, and the field, so it
would be represented by its men; and the annual fair of the county would
be a truthful and complete exposition of its industrial standing and
power.

Out of a system thus broad, popular, and strong, an agricultural college
will certainly spring, if such an institution shall be needed. But is it
likely that in a country where the land is divided, and the number of
farmers is great, the majority will ever be educated in colleges, and
upon strict scientific principles? I am ready to answer that such an
expectation seems to me a mere delusion. The great body of young farmers
must be educated by the example and practices of their elders, by their
own efforts at individual and mutual improvement, and by the influence
of agricultural journals, books, lecturers, and the example of
thoroughly educated men. And, as thoroughly educated men, lecturers,
journals, and books of a proper character, cannot be furnished without
the aid of scientific schools and thorough culture, the farmers, as a
body, are interested in the establishment of all institutions of
learning which promise to advance any number of men, however small, in
the mysteries of the profession; but, when we design a system of
education for a class, common wisdom requires us to contemplate its
influence upon each individual. The influence of a single college in any
state, or in each state of this Union, would be exceedingly limited; but
local societies and travelling lecturers could make an appreciable
impression in a year upon the agricultural population of any state, and
in New England the interest in the subject is such that there is no
difficulty in founding town clubs, and making them at once the agents of
the government and the schools for the people.

In the plan indicated, I have, throughout, assumed the disposition of
the farmers to educate themselves. This assumption implies a certain
degree of education already attained; for a consciousness of the
necessity of education is only developed by culture, learning, and
reflection. Such being the admitted fact, it remains that the farmers
themselves ought at once to institute such means of self-improvement as
are at their command. They are, in nearly every state of this Union, a
majority of the voters, and the controlling force of society and the
government; but I do not from these facts infer the propriety of a
reliance on their part upon the powers which they may thus direct.
However wisely said, when first said, it is not wise to "look to the
government for too much;" and there can be no reasonable doubt of the
ability of the farmers to institute and perfect such measures of
self-education as are at present needed. But the spirit in which they
enter upon this work must be broad, comprehensive, catholic. They will
find something, I hope, of example, something of motive, something of
power, in their experience as friends and supporters of our system of
common school education; and something of all these, I trust, in the
facts that this system is kept in motion by the self-imposed taxation of
the whole people; that all individuals and classes of men, forgetting
their differences of opinion in politics and religion, rally to its
support, as being in itself a safe basis on which may be built whatever
structures men of wisdom and virtue and piety may desire to erect,
whether they labor first and chiefly for the world that is, or for that
which is to come.

FOOTNOTE:

[10] Hon. George S. Hillard.




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COUSIN FANNIE'S JUVENILE BOOKS.

EVERY BEGINNING IS EASY FOR CHILDREN WHO LOVE STUDY. Translated from the
German, by COUSIN FANNIE. Largo quarto, with elegantly colored
lithographic plates. Price $1.00.

Altogether one of the most attractive books, both in matter and style,
ever issued in this country.

AUNTY WONDERFUL'S STORIES. Translated from the German, by COUSIN FANNIE.
With spirited lithographic illustrations. It has proved immensely
popular among the little folks. Price 75 cents.

RED BEARD'S STORIES FOR CHILDREN. Translated from the German, by COUSIN
FANNIE.

The illustrations for this book are of a most novel and taking
character. They are in imitation of the _silhouettes_ or pictures cut
out by scissors, in which our ancestors' portraits have often been
preserved. The pictures are numerous, spirited and effective. The
stories are worthy of their elegant dress. Price 75 cents.

BRIGHT PICTURES OF CHILD-LIFE. Translated from the German, by COUSIN
FANNIE. Illustrated by numerous highly-finished colored engravings.
Price 75 cents.


VIOLET; A Fairy Story. Illustrated by Billings. Price 50 cents; gilt, 75
cents.

The publishers desire to call attention to this exquisite little story.
It breathes such a love of Nature in all her forms; inculcates such
excellent principles, and is so full of beauty and simplicity, that it
will delight not only children, but all readers of unsophisticated
tastes. The author seems to teach the gentle creed which Coleridge has
embodied in those familiar lines--


     "He prayeth well who loveth well
     Both man, and bird, and beast."


DAISY; or the Fairy Spectacles. By the author of "VIOLET." Illustrated.
Price 50 cents; gilt, 75 cents.

THE GREAT ROSY DIAMOND. By MRS. ANNE AUGUSTA CARTER With illustrations
by Billings. Price 50 cents; gilt 75 cents.

This is a most charming story, from an author of reputation in this
department, both in England and America. The machinery of Fairy Land is
employed with great ingenuity; the style is beautiful, imaginative, yet
simple. The frolics of Robin Goodfellow are rendered with the utmost
grace and spirit.

TALES FROM SHAKSPEARE. Designed for the Use of Young Persons. By CHARLES
LAMB. From the fifth London edition. 12mo. Illustrated. Price, bound in
muslin, $1.00; gilt, $1.50.

These tales are intended to interest children and youth in some of the
plays of Shakspeare. The form of the dialogue is dropped, and instead
the plots are woven into stories, which are models of beauty. What
Hawthorne has lately done for the classical mythology, Lamb has here
done for Shakspeare.


PUBLISHED BY
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., Boston,
And for sale by all Booksellers in the United States.


JUVENILE BOOKS.


THE ROLLO BOOKS. By REV. JACOB ABBOTT. In fourteen volumes. New edition,
with finely executed engravings from original designs by Billings. Price
$7; single, 50 cents, Any volume sold separately.


     Rollo Learning to Talk.
     Rollo Learning to Read.
     Rollo at Work.
     Rollo at Play.
     Rollo at School.
     Rollo's Vacation.
     Rollo's Experiments.
     Rollo's Museum.
     Rollo's Travels.
     Rollo's Correspondence.
     Rollo's Philosophy--Water.
     Rollo's Philosophy--Fire.
     Rollo's Philosophy--Air.
     Rollo's Philosophy--Sky.


This is undoubtedly the most popular series of juvenile books ever
published in America. This edition is far more attractive externally
than the one by which the author first became known. Nearly one hundred
new engravings, clear and fine paper, a new and beautiful cover, with a
neat box to contain the whole, will give to this series, if possible, a
still wider and more enduring reputation.

The same, without illustrations, fourteen volumes, muslin, $5.25.


EXCELSIOR GIFT BOOKS.

Six volumes, large 16mo., illustrated. Price, in cloth, 75 cents per
volume; gilt, $1.00.


     Christmas Roses.
     Favorite Story Book.
     Little Messenger Birds.
     The Ice King.
     Youth's Diadem.
     Juvenile Keepsake.


A beautiful series of books, and universally popular.


VACATION STORY BOOKS.

Six volumes, with fine wood engravings. Price, in cloth, 50 cents per
volume; gilt, 75 cents.


     Estelle's Stories about Dogs.
     The Cheerful Heart.
     Little Blossom's Reward.
     Holidays at Chestnut Hill.
     Country Life.
     The Angel Children.


A series of stories that will give unfailing entertainment and
instruction.


JUVENILE STORY BOOKS.

Seven volumes, illustrated. Price, in cloth, 37 1-2 cents per volume:
gilt, 50 cents.


     Aunt Mary's Stories.
     Gift Story Book.
     Good Child's Fairy Gift.
     Frank and Fanny.
     Country Scenes and Characters.
     Peep at the Animals.
     Peep at the Birds.


LITTLE MARY; or, Talks and Tales for Children. By H. TRUSTA. Beautifully
printed and finely illustrated. 16mo. Price, muslin, 60 cents; muslin,
full gilt, 88 cents.

UNCLE FRANK'S BOYS' AND GIRLS' LIBRARY. A beautiful series, comprising
six volumes, square 16mo., with eight tinted Engravings in each volume.
The following are their titles respectively;


     I. The Pedler's Boy; or, I'll be Somebody.
     II. The Diving Bell; or, Pearls to be sought for.
     III. The Poor Organ Grinder; and other Stories.
     IV. Loss and Gain; or, Susy Lee's Motto.
     V. Mike Marble; his Crotchets and Oddities.
     VI. The Wonderful Letter Bag of Kit Curious.


By FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. Price, bound in muslin, 50 cents per volume;
muslin, gilt, 75 cents per volume.

Catalogues of the publications P. S. & Co. sent, post paid, upon
application.


PUBLISHED BY
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., Boston,
And for sale by all Booksellers in the United States.







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