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 Muraena 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 preeminence 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 preeminence 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.