_Life of Horace Mann._ By his Wife. Boston: Walker, Fuller &
Co.
The American readers of Mr. Spencer's "Social Statics" have raised their
eyes in wholesome wonderment at the condemnation which is there found of
all systems of national education. It is unfortunate that a writer who
has given effective presentation to many truths should have failed to
scrutinize his inductions by the light of certain ascertainable facts.
The presumed requirements of a system caused him to prejudge what should
have been investigated; and hence, upon the great theme of state
education his rare illuminating powers shed a few side-lights of
suggestion, and nothing more. The rough common sense of our humblest
citizen disperses the philosopher's subtilties of logic with some such
decisive sentence as that with which Dr. Johnson cut the meshes of the
Fate-argument, or President Lincoln carried the pious defences of
man-stealing. "We know we're free, and there's an end on 't." "If
slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong." If the state has no right to
educate, it has no right to protect itself from the assaults of
ignorance, and consequently no right to exist at all. This, to be sure,
is dogmatism; but with loyal Americans to-day it comes so near being a
moral instinct that it may be provisionally assumed and tested at
leisure by the experience to which it has conducted us. In the crisis
through which the nation has just passed, education as a state
expediency has received its fullest vindication. The people whom the
state educated up to an appreciation of the republican idea arose to be
its saviours. No magnetism of personal leadership was given them. It was
the instructed sense of the community which overcame the perils of
faction and the incompetence of chiefs. And now, while we gratefully
recognize those who at the critical moment fell or suffered or wrought
for the Republic, let us not forget the unapplauded heroism which in
time past laboriously accumulated the force lately revealed in many
manly acts. The Trent Catechism declares that a final judgment is
necessary, in order that the bad may be punished for the evil which in
future time results from their mortal acts. If it may be held,
conversely, that the conduct of the good is entitled to ever-increasing
honor, we think it well that the biography of Horace Mann, educator and
statesman, has been withheld to this day. It is nobly prophetic of the
perfected faith in popular government and universal liberty which fills
our hearts. It is in deep accordance with the psalm of victory which
rises from loyal lips.
The present volume supplies materials for filling up the admirable
outline of Mr. Mann's life which appeared in Livingston's "Law Journal,"
and was copied in other publications. For it must necessarily be
materials for the study of a majestic character, rather than any
critical _dicta_ concerning it, that Mrs. Mann can offer us. And this is
not to be regretted. The judgments of an impartial biographer would have
been dearly purchased at the sacrifice of that sweetest testimony of
household reverence which only the most intimate relation can supply.
The little glimpses of Horace Mann, with his children about him, are
worth many discriminating estimates of services and judicial
investigations into the merits of forgotten controversies. We are made
fully acquainted with the noble spirit in which he labored, and this is
a better bequest to the American people than even the noble results it
brought to pass. Poor enough seems any halting, sentimental interest in
human well-being in the presence of that sturdy life, throbbing with
executive energy, and dignified by thorough disinterestedness.
Horace Mann was born into the narrow circumstances of a small New
England farm. His father died when he was still a boy. The educational
opportunities offered by the poorest district of the little town of
Franklin, Massachusetts, were meagre enough. Knowledge in the husk was
thrown before the pupils, who were allowed the privilege of picking out
what they might. The training which stimulates memory had not given
place to that which encourages thought. In spite of all obstructions,
Horace displayed an irrepressible love of learning, and obtained that
sort of education which was probably the best possible for the work he
had to do. For it was from vividly realizing the hindrances which he had
the strength partially to surmount that he was able to adjust the means
for their removal. His youth was far from being a happy one. The poverty
of his parents subjected him to continual privation, and the remorseless
logic of the current theology weighed upon his sensitive spirit. Having
obtained the consent of his guardian to prepare for college, he entered
Brown University in 1816. His graduating oration was upon the
progressive character of the human race,--a subject prophetic of his
subsequent mission. A tutorship of the Latin and Greek languages gave
the opportunity to perfect himself in classical culture. Afterwards he
studied law, and in 1823 was admitted to the Norfolk bar. From this time
his life was devoted to the welfare of the ignorant and unfortunate. As
a leading member of the State Legislature, both in the House and
afterwards as President of the Senate, Mr. Mann took an active part in
forwarding measures relating to public charities and education. The
establishment of the State Insane Hospital at Worcester was wholly due
to his vigorous advocacy. In 1837 he retired from the distinguished
professional and political career that was opening before him, and
devoted his rare abilities to the service of common schools. As
Secretary of the Massachusetts Board of Education, he effected a
thorough reform in the school system of the State. Of the unexampled
labor and self-denial of eleven successive years his Annual Reports and
the "Common School Journal" are noble, though inadequate memorials. In
1848 Mr. Mann was sent to Congress as successor to John Quincy Adams.
Here his powers were at once concentrated in resisting the usurpations
of Slavery. Two years later came his memorable collision with Mr.
Webster. In opposing the doctrines of the famous 7th of March speech,
and in his subsequent criticism of its author, Mr. Mann well knew the
bitter judgments he would provoke and the social position he must
sacrifice. He counted the cost and accepted the duty. Insight lent him
the fire with which foresight kindled the prophets. He saw in the slave
system those inner depths of cruelty and baseness which Andersonville
and Port Hudson have lately revealed. At the ensuing election in
November, Mr. Mann's renomination was defeated in the Whig Convention.
Appealing to the people as an independent candidate, he was re-elected
to Congress, and there served until he was offered the Presidency of
Antioch College in 1852. The toil, the perseverance, the
self-renunciation which associate Mr. Mann with Antioch are too great
for conventional phrases of eulogy. Whether judged by the mighty things
he accomplished, or by the harmonious development of the moral,
intellectual, and affectional nature which he displayed, there are few
human records which show an appreciation of duty so exhaustive united to
a performance so heroic.
The life of Horace Mann was full of severe work. Few men have had the
grace to return so uncompromising an answer to the question whether
their service was to be rendered to God or Mammon. He had the gift of
separating religion from its accidental trappings, and of recognizing in
the simplest intuition of accountability for our neighbor's welfare the
best working hypothesis. Like Theodore Parker, he excelled the common
citizen, not in reach of skepticism, but in might of faith. His was
never that gentlemanly sort of virtue which devotes unoccupied corners
of the being, as it were in decorative fashion, to the interests of
humanity. He would toil patiently at the humblest crank-work, content to
move puppets who received whatever public credit was to be had. Mr. Mann
abandoned a political career that was calculated to satisfy a generous
ambition, to take the newly created office of Secretary of the Board of
Education, unassociated with dignity or emolument. "If the position is
not honorable now," he replied to the remonstrances of a friend, "then
it is clearly for me to elevate it; and I would rather be creditor than
debtor to the title." He combined in a rare degree the working powers of
the enthusiast with the balance of the philosopher. He wrought at
high-pressure, yet looked to no immediate or showy success. "If no seed
were ever sown save that which would promise the requital of a full
harvest, how soon would mankind revert to barbarism!" The exclamation
was with him no disregarded truism.
Mr. Mann's views of the true ends to be sought in our systems of
education receive daily confirmation. Burying the mind under a heap of
ready-made generalizations may give a conceit of knowledge, amusing or
dangerous as the case may be, but never gives the "power" promised in
the aphorism. When Montaigne said that he would rather forge his mind
than furnish it, he suggested the true principle of education. The
problem is not to fill the mind from without, but to give the most
efficient aid to its efforts to form itself from within. The energies
that Mr. Mann put forth for the direction and government of Antioch
College, his noble sacrifices far exceeding the requirements that could
justly be demanded at his hands, not only show his lofty and resolute
nature, but clearly exhibit the substantial _animus_ of the scheme of
instruction he had at heart. While fully recognizing the intimate
connection between physical organization and mental phenomena, he never
doubted our inherent ability to subdue the animal nature, and considered
that a recognizable effort so to do should be an essential condition of
intellectual culture. The great features of the institution for which he
sacrificed his life were, an unsectarian basis, and instruction to woman
as well as man. The touching narrative shows how broad and firm was the
foundation upon which he built. The glory of Horace Mann the educator
culminates in this: he proved that without dogma or formulary the tone
of a large body of students might be unusually religious and their
conduct unusually moral; and also, that the properly guarded intercourse
of young men and young women engaged in the pursuit of knowledge might
be elevating and beneficial to both.
The present volume furnishes a just conception of Mr. Mann's remarkable
character. We see a human life consistently governed by the highest
human instincts. Yet if shortcomings there were, they may be found, or
inferred, by those who will look for them. Mr. S. J. May thinks it not
judicious to publish certain letters that Mr. Mann addressed to him,
lest they should injure their author's fame with some good men. But the
controlling sincerity of the biographer will not permit her to withhold
them. In the never-ending battle between the theoretically right and
what to mortal vision seems the practically expedient, Horace Mann for a
moment inclines to the latter. He fears that Mr. May will peril his
usefulness as Principal of the Lexington Normal School by an open
connection with the Abolitionists. He urges the duty of considering the
consequences of our acts: as if we could weigh, or in any manner
estimate, the eternal consequences of the least of them; as if all
history did not show us that the temporary loss of influence, of
usefulness, the sacrifice of life itself, was necessary to the
incorporation of a higher truth with the existing intelligence of men
and the means of its final triumph in the world. But Mr. Mann's own
brave career was never deflected by the sophistries of the timid. He
never doubted that he best influenced the whole by fulfilling the
highest law of his individual life. What other faith could sustain him,
when his exhausting labors were not rewarded by a recognized success in
any way commensurate with their desert? Yet no one ever saw him when the
luminous quality of his spiritual nature was clouded, or the special
stimulus to use his powers to the utmost was withdrawn.
Few recipes for comfortable living are to be gathered from such a story.
Vainly we ask for a little repose upon our pilgrimage along those
sublime heights of holy exertion whither that example leads us. We
examine the chronicle of labor and privation, if haply we may find some
paragraph wherein the philanthropist dines out or goes to the theatre.
But the solemn claims of humanity are always in his keeping, and we must
get inured as we may to his rigorous stewardship. And it is by the grace
of such exceptional men that our country is to become less the paradise
of charlatanry, and better to deserve the title of Model Republic. They
draw the poison from that current philosophy which maintains that the
intellect of man has always led the way in social advancement, his moral
nature being subordinate thereto. Not as the sum of past forces, but by
his own inherent moral life, does Horace Mann fill these pages. It is a
sterling biography, which no educated American can afford not to read.
It is only partial praise to call the book deeply interesting. It
vivifies and inspires.
_The Gentle Life_. Essays in Aid of the Formation of
Character. London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston.
The title of this book constitutes its chief, we had almost said its
sole, claim to consideration. We open its pleasant-looking pages with
pleasant memories of Charles Lamb and Leigh Hunt, and pleasant
anticipations, not of brilliancy, indeed, nor trenchant truth, but of
medicine for our weariness, a moment of quiet in the rush and whirl of
things, a breath of repose from over the sea to cool and tranquillize
these fervid days of ours. We are tranquillized, indeed! We find
ourselves straightway in a desert, stuck full of flowers, it is true,
from innumerable gardens, but a desert still: for the unhappy exotics
have suffered so severely in the transportation as to be scarcely able
to hold up their heads, and, where they still preserve their original
beauty, only serve to throw into stronger relief the surrounding
sterility. It is a medley of dismal platitudes; truths which have been
truisms for at least a century, uttered with all the pomp and
circumstance of newly discovered laws; quotations garbled, pointless, or
dipped in a feeble venom; shreds of learning pieced together, with or
without adaptation, in a nondescript patchwork; the fragments of a
thousand feasts huddled into one pot, simmered over a slow fire, and
served up as a pretty dish to set before a king.
The uniformity of the book is wonderful. It is always heavy. Its
falsehood is insipid. Its very malice has no pungency. It is dull even
where it hates. Now and then we stumble on a paragraph which starts up
from the dead level around it, glowing with real fire; but at the end we
are sure to find that it is translated from Victor Hugo or transferred
from Emerson; and generally these borrowed plumes are so torn and
bedraggled in their clumsy removal that the very bird they grew on would
scarcely recognize them. There is no intentional, no malign
maltreatment, to give us the relief of a real indignation; but we are
kept in a state of constant irritation by a series of petty
encroachments upon the integrities of literature. There is no law
compelling a man to garnish his speech with floating verse; but if he
choose to do so, he should make a point of presenting it in its true
form. At the very least, if he must garble, let him garble rhythmically,
and not add splay feet to spoiled force. One may not have a poetic taste
or a musical ear; but if he has fingers and toes, he need not say,
"Yet I doubt not through ages one increasing purpose runs."
It is utter demoralization to write "pride in his port and fire in his
eye." Indeed, the singular fatality which attends these quotations has
something of the sublime. If a sentiment _can_ be reproduced with all
its sparkle extinguished, our Gentle Man is the one to do it. Diffuse
everywhere else, he is compact in erring, and crowds more mistakes into
a paragraph than are often met on a page. He says incidentally, "Lord
Byron wrote a very pretty song, conveying the idea in its refrain 'that
the day of my destiny _is_ over, the star of my hope has declined.' Now
it is not a song, as he uses the word; the idea, if it is an idea, is
not in the refrain; there is no refrain in the piece; and there is
nothing said in the piece about the star of his hope. Lord Burleigh's
fulsome she-fool is euphemized into an irksome female fool, and Lord
Byron _jumped up_ one morning and found himself famous. We are informed
that nothing
"Can ennoble slaves, or fools, or cowards";
and that
"My days are in the yellow leaf,
The flowers and the fruit are gone";
Burton was pleasing himself with _phantasies_ sweet; Addison wedded
_misery_ in a noble wife; Wolsey had nothing more pathetic to say than
"Had I served my God as I served my King, He would not now have deserted
me"; and _King James_, contrary to all historic tradition and all the
probabilities of the case, "never said a foolish thing and never did a
wise one."