crowded down-town street--he selected in the suburbs of the city the
site for his great institution; and, as he accumulated the necessary
funds, he bought at intervals lot after lot at the intersection of Third
and Fourth Avenues, until he had acquired the entire block, paying for
his latest purchases (made after the neighborhood had been solidly built
up and had become a centre of business) very high prices compared with
those he had paid at the beginning. At last (in 1854) he commenced the
erection of a six-story fire-proof building of stone, brick, and iron.
This work occupied several years, and during its progress a period of
great financial distress threatened to interrupt it. But he persisted in
the undertaking, at great risk to his private business; and the building
was finished at a cost (including that of the land) of more than six
hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Subsequent gifts from Mr. Cooper,
together with the legacy provided by his will, and doubled by his heirs,
and still later donations from his family and immediate relatives, make
up a total of more than double that amount.[7]
Up to the time when the building was completed Mr. Cooper had taken
little advice as to the details of his project. Its outlines in his mind
were those which he had conceived a quarter-century before, and though
he was doubtless conscious that new social and industrial conditions had
intervened which would require some modifications of his plan, he had
not formulated such changes.
The classes which he wished especially to reach were those who, being
already engaged in earning a living by labor, could scarcely be expected
to take regular courses in instruction; and the idea of such instruction
appears to have been at the beginning subordinate in his mind. He had a
strong impression that young mechanics and apprentices, instead of
wasting their time in dissipation, should improve their minds during the
intervals of labor; and not unnaturally his first thought as to the
means of such improvement turned to those things which had aroused and
stimulated his own mind. Probably he did not realize that the mass of
men were not like himself, and that something more than mere suggestion
or opportunity would be required to develop the mental powers and
enlarge the knowledge of the average workingman. However that may be,
the original vague design of Mr. Cooper was something like this:--
There was in the city of New York a famous collection of curiosities
known as Scudder's Museum. Barnum's Museum afterwards took its place;
but that, too, has long since disappeared; and the small so-called
museums now scattered through the city but faintly remind old
inhabitants of the glories of Scudder's or Barnum's in their prime.
These establishments contained all sorts of curiosities, arranged
without much reference to scientific use,--wax-works, historical relics,
dwarfs, giants, living and stuffed animals, etc. There was also a
lecture-room, devoted principally to moral melodrama; and on an upper
floor a large room was occupied by the cosmorama,--an exhibition of
pictures, usually of noteworthy scenery, foreign cities, etc., which
were looked at through round holes, enhancing the effect of their
illumination.
Peter Cooper doubtless often lingered in these museums, receiving the
inspiration which came from visions of a world much wider than his
individual horizon, from the curious and wonderful works of nature, and
from the works of man in former times and in foreign lands. From the
queer mechanical devices exhibited by inventors to the "Happy Family"
and the cosmorama, everything was full to his quick sympathy of
intellectual, moral, or sentimental suggestion; and no doubt he felt,
after an hour of such combined wonder and reflection, a satisfying sense
of time well spent.
He wished that this means of mental improvement and recreation combined
might be freely afforded to those whose scanty earnings would not permit
them otherwise to make frequent use of it, and he resolved that the
museum and the cosmorama should be included in his institution.
Another agency of which Mr. Cooper had made fruitful use, and the
efficacy of which he highly appreciated, was conversation and debate. If
people could be brought together and made to talk he thought they would
learn a great deal from each other. In this he had undoubtedly grasped
one of the great principles of progress. To meet and interchange our
ideas of books and by personal discussions is indeed the mightiest
factor of modern improvement. But the mere meeting to talk _about_
things unless it is combined with the disposition and the apparatus for
_studying_ things is but barter without production, and may degenerate
to a barren exchange of words, as unprofitable as that described in the
Yankee proverb, "swapping jackknives in a garret." This aspect of the
truth Mr. Cooper doubtless came to appreciate; but at the outset,
habituated as he was to get ideas from everybody he met and everything
he saw, it seemed to him that free discussions would be an unmixed
benefit to all, and he resolved that his institution should contain
rooms, devoted to the several handicrafts, where the practitioners of
each could meet and "exchange views."
It was also his intention that the lower part of the building he erected
should be occupied by stores and offices, the annual rent of which
should pay the running expenses of the institution. In the course of
time the Cooper Union came to need for full efficiency both more money
than this source would supply and more room than was left to it after
subtracting the rooms thus rented. These needs have now been met in some
measure by further endowments, so that before long the whole building
will be devoted to educational uses. But the wisdom, at that time, of
Mr. Cooper's plan has been vindicated by the great work done with the
modest means thus provided.
The building of the Cooper Union represented his original ideas. Above
the shops and offices to be rented was an immense room intended for the
museum. A large part of the building was cut up into small meeting-rooms
for the conferences of the trades; in an upper story another great room
was provided for the cosmorama; and the flat roof was to be safely
inclosed with a balustrade, so that on pleasant days or evenings the
frequenters of the institution might sit or promenade there, partake of
harmless refreshments, listen to agreeable music,[8] and enjoy the
magnificent prospect of the city below,--the heights beyond the East
River on one side, the Hudson on the other, and the magnificent
island-studded harbor.
A noteworthy feature of this scheme was the complete obliteration of all
distinctions of class, creed, race, or sex among its beneficiaries. It
is a significant fact that through nearly half a century, while these
distinctions have been the subjects of vehement and sometimes bitter
social and political discussion, the Cooper Union has gone quietly on
educating its thousands of pupils without the least embarrassment in its
discipline, and apparently without even the consciousness on the part of
its founder or its trustees that in this perfect solution of what was
supposed to be a difficult problem they had accomplished anything
extraordinary.
When Mr. Cooper, consulting with wise and practical advisers, addressed
himself at last to the final arrangement of details, he surrendered one
after another many parts of his youthful design. The name, "The Cooper
Union for the Advancement of Science and Art," epitomized this change.
His primary purpose was unchanged; but he perceived that systematic
education would be of more value to the class he sought to aid than mere
amusement or miscellaneous talk. The great free reading-room of the
Cooper Union was substituted for the museum; the conversation parlors
for the various trades became class-rooms for instruction; the cosmorama
yielded to lecture-halls and laboratories; and the roof was abandoned to
the weather. To all these changes, and to many other novelties adopted
afterwards, Mr. Cooper was reconciled by one conclusive argument;
namely, the proof afforded by their results that the Cooper Union was
giving to the working classes that which they needed most and most
desired. Now and then perhaps a sigh might escape him for the dream of
his youth. I remember one occasion when I accompanied him to the roof of
the building, where some new construction was going on which he wished
to inspect. The old man stood for some time admiring the view in all
directions, and at last, recalling how he had once imagined happy crowds
enjoying the delights of that "roof-garden," and casting a mournful
glance at the central spot where the band was to have been, he said,
"Sometimes I think my first plan was the best!"[9] But such regrets did
not occupy his mind. He was satisfied to know that the institution he
had founded, building better than he knew, had proved its fitness by its
success in the eager and grateful use made of it by those for whose
benefit it was intended and in the actual evidences of such benefit.
Every year managers of the different departments took pains to report to
him instances in which students already earning wages had increased
their earnings through the added knowledge or skill acquired in the
evening classes; and this was the feature of the annual statements upon
which he dwelt with the greatest satisfaction.
The charter of the Cooper Union was finally adopted in its present form
by the legislature of the State of New York, April 13, 1859; and the
deed of trust, executed in compliance therewith, on the 29th day of the
same month, by Peter Cooper and his wife, Sarah, conveyed to the board
of trustees the title to "all that piece and parcel of land bounded on
the west by Fourth Avenue, on the north by Astor Place, on the east by
Third Avenue, and on the south by Seventh Street, . . . to be forever
devoted to the advancement of science and art, in their application to
the varied and useful purposes of life."
Even through this dry legal phraseology, it is not difficult to discern
the frank and simple joy of the patient enthusiast, who was at last able
to speak of the land which he had laboriously acquired, lot by lot,
through many years, and the building which he had raised, stone by
stone, through many more, as _one_ "piece or parcel," his to dedicate
forever.
The delivery of this deed to the board of trustees was accompanied with
a long letter, setting forth the wishes, hopes, and plans of the
grantor, in the formal and diffuse rhetoric peculiar to his generation,
and, perhaps, too much contemned by ours. To say the least, we are no
more warranted in despising the utterances of noble, self-sacrificing
philanthropists, because they are clothed in phrases now deemed verbose
and stilted, than we would be in disparaging the deeds of historic
heroes, because they wore armor now antiquated and struck their doughty
blows with weapons obsolete. When Peter Cooper wrote, in the letter now
before me, "The great object I desire to accomplish by the establishment
of an institution devoted to the advancement of science and art is to
open the volume of nature by the light of truth--so unveiling the laws
and methods of Deity that the young may see the beauties of creation,
enjoy its blessings, and learn to love the Being 'from whom cometh every
good and perfect gift,'"--he was not guilty of cant, because cant is the
use of language expressing an emotion which the user does not really
feel. And the same may be said of the elaborate additional exposition,
contained in this letter, of the writer's faith in God and man, and of
his confident hope in the future of his race, and particularly of his
country.
The letter shows some traces still of his original plan. Thus, he
writes:--
"In order most effectually to aid and encourage the efforts of youth to
obtain useful knowledge, I have provided the main floor of the large
hall on the third story for a reading-room, literary exchange, and
scientific collections--the walls around that floor to be arranged for
the reception of books, maps, paintings, and other objects of interest.
And when a sufficient collection of the works of art, science, and
nature can be obtained, I propose that glass cases shall be arranged
around the walls of the gallery of the said room, forming alcoves around
the entire floor for the preservation of the same. In the window spaces
I propose to arrange such cosmoramic and other views as will exhibit in
the clearest and most forcible light the true philosophy of life."
Other characteristic paragraphs are here quoted,--the whole letter being
too long for full republication.
"To manifest the deep interest and sympathy I feel in all that can
advance the happiness and better the condition of the female portion of
the community, and especially of those who are dependent on honest labor
for support, I desire the trustees to appropriate two hundred and fifty
dollars yearly to assist such pupils of the female school of design as
shall, in their careful judgment, by their efforts and sacrifices in the
performance of duty to parents or to those that Providence has made
dependent on them for support, merit and require such aid. My reason for
this requirement is not so much to reward as to encourage the exercise
of heroic virtues that often shine in the midst of the greatest
suffering and obscurity without so much as being noticed by the passing
throng.
"In order to better the condition of women and to widen the sphere of
female employment, I have provided seven rooms to be forever devoted to
a female school of design, and I desire the trustees to appropriate out
of the rents of the building fifteen hundred dollars annually towards
meeting the expenses of said school.
"It is the ardent wish of my heart that this school of design may be the
means of raising to competence and comfort thousands of those that might
otherwise struggle through a life of poverty and suffering. . . .
"Desiring, as I do, to use every means to render this institution useful
through all coming time, and believing that editors of the public press
have it in their power to exert a greater influence on the community for
good than any other class of men of equal number, it is therefore my
sincere desire that editors be earnestly invited to become members of
the society of arts to be connected with this institution. . . .
"It is my desire, also, that the students shall have the use of one of
the large rooms (to be assigned by the trustees) for the purpose of
useful debates. I desire and deem it best to direct that all these
lectures and debates shall be exclusive of theological and party
questions, and shall have for their constant object the causes that
operate around and within us, and the means necessary and most
appropriate to remove the physical and moral evils that afflict our
city, our country, and humanity." . . .
Other paragraphs indicate his plan that the students shall, in the first
instance, frame the rules which shall control the discipline of the
institution. Thus he says:--
"It is my desire, and I hereby ordain, that a strict conformity to rules
deliberately formed by a vote of the majority of the students, and
approved by the trustees, shall forever be an indispensable requisite
for continuing to enjoy the benefits of this institution. I now most
earnestly entreat each and every one of the students of this
institution, through all coming time, to whom I have intrusted this
great responsibility of framing laws for the regulation of their conduct
in their connection with the institution, and by which any of the
members may lose its privileges, to remember how frail we are, and how
liable to err when we come to sit in judgment on the faults of others,
and how much the circumstances of our birth, our education, and the
society and country where we have been born and brought up, have had to
do in forming us and making us what we are."
In this scheme Mr. Cooper anticipated the plan of self-government now
followed in some of our colleges; and while he expected too much of the
students of the Cooper Union, and was himself afterwards obliged to
consent to the restriction of their autonomy, it may be fairly said that
the spirit of his hope and exhortation has never ceased to be felt; and,
to the great honor of the Cooper Union, it may be recorded that
questions of discipline have been well-nigh unknown within its walls.
This noble trust was accepted by a body of men who have discharged it
with unwearied fidelity, zeal and wisdom. The original board consisted
of Mr. Cooper, his son Edward Cooper, his son-in-law Abram S. Hewitt,
and John E. Parsons, Wilson G. Hunt, and Daniel F. Tiemann. Three of
these, Messrs. Cooper, Hewitt, and Tiemann, have been mayors of the city
of New York. All of them were well-known and eminent citizens, burdened
with the duties of active business; and the time they gave so freely to
the management of the Cooper Union was not the superfluity of leisure.
The difficulty with "business men" too often is, that, when nominally
charged with the administration of organized charities, they slight the
work because they have not time to attend to it. But the United States
can show not a few instances in which the affairs of religious,
educational, or benevolent institutions are carefully managed by the
active directors of great private enterprises; and their management,
when it is thus thorough, is generally much better than that of literary
or philanthropic amateurs. This is conspicuously shown in the history of
the Cooper Union.[10]
This is not the place for a detailed account of the development of the
Cooper Union, or even of its present scope and prospective operations.
Such an account would worthily occupy a separate volume; for the
institution, in the hands of its wise directors, was a pioneer and model
in many respects in which later enterprises, with larger means, have,
perhaps, surpassed it. I must content myself here with brief mention of
a few particulars.
The immense free reading-room, with its average daily attendance of
nearly 1500 to 2000 persons, was Mr. Cooper's special delight; and well
it might be so; for the sight is one almost without a parallel--not in
the architecture, size, or furnishing of the place, but in the extent
and constancy of its use by the public. Entrance is free to all who are
not unclean, intoxicated, or disorderly. In the main, the privileges
thus given are not abused, but occasionally the evils almost inseparable
from so large an attendance have been felt. At one time, the curator
earnestly represented to the trustees the necessity of doing something
to check the mutilation of books--a practice which public librarians
know well as one of their most troublesome foes. It appeared that some
unknown persons, who combined a love of the beautiful in language with a
barbaric ignorance of it in conduct, were accustomed to slash out with
their penknives favorite passages of poetry for preservation, treating
in this matter newspapers and books alike. It was found difficult to
keep whole the volumes of Tennyson and Longfellow. But a more frequent
and injurious practice was the cutting out of plates from illustrated
books. This was not for love of art, as the other for love of poetry.
The object was to sell such engravings for two or three cents each to
the print-shops in the city, where they were bought by refined amateurs,
for the purpose of "illustrating" special volumes. This fashionable
hobby has been the indirect cause of the ruin of many a choice book; and
buyers of fine old editions are well aware that they must look well to
their bargains, lest they find that the thief, at the bidding of the
"collector," has plundered the volumes of the plates which once adorned
them.
When this subject came up for discussion in the board of trustees, Mr.
Cooper was so full of pity for the poor fellows, who were obliged to
sell stolen engravings at two cents a piece to keep body and soul
together, that he could scarcely be brought to take a severe view of the
offense. Nor was he willing (and in this his fellow-trustees agreed with
him) to impose any restriction or censorship upon admittance to the
reading-room. Even if the books suffered, the room must continue to be
free. The great mass of well-behaved people must not be annoyed by
measures intended to exclude a few rogues. The result vindicated the
sagacity, as well as the charity, of this view. The officers in charge,
not being permitted to adopt any sweeping measures of prevention, simply
redoubled their vigilance, and finally caught one or two offenders and
"made examples of them;" and the nuisance was immediately abated, though
perhaps not entirely and permanently abolished.
The report of 1900, after mentioning the great (legitimate) wear and
tear of the books, of which 12,000 had to be re-bound, adds:--
"The decorum of the visitors has been excellent, and it is remarkable,
in view of such a very large number of persons visiting the room, that
so few mutilations and injuries occur to the periodicals and books, and
that so few books, probably not more than half a dozen in the course of
a year, and those of small consequence, are stolen."
It seems then, after all, that Peter Cooper's faith in the people was
justified.
The great hall in the basement is another noteworthy feature, and worthy
of wider imitation than it has yet received. Such a hall, if located
upstairs in such a building, would have been open to three objections:
it would have monopolized, for occasional use only, space which was
required for constant use; it would have been intolerably noisy, by
reason of the roar and rattle in the streets which surround the building
on all sides; and it would have been dangerous, as all such places are,
when great audiences must make their exit by going down stairs. Nothing
has ever been invented that will prevent people from being crushed and
trampled when they are crowding down a stairway. In all these respects,
the great hall of the Cooper Union is admirable. It occupies space not
otherwise valuable. It is quiet, and acoustically perfect. The means of
exit and entrance are ample and safe. Even in case of an unreasoning
panic, there is little danger that a crowd, tumbling up the stone
stairways to the street, would cause the horrible maiming and killing
which so often attend the efforts of a frightened multitude to get down.
Finally, the ventilation is excellent, for the simple reason that
natural or automatic ventilation of such a large, low basement room
could not be expected, and consequently mechanical ventilation by means
of a large fan, run by steam power, was provided. The efficiency of this
system has sometimes been severely tested. On one occasion, during a
scientific lecture, the experimental illustrations of which were on a
large and imposing scale, the learned professor on the platform had the
misfortune to crack an immense glass jar, in which he was exhibiting the
brilliant combustion of phosphorus in oxygen gas. The white fumes of
phosphorous acid floated out into the air, and began to diffuse
themselves through the hall towards the ventilation outlets at the sides
and rear. To one who knew the irritating nature of these fumes it seemed
inevitable that the hall must be emptied of its crowded audience in a
few minutes. Already coughing had begun on the front seats, when Mr.
Hewitt, who was seated on the platform, quickly rose, and pulling a
cord, reversed the currents of ventilation and opened a new outlet into
the street, behind and above the platform. The curling clouds of vapor
paused, wheeled, and retreated, and in another minute the air was
perfectly pure. The lecturer had not even been interrupted. It was a
beautiful and timely "experiment" not on the programme, and, to use the
words of one who was present, "It was just the sort of thing to please
Peter Cooper to the bottom of his soul."