Chapter 15

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.