presently after, as we were not at all tired, we set off again for the
Sugarloaf, ten miles up the valley. We had a warm ride and a laborious
scramble up the Sugarloaf; but we were rewarded by a view which I think
finer than the one we saw in the morning, though not so various. It
commanded the whole valley with its entire circle of hills. White dots
of buildings on the hillsides spoke of civilization; Amherst, with its
red buildings, glowed in the sun; and the river below was of a dark
gray, presenting a perfect reflection of its fringed banks, of the
ox-team on the margin, and of boys fishing among the reeds. Smokes rose
where brush was burning, indicating the foundation of new settlements.
In one of these places which was pointed out to me an accident had
happened the preceding spring, which affords another hint of what the
hearts of emigrant mothers have sometimes to bear. A child of two years
old wandered away one afternoon from its parents' side, and was missing
when the day's work was done. The family and neighbours were out in the
woods for hours with torches, but they only lost their own way without
discovering the little one. In the morning it was found, at a
considerable distance from home, lying under a bush as if asleep. It was
dead, however: the cold of the night had seized it, and it was quite
stiff.
The sun set as we returned homeward with all speed, having to dress for
an evening party. While the bright glow was still lingering in the
valley, and the sky was beginning to melt from crimson to the pale
seagreen of evening, I saw something sailing in the air like a
glistening golden balloon. I called the attention of my party to it just
in time. It burst in a broad flash and shower of green fire. It was the
most splendid meteor I ever saw. We pitied a quiet-looking couple whom
we met jogging along in a dearborn, and whose backs had, of course, been
turned to the spectacle. They must have wondered at the staring and
commotion among our party. I saw an unusual number of falling-stars
before we reached home.
The parties, on all the three evenings when I was at Northampton, were
like the village parties throughout New-England. There was an over
proportion of ladies, almost all of whom were pretty and all well
dressed. There was a good deal of party spirit among the gentlemen, and
great complaints of religious bigotry from the ladies. One inhabitant of
the place, the son of a Unitarian clergyman, was going to leave it,
chiefly on account, he told me, of the treatment his family received
from their Calvinistic neighbours. While he was at home they got on
pretty well; but he had to go from home sometimes, and could not bear to
leave his wife to such treatment as she met with in his absence. This
was the worst case I heard of; but instances of a bigotry nearly as
outrageous reminded me painfully of similar cases of pious cruelty at
home. The manners towards strangers in these social meetings are
perfectly courteous, gay, and friendly. I had frequent occasion to
wonder why a foreign Unitarian was esteemed so much less dangerous a
person than a native.
There was endless amusement to me in observing village manners and ways
of thinking. Sometimes I had to wait for explanations of what passed
before my eyes, finding myself wholly at fault. At other times I was
charmed with the upright simplicity which villagers not only exhibit at
home, but carry out with them into the world.
In one Massachusetts village a large party was invited to meet me. At
teatime I was busily engaged in conversation with a friend, when the
teatray was brought to me by a young person in a plain white gown.
After I had helped myself, she still stood just before me for a long
while, and was perpetually returning. Again and again I refused more
tea, but she still came. Her pertinacity was afterward explained. It was
a young lady of the village who wished to see me, and knew that I was
going away the next day. She had called on the lady of the house in the
afternoon, and begged permission to come in a plain gown as a waiter.
She was, of course, invited as a guest, but she would not accept the
invitation, and she was allowed to follow her own fancy.
In another village I became acquainted with one of its most useful
residents, the schoolmaster, who has a passion for music, and is
organist of a church. It was delightful to hear him revelling in his own
music, pouring his soul out over his organ. He has been to Rome, and
indulged himself with listening to the Miserere. He told me that two
monks whom he met in Italy, before reaching Rome, saw him reading his
Bible, with a Commentary lying before him. In his own words,
"They told me I had better give over that. 'Give over what?' says I.
'Why, reading your Bible, with that book to help you.' 'Why shouldn't I
read in my own Bible?' says I. 'Because the pope won't like it,' said
they. 'In my humble opinion,' says I, 'it is far from plain what the
pope has to do with my duty and way of improving myself. It's no wish of
mine, I'm sure, to speak disrespectfully of the pope, or to interfere
with what he chooses to do in his own sphere; but I must save my own
soul in the way I think right.' Well, they talked about the Inquisition,
and would fain have made me believe I was doing what was very unsafe;
so, after a good deal more argument, I settled with myself what I would
do. When I got to Rome I put away the Commentary, thinking that that way
of reading was not necessary, and might be left to another time; but I
went on reading my Bible as usual.
"Well: when Passion Week came I took care to see all that was going
forward, and I was in the great square when the pope came out to give
the blessing. The square was as full as ever it could hold, and I stood
near the middle of it. I found all the people were about to go down on
their knees. Now, you know, it is against my principles altogether to go
down on my knees before the pope or any man; so I began to think what I
should do. I thought the right principle was to pay the same respect to
the pope that I would to any sort of chief ruler, but none, in
particular, on religious grounds; so I settled to do just what I should
do to the President of the United States. So, when the whole crowd
dropped on their knees in one moment, there I stood, all alone, in the
middle of the square. I knew the pope must see me, and the people about
him; but my hope was that the crowd would be so occupied with their own
feelings that they would not notice me. Not so, however. One looked at
me, and then another, and then it spread, till I thought that the whole
crowd was looking at nothing but me. Meantime I was standing with my
body bent--about this much--and my hat off, which I held so, above my
head. It happened the sun was very hot, and I got a bad headache with
keeping my head uncovered; but that was not worth minding. Well, I was
glad enough when the people all rose on their feet again. But it was by
no means over yet. The pope came down, and walked through the midst of
the people; and, as it happened, he came just my way. I was not sorry at
the prospect of getting a near view of him, so I just stood still till
he came by. The people kept dropping on their knees on either side of
him as he approached. Some of them tugged at me to do the same; but,
said I, 'Excuse me, I can't.' So, when the old pope came as near to me
as I am to you, he stopped, and looked full in my face, while I stood
bent, and my hat raised as before, and thinking within myself, 'Now,
sir, I am paying you the same respect I would show to the President of
the United States, and I can't show any more to any one:' so, after a
good look at me, the old gentleman went on and the people near seemed
soon to have forgotten all about me. And so I got off."
On the last day of my visit at Northampton I went into the graveyard.
Some of the inhabitants smiled at Mr. Bancroft for taking me there,
there being no fine monuments, no gardens and plantations, as in more
modern cemeteries; but there were things which my host knew I should
consider more interesting. There were some sunken, worn, mossy stones,
which bore venerable pilgrims' names and pious inscriptions. Several of
the original settlers lie here; and their graves, gay with a profusion
of the golden rod, and waving with long grass, are more interesting to
the traveller than if their remains reposed in a less primitive mode.
The stranger is taken by surprise at finding how much stronger are the
emotions excited among these resting-places of the pilgrims than by the
institutions in which their spirit still lives. Their spirit lives in
its faulty as well as its nobler characteristics. I saw here the grave
of a young girl, who was as much murdered by fanaticism as Mary Dyar,
who was hanged for her Antinomianism in the early days of the colony.
The young creature, whose tomb is scarcely yet grass-grown, died of a
brain fever brought on by a revival.
I happened to be going the round of several Massachusetts villages when
the marvellous account of Sir John Herschel's discoveries in the moon
was sent abroad. The sensation it excited was wonderful. As it professed
to be a republication from the Edinburgh Journal of Science, it was some
time before many persons, except professors of natural philosophy,
thought of doubting its truth. The lady of such a professor, on being
questioned by a company of ladies as to her husband's emotions at the
prospect of such an enlargement of the field of science, excited a
strong feeling of displeasure against herself. She could not say that he
believed it, and would gladly have said nothing about it; but her
inquisitive companions first cross-examined her, and then were angry at
her skepticism. A story is going, told by some friends of Sir John
Herschel (but whether in earnest or in the spirit of the moon story I
cannot tell), that the astronomer has received at the Cape a letter from
a large number of Baptist clergymen of the United States, congratulating
him on his discovery, informing him that it had been the occasion of
much edifying preaching and of prayer-meetings for the benefit of
brethren in the newly-explored regions; and beseeching him to inform his
correspondents whether science affords any prospects of a method of
conveying the Gospel to residents in the moon. However it may be with
this story, my experience of the question with regard to the other, "Do
you not believe it?" was very extensive.
In the midst of our amusement at credulity like this, we must remember
that the real discoveries of science are likely to be more faithfully
and more extensively made known in the villages of the United States
than in any others in the world. The moon hoax, if advantageously put
forth, would have been believed by a much larger proportion of any
other nation than it was by the Americans, and they are travelling far
faster than any other nation beyond the reach of such deception. Their
common and high schools, their lyceums and cheap colleges, are exciting
and feeding thousands of minds, which in England would never get beyond
the loom or the ploughtail. If few are very learned in the villages of
Massachusetts, still fewer are very ignorant; and all have the power and
the will to invite the learning of the towns among them, and to
remunerate its administration of knowledge. The consequence of this is a
state of village society in which only vice and total ignorance need
hang the head, while (out of the desolate range of religious bigotry)
all honourable tastes are as sure of being countenanced and respected as
all kindly feelings are of being reciprocated. I believe most
enlightened and virtuous residents in the villages of New-England are
eager to acknowledge that the lines have fallen to them in pleasant
places.
CAMBRIDGE COMMENCEMENT.
"A good way to continue their memories, while, having the advantage
of plural successions, they could not but act something remarkable
in such variety of being, and, enjoying the fame of their passed
selves, make accumulation of glory unto their last durations."
--SIR THOMAS BROWNE.
The Pilgrim Fathers early testified to the value of education. "When
New-England was poor, and they were but few in number, there was a
spirit to encourage learning." One of their primary requisitions, first
by custom and then by law, was, "That none of the brethren shall suffer
so much barbarism in their families as not to teach their children and
apprentices so much learning as may enable them perfectly to read the
English tongue." They next ordered, "To the end that learning may not be
buried in the graves of our forefathers, every township, after the Lord
hath increased them to the number of fifty householders, shall appoint
one to teach all children to write and read; and where any town shall
increase to the number of one hundred families, they shall set up a
grammar-school, the masters thereof being able to instruct youth so far
as they may be fitted for the University."
This university was Harvard. In 1636 the General Court had voted a sum
equal to a year's rate of the whole colony towards the erection of a
college. Two years afterward, John Harvard, who arrived at the
settlements only to die, left to the infant institution one half of his
estate and all his library. The state set apart for the college the rent
of a ferry. The wealthiest men of the community gave presents which were
thought profuse at the time, and beside their names in the record stand
entries of humbler gifts; from each family in the colonies twelvepence,
or a peck of corn, or an equivalent in wampum-peag; and from individuals
the sums of five shillings, nine shillings, one pound, and two pounds.
There were legacies also; from one colonist a flock of sheep; from
another cotton cloth worth nine shillings; from others a pewter flagon
worth ten shillings, a fruit-dish, a sugar-spoon, a silver-tipped jug,
one great salt, one small trencher salt. Afterward the celebrated
Theophilus Gale bequeathed his library to the college; and in 1731
Bishop Berkeley, after visiting the institution, presented it with some
of the Greek and Latin classics.
The year following John Harvard's bequest the Cambridge printing-press
was set up, the only press in America north of Mexico. The General Court
appointed licensers of this press, and did not scruple to interfere with
the licensers themselves when any suspicion of heresy occurred to
torment the minds of the worthy fathers. Their supervision over other
departments of management was equally strict. Mrs. Eaton, wife of the
first president of the college, was examined before the General Court on
a complaint of short or disagreeable commons urged by the students. "The
breakfast was two sizings of bread and a cue (or Q, _quartus_) of beer;
and the evening commons were a pye." What became of Mrs. Eaton, further
than that the blame of the dissensions rested on her bad housewifery, I
do not know. Subsequently a law was passed "for reforming the
extravagancies of commencements," by which it was provided that
"henceforth no preparation nor provision of either plumb cake, or
roasted, boyled, or baked meates or pyes of any kind shall be made by
any commencer;" no such was to have "any distilled lyquours in his
chamber, or any composition therewith," under the penalty of a
forfeiture of the good things, and a fine of twenty shillings. There was
another act passed, "that if any, who now doe or hereafter shall stand
for their degrees, presume to doe anything contrary to the said act, or
goe about to evade it by _plain_ cake, they shall forfeit the honours of
the college." Yet another law was passed to prohibit "the costly habits
of many of the scholars, their wearing gold or silver lace or brocades,
silk nightgowns, &c., as tending to discourage persons from giving their
children a college education, and as inconsistent with the gravity and
decency proper to be observed in this society."
For a hundred years after its establishment, Harvard College enforced
the practice, in those days common in Europe, of punishing refractory
students by corporeal infliction. In Judge Sewell's manuscript diary the
following entry is found, dated June 15, 1674: "This was his sentence
(Thos. Sargeant's):--
"That being convicted of speaking blasphemous words concerning the H. G.,
he should be therefore publickly whipped before all the scholars.
"That he should be suspended as to taking his degree of bachelor. (This
sentence read before him twice at the president's before the committee,
and in the library before execution.)
"Sit by himself in the hall uncovered at meals, during the pleasure of
the president and fellows, and being in all things obedient, doing what
exercise was appointed him by the president, or else be finally expelled
the college.
"The first was presently put in execution in the library before the
scholars. He kneeled down, and the instrument, Goodman Hely, attended
the president's word as to the performance of his part in the work.
Prayer was had before and after by the president."
In 1733 a tutor was prosecuted for inflicting this kind of punishment;
yet, in the revised body of laws made in the next year, we find the
following: "Notwithstanding the preceding pecuniary mulcts, it shall be
lawful for the president, tutors, and professors to punish
undergraduates by boxing, when they shall judge the nature or
circumstances of the offence call for it."
The times are not a little changed. Of late years the students have
more than once appeared to have almost come up to the point of boxing
their tutors.
If Harvard is ever to recover her supremacy, to resume her station in
usefulness and in the affections of the people, it must be by a
renovation of her management, and a change in some of the principles
recognised by her. Every one is eager to acknowledge her past services.
All American citizens are proud of the array of great men whom she has
sent forth to serve and grace the country; but, like some other
universities, she is falling behind the age. Her glory is declining,
even in its external manifestations; and it must decline as long as the
choicest youth of the community are no longer sent to study within her
walls.
The politics of the managers of Harvard University are opposed to those
of the great body of the American people. She is the aristocratic
college of the United States. Her pride of antiquity, her vanity of
pre-eminence and wealth, are likely to prevent her renovating her
principles and management so as to suit the wants of the period; and she
will probably receive a sufficient patronage from the aristocracy, for a
considerable time to come, to encourage her in all her faults. She has a
great name, and the education she affords is very expensive in
comparison with all other colleges. The sons of the wealthy will
therefore flock to her. The attainments usually made within her walls
are inferior to those achieved elsewhere, her professors (poorly
salaried, when the expenses of living are considered) being accustomed
to lecture and examine the students, and do nothing more. The indolent
and the careless will therefore flock to her. But, meantime, more and
more new colleges are rising up, and are filled as fast as they rise,
whose principles and practices are better suited to the wants of the
time. In them living is cheaper, and the professors are therefore richer
with the same or smaller salaries; the sons of the yeomanry and mechanic
classes resort to them; and, where it is the practice of the tutors to
work with their pupils, as well as lecture to them, a proficiency is
made which shames the attainments of the Harvard students. The middle
and lower classes are usually neither Unitarian nor Episcopalian, but
"orthodox," as their distinctive term is; and these, the strength and
hope of the nation, avoid Harvard, and fill to overflowing the oldest
orthodox colleges; and, when these will hold no more, establish new
ones.
When I was at Boston the state of the University was a subject of great
mourning among its friends. Attempts had been made to obtain the
services of three gentlemen of some eminence as professors, but in vain.
The salaries offered were insufficient to maintain the families of these
gentlemen in comfort, in such a place as Cambridge; though, at that very
time, the managers of the affairs of the institution were purchasing
lands in Maine. The Moral Philosophy chair had been vacant for eight
years. Two of the professors were at the time laid by in tedious
illnesses; a third was absent on a long journey; and the young men of
the senior class were left almost unemployed. The unpopularity of the
president among the young men was extreme, and the disfavour was not
confined to them. The students had, at different times within a few
years, risen against the authorities; and the last disturbances, in
1834, had been of a very serious character. Every one was questioning
what was to be done next, and anticipating a further vacating of chairs
which it would be difficult to fill. I heard one merry lady advise that
the professors should strike for higher wages, and thus force the
council and supporters of the university into a thorough and serious
consideration of its condition and prospects in relation to present and
future times.
The salary of the president is above 2000 dollars. The salaries of the
professors vary from 1500 dollars to 500; that is, from 375_l._ to
125_l._ Upon this sum they are expected to live like gentlemen, and to
keep up the aristocratic character of the institution. I knew of one
case where a jealousy was shown when a diligent professor, with a large
family, made an attempt by a literary venture to increase his means. Yet
Harvard College is in buildings, library, and apparatus, in its lands
and money, richer than any other in the Union.
The number of undergraduates in the years 1833-4 was two hundred and
sixteen. They cannot live at Harvard for less than 200 dollars a year,
independently of personal expenses. Seventy-five dollars must be
contributed by each to the current expenses; fuel is dear; fifteen
dollars are charged for lodging within the college walls, and eighty are
paid for board by those who use their option of living in the college
commons. The fact is, I believe, generally acknowledged, that the
comparative expensiveness of living is a cause of the depression of
Harvard in comparison with its former standing among other colleges;
but this leads to a supposition which does not to all appear a just one,
that if the expenses of poor students could be defrayed by a public
fund, to be raised for the purpose, the sons of the yeomanry would
repair once more to Harvard. A friend of the institution writes, with
regard to this plan,
"It would probably have the immediate effect of bringing back that,
perhaps, most desirable class of students, the sons of families in the
middling ranks in respect of property in town and country, who, we fear,
were driven away in great numbers by the change in the amount of tuition
fees in or about 1807. They mean to pay to the full extent that others
around them do for whatever they have. This is what they have been used
to doing. It is their habit; perhaps it is their point of honour; no
matter which. But they are obliged strictly to consult economy. And the
difference of an annual expense of twenty or thirty dollars, which their
fathers will have to spare from the profits of a farm or a shop, and
pinch themselves to furnish, is and ought to be, with such, a very
serious consideration. It is, in fact, a consideration decisive, year by
year, of the destination of numbers of youth to whom the country owes,
for its own sake, the best advantages of education it can afford; of
those who, in moral and intellectual structure, are the bone and sinew
of the commonwealth, and on all accounts, personal and public, entitled
to its best training."[3]
Footnote 3: Christian Examiner for September, 1834.
It may be doubted whether, if a gratis education to poor students were
to be dispensed from Harvard to-morrow, it would rival in real
respectability and proficiency the orthodox colleges which have already
surpassed her. Her management and population are too aristocratic, her
movement too indolent, to attract young men of that class; and young men
of that class prefer paying for the benefits they receive: they prefer a
good education, economically provided, so as to be within reach of their
means, to an equally good education furnished to them at the cost of
their pride of independence. The best friends of Harvard believe that it
is not by additional contrivances that her prosperity can be restored;
but by such a renovation of the whole scheme of her management as shall
bring her once more into accordance with the wants of the majority, the
spirit of the country and of the time.