PROF. JOHN NEWTON PUTNAM.--PROF. JOHN S. WOODMAN. PROF. CLEMENT
LONG.--OTHER TEACHERS.
The following notice of the eminent scholar who succeeded Professor
Crosby in the chair of Greek, is from a Commemorative "Discourse" by
Professor Brown.
John Newton Putnam was the son of Simeon and Abigail Brigham (Fay)
Putnam, and was born December 26, 1822, in what was then the north
parish of the beautiful town of Andover, Massachusetts. His father, a
graduate of Harvard in the Class of 1811, was for many years teacher
of a classical school of high character in North Andover, in which the
son received his elementary training and discipline. His mother was a
lady of exquisite refinement and beauty of character, of great
gentleness and tender grace. Soon after the death of his father, in
1833, he entered Phillips Academy in Andover, then under the charge of
that excellent scholar, Mr. Osgood Johnson, where he successfully
completed the usual course of study preparatory to entering college.
Being still quite young, and already showing uncommon aptitude for
study, he went with his instructor and friend, Rev. Thatcher Thayer,
to the town of Dennis, upon Cape Cod, where he spent four years in
quiet and delightful application.
Dr. Thayer says of his classical studies:
"He recited each day, in review, the whole of the past lesson from
memory, without book, first the Latin or Greek and then the English.
At each lesson questions were asked which, if he could not answer, he
was required to answer at the next recitation, from various helps
furnished him. This often led to long and varied investigations. He
wrote as much as he read,--perhaps more.
"If those studying with him might smile a little at his want of
athletic zeal and vigor, there was no room for smiling when it came to
Greek, or indeed any mental exercise. Besides, his wit, though gentle,
could gleam, and then they all respected him for his character, and
loved him for his winning spirit."
In the autumn of 1840, he entered the Sophomore class of this college,
ready to make full use of the ample opportunities granted him. With
what modesty and beauty he bore himself here, with what fidelity in
every relation, with what admirable scholarship, with what generous
aims, with what simplicity and purity of motive, with what love of
learning, and desire not merely of meeting the claims of the
recitation-room, but of perfecting himself in every branch of liberal
culture, how constantly this noble desire possessed him from his first
day among us down to the closing hour when he discoursed so fitly and
with such maturity on "Poetry--an instinctive philosophy," those know
best who were most familiar with his college life. One testimony to
this is so full and generous, and of such weighty authority, that I
cannot forbear to give it. It is from the accomplished scholar who
filled the chair of Greek for many years before Professor Putnam.[46]
[46] Professor Alpheus Crosby.
"I could not hope," he says, "to express, by any words at my command,
the peculiar charm which Professor Putnam's scholarship and character
had for me. I never heard him recite without being impressed with the
wonderful perfection of his scholarship. His translation was so
faultlessly accurate, and yet in such exquisite taste, his analysis
and parsing were so philosophical and minutely exact, and his
information upon illustrative points of history, biography,
antiquities, and literature, was so full and ready, that I listened
with admiration, and to become myself a learner. How often I had the
feeling that we ought to change places I and when I had decided to
resign my situation in the college, my mind immediately turned to him
as a successor, assured that the college would be most fortunate if it
could secure his services." It need not be said how fully Professor
Putnam reciprocated this esteem, nor what value he attached to the
exact and thorough discipline of his instructor.
Nor was it in the department of languages alone that he was
distinguished, but almost equally in every other, as much in those
studies which demand the independent and original action of the mind
as those which mainly require close attention, and the faculty of
acquisition. His modesty was then, as always, so marked, and his ideal
of excellence so high, that it required some sense of duty to bring
his powers to a public test. He never thrust himself into a place of
responsibility, or sought distinction for distinction's sake.
He had in college the desire and purpose which he always retained,--to
complete himself in every art and every manly exercise. Hence his
study of music, not only as a recreation, but as a discipline; not
merely to gratify the ear, though exquisitely fond of the art, and
receiving from it a refined and exalted pleasure, but also that he
might become acquainted with the thoughts and conceptions of men great
in musical genius. The Handel Society, which, from the constant
changes of its members, must necessarily fluctuate,--the annual losses
not always being met by corresponding gains,--was then in a high state
of efficiency. For the sake of study and musical acquisition, it
boldly grappled with the difficult works of eminent masters, and with
whatever necessary imperfectness of actual performance, it was with
sure and lasting results of musical ability and taste and knowledge.
It was in this society, I suppose, that Professor Putnam first became
practically acquainted with some of the great works of Handel and
Haydn, Beethoven and Mozart, and with the lighter but yet substantial
excellencies of some of the English masters. Here he cultivated and
disciplined his nice ear to the instinctive perception of the hidden
harmonies of poetry, to the _feeling_ of those finer beauties which
hardly admit of expression in anything so clumsy as our actual speech.
The desire for physical accomplishment led him to join a military
company then existing in college, although he had no love for such
things, but rather a native repugnance to them, and there was then no
special demand for the discipline.
The six years following his graduation were divided between
instruction in Leicester, Massachusetts, and Newport, Rhode Island,
and pursuing his professional studies in the Theological Seminary at
Andover. During this time he reviewed and consolidated his knowledge.
He brought himself into nearer contact with practical and common life.
He enlarged his sphere of observation and the circle of his studies,
and was looking forward with great satisfaction to the actual
performance of the duties of his profession, when he was invited to
the chair of Greek in this college. It was a position entirely suited
to his tastes, his capacities, his studies. He brought to it not only
ample learning and tastes delicate and cultivated, but the enlarged
and generous spirit of a true scholar, and the aptness of an
accomplished instructor. His ideal of attainment and of duty was very
high, and he aimed at once to fit himself, by the most generous
courses of study, to illustrate the more perfectly to his classes the
poetry, the eloquence, the philosophy, of the wisest and most refined
people of the whole ancient world.
It was with no narrow or exclusive spirit, nor with a merely technical
purpose, that Professor Putnam pursued his studies, or directed those
of others. Every true book was a nucleus around which all thought and
knowledge of similar kind were grouped,--a central point from which
his mind radiated in all directions within the sphere of the subject.
Could he read Plato and Aristotle without studying the course of
ancient philosophy and its influence on the modern? or Demosthenes,
without an investigation of the virtues and failings of Athenian
statesmen? or Thucydides, without meditation on the causes of the
desolation of empires and states? or Homer and Sophocles, without a
quick comparison with Dante and Milton and Shakespeare? It was indeed
a characteristic of Professor Putnam, and one cause why his knowledge
was becoming, had indeed become, at once so ample and so serviceable,
that it was not an accumulation of facts disconnected or bound
together by mere accidental associations, but an organic growth, every
fibre of the most distant branch tracing itself back to the one trunk,
and the sap from the living root feeding and nourishing the whole.
In his special profession, Professor Putnam would be allowed to hold
rank among the very best. The most kind and winning of teachers, he
was the most exacting and stimulating. By questions sharp, pertinent,
and various, thoroughly testing the knowledge of the student, he at
once made him feel his deficiencies, and inspired him to supply them.
Even the dull and careless felt the singular fascination of his look
and tone, caught something of the life of his spirit, and were
gradually lifted above themselves. Gentle, affable, ready to
communicate, dignified, thorough, patient, and learned, never harsh,
never repulsive, he was earnest to meet every want of the student. His
whole course was marked by unwearied fidelity.
To instruct was an occupation and a duty, to which he made everything
else yield. He was thoroughly desirous to help those who came under
his care, so revealing to them their own deficiencies, and so placing
before them the methods and results of a better scholarship, as to
incite them to new exertions, and aid them to independent and vigorous
activity. No one, unless very groveling and earthy, could be long
under his training, without insensibly catching something of the finer
spirit of a beautiful discipline. His own philosophic thought imparted
its movement to their minds, and many are they who have gone from
these halls, within the last fourteen years, who can trace back to him
some of their best methods of study.
Language was, in his view, no dead product, but the finer breath and
effluence of the national life, as subtle, as many sided in its
aspects, as the national spirit itself,--into the knowledge of which
one must grow by slow degrees, bending his pliant mind till it
gradually yields to the new channels of thought and expression.
"An unfaithful scholar," says one of his pupils, "was gently yet
unmistakably reminded of his delinquency, perhaps by assistance being
omitted upon a point which he might easily have ascertained for
himself. One whom he saw struggling to learn he invariably helped, and
this help was given so kindly that many a one would try to make a good
recitation if only to gratify one so much beloved. The best scholars
were quickened by his most delicately expressed appreciation of their
victories, and even sluggish souls felt an unwonted light and warmth
stirring in them when they came into his presence. I remember well our
last recitation in Greek. It was from Plato. He started with an idea
of the noble philosopher, Christianized it, and gave it to us in a few
simple, sublime words, with an attitude and _look_ that melted the
hearts of all.
"It has sometimes occurred to me that he could not seem constantly to
others as he did to me, like one who had dropped from a higher sphere,
to remain a little while in order to draw the hearts that should love
him to a purer, higher, and better life. But conversation with others
has shown me that it has long been a general impression that he moved
in a realm above the common level of even the best men."
There was still another aspect in which Professor Putnam presented
himself, which should not be passed over without at least an allusion.
Having completed his professional studies, his own tastes and higher
aims, no less than the wishes of his friends, induced him occasionally
to exercise the functions of the Christian ministry. Hence he sought
and received ordination according to the usages of the Congregational
churches, and in that relation stood in his lot. With what earnestness
and pureness of motive, with what loftiness of purpose and fidelity in
his high calling, and acceptance to those who heard him, I need not
try to express. But I may say that it was not for want of solicitation
that he did not exchange his professorship for places of considerable
public importance in the other calling. It was his duty, a belief of
his fitness for his post, that kept him from some inviting fields of
labor elsewhere.
Having referred in fitting terms to his call to the Andover
Theological Seminary, to the closing scenes in his life, and to his
death at sea, Professor Brown says in conclusion:
"Few lives were more perfect than his, whose youth gave so fair a
promise, whose riper years so fully redeemed the pledge. His presence
shall still go with us all, to excite us to new fidelity, to enkindle
within us nobler affections, to inspire us with holier purposes."
His classmate Rev. Dr. Furber says:
"The ripe and rare scholarship of my beloved classmate and friend,
John Newton Putnam, was the fruit of diligence and the love of study
in one whose acquisitions were easily and rapidly made. Mr. Putnam
never seemed to be a hard worker, but knowledge was continually
flowing to him as by a process of absorption from his early childhood
until he became the accomplished and brilliant scholar that he was as
professor of Greek. His books were his constant companions, their
society was his pleasure and pastime, he preferred it, even in his
boyhood, to the sports and recreations for which most boys neglect
their studies. When in college he sat up at night after other students
were in bed to pursue the study of German and other modern languages
not then required by the college course. This he did from the pure
love of these studies, without the aid of a teacher, and without the
social stimulus of any companionship in such pursuits. And he probably
for the sake of study neglected needful bodily exercise every year of
his life.
"In the study of languages he found a fascination. The marvelous Greek
tongue was of course the richest field for him, the language of a
people of the finest and subtlest intellect, and of the highest
culture in the art of speech. He seemed at home in that wonderful
language as much almost as if it had been his mother tongue. The
elegance and vivacity, the felicity and energy of his translations
from Thucydides or Plato showed that he not only comprehended his
author and saw the subject as he saw it, but that he had fairly caught
the glow of the author's mind from the page which he had written.
"So accomplished a student of language could not have been ignorant of
his rank among his fellow students; but in all my intimacy with him,
boarding at the same table, occupying for a few months the same room,
and spending with him more or less time every day either in social
intercourse or in the enjoyment of vocal or instrumental music, I
never knew him to betray, by word or act or look, a consciousness of
his superiority to the poorest scholar in the class.
"Oblivious as he was, apparently, of the deficiencies of others, he
was quick enough to perceive their merits. A fine recitation or an
eminently creditable performance of any college exercise, no matter by
whom, gave him positive enjoyment, which in his nervous and emphatic
way he was very apt to express. It is really not too much to say that
he appeared to enjoy the successes of others as much as though they
had been his own.
"What a help to any college class is the influence of one such man!
His connection with the class of 1843, was, no doubt, the presentation
to some of its members of an ideal such as they had not formed before;
an ideal, not only of enthusiasm for the largest acquisitions and the
finest culture, but of that enthusiasm sustained by the love of
excellence for its own sake, and not alloyed by any merely selfish
ambition to surpass others.
"A spirit of scholarship so high, so broad, so generous as this could
be no mark for envy. None of us grudged our classmate his position or
his honors. He was the beloved associate, and is now the warmly
remembered friend of some of us, and no doubt many of us were more
indebted to his example than we were aware of at the time for anything
that was well and worthily done by us in our college days.
"I ought not to close this notice without speaking of Mr. Putnam's
love of music. Music was born in him as much as Greek was, and he
learned one as rapidly as he did the other. When in college he was a
valuable member of the Handel Society, his influence being always in
favor of the introduction for practice of the standard and classic
authors. Haydn's 'Creation' and other works of that great composer
were an unfailing source of delight to him. Their naturalness and
spontaneity, their brightness and cheerfulness, their artistic finish
and exquisite grace, met precisely the corresponding qualities in his
own mind. As we often choose those authors who are most unlike
ourselves, so he knew how to enjoy the rugged grandeur of less
polished writers. He could listen to a mountain chain of choruses in
'Israel in Egypt,' or to a dark and mazy labyrinth of mingled harmony
and discord in Beethoven, and wherever he saw the perfection of art or
the power of genius, his soul was like a harp of a thousand strings
every one of which was alive with vibration. I well remember with what
elevation of feeling and intensity of utterance he used in the Handel
Society to sing 'The Hallelujah Chorus,' and the concluding chorus of
the Messiah, 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.' His deeply religious
sympathies were touched by the sentiment of these great choruses, and
on this account his enjoyment of them was more profound than his
enjoyment even of the finished models of Haydn. He knew and felt that
he was on a grander theme, and that Redemption was greater than
Creation. And it is pleasant to think of him now as saying with a
deeper meaning and a more rapturous devotion than he knew on earth,
and may we add, a more thrilling musical delight, 'Worthy is the
Lamb.'"
We append some of the closing lines of the venerable Dr. Thayer's most
touching and eloquent tribute to the character of his beloved and
honored pupil: "He did in quality, more than in quantity, beyond any I
ever had to do with. He was under more stimulus than mere quiet
pleasure in study. He had a most delicate sense of beauty to be
gratified, a fine power of discrimination which sought objects for its
exercise. Then his love for his mother was a very powerful motive;
then too I think he thought of gratifying and honoring his teacher,
who loved him and tried to make him a scholar. But better, he loved
his Saviour and increasingly studied with humble loyalty to him. Still
we must not put Putnam in a wrong place. He was pre-eminently made for
a classical scholar."
Rev. Dr. Leeds adds:
"I became acquainted with Professor Putnam in the winter of 1860-61,
and was on intimate terms with him up to the time of his death, more
than two years later....
"Of his scholarship, others can speak more fitly than I. All remarked
that he was pervaded by that which is beautiful in the wonderful
language and literature he taught, as ever a vase by the perfume of
its flowers.
"But it is his character on which I love to dwell. Ever after I had
become well acquainted with him, he was a delightful illustration to
me of the power of love to foster diverse and even opposite elements
of character. He had feminine traits, and yet he was thoroughly
manly; the gentleness and tenderness of a true woman were his, and so
were the dignity and courage of a true man. He could speak, and was
wont to speak, and preferred to speak words of kindness the most
winning; but he could administer a rebuke longer to be remembered than
most men's; though _more_, perhaps, because it came from him than for
any other reason. The union in him of fastidious taste and of
uncritical temper was very marked. No man was more sensitive than he
to all the proprieties of the occasion; and one might at first fear
lest himself should say or do what would jar upon that delicately
attuned spirit, for whatever _he_ said or did was perfect in its
manner. And yet no one--no one--would listen with more simple
enjoyment to the plainest, crudest utterances of others. He had not
one word of criticism to offer. He seemed to see--I am confident he
did see--only what was good and attractive in them. But one thing
could offend him, that which indicated a want of sympathy.
"More than any man I ever knew, he saw the good in every person, and
the bright in everything. It was wonderful, it was delightful, it
rebuked one, and it quickened one, to note the manifestations of this
temper. Nothing, seemingly, could occur that did not present some
occasion for gratitude. After the fearful disaster which hurried his
life to its close, his message home was--how characteristic of him all
who knew him will at once recognize,--'Tell them to thank God for our
deliverance!'
"I must not say much more. His friends need no reminders of his
innocent, sunny playfulness, or his abounding, sparkling--but never
trenchant--wit. As one of them has said of another, 'What bright,
graceful conceits often fell from his lips, his soft, dark eye smiling
at his own unexpected thought!' And yet, such was his gracious nature
that he was the delight of the house of prayer as much as of the
friendly circle, the one who would be chosen alike to share our hours
of gayety, and to extend to us the sacramental cup. In fine, his
qualities were refined, blended, and crowned by love--love which often
suggested to others the name of St. John.
"No notice of him would be adequate that did not at least refer to
his wife,--fitting companion to such a man. A daughter of Prof.
William and Mrs. Sarah Chamberlain, she inherited both the attractive
and the sterling traits of her parents. 'Lovely and pleasant in their
lives, in their death they were not divided.'"
Esthetic and solid culture have very rarely had a more nearly perfect
union in any American scholar than in Professor Putnam. Whether in the
privacy of his home, in the recitation room, or before a large
audience, his words were always chosen with a marked regard for
fitness and beauty. His knowledge of the minutest points of every
theme which he discussed was so exhaustive and complete that any
attempt to improve would have been almost like carrying light to the
sun.
The graces of his heart corresponded with those of his person and
mind. His earnest piety was marked and felt by all who came within the
sphere of his influence. Few Christian teachers have passed away, at
the age of forty, more highly esteemed than Professor Putnam. He died
on the return voyage from Europe, near Halifax, October 22, 1863.
* * * * *
In 1851, the chair of Mathematics was rendered vacant by the death of
Professor Chase, and he was succeeded by John Smith Woodman, a member
of the Rockingham County Bar. He was the son of Nathan and Abigail H.
(Chesley) Woodman, and was born at Durham, N. H., September 6, 1819.
Extended experience as a teacher in the South, and foreign travel, had
given valuable expansion to Professor Woodman's naturally capacious
mind. He was a careful, patient, laborious teacher of the Mathematics.
He did not exact excellence from every student, for he fully realized
that a lack of native fondness for the studies of this department
rendered it impossible for some to appear in the recitation-room, with
as full preparation as others. But he strove to have each do the best
in his power, and his kindness induced many to put forth earnest
effort, who would have been less inclined to do so under a different
teacher.
One well qualified to appreciate him says:
"As an instructor in Mathematics, a field proverbially difficult,
Professor Woodman had but few equals. Such was his superiority when a
student in this department, that there was little difficulty in
choosing a successor to the post made vacant by the sudden and
untimely death of Professor Chase. The action of the Trustees was most
completely justified by the ease and thoroughness with which Professor
Woodman took up and carried forward the work of his honored and
lamented predecessor.
"In the class-room, however subtle or complicated the subject, or
however dull the student lucklessly 'called up,' his demeanor was
always evenly calm, without a shade of impatience; he carried a firm,
steady hand, master alike of himself and the subject in hand.
"Under his direction the field of Mathematics was not left to mere
theoretical cultivation. At an early date, the first class under his
care was marshaled in squads under self-chosen captains who were first
trained by the professor in practical handling of compass, theodolite,
and sextant; and then each led his division to out-door work, taking
the various instruments in turn. He was also able to invest even
Analytical Geometry and Integral Calculus with charms for some of the
class. One student came from a private interview in a high state of
enthusiasm over the eloquent suggestiveness of formulae in the
vocabulary of Calculus.
"Written examinations, now so common, were among the methods
introduced into his department by Professor Woodman, and that class
still remembers the spectacles quietly adjusted, that his
near-sightedness might not encourage an illicit use of + and -, and
the rigid silence which shut them up to the simple problems written
upon the blackboard, notwithstanding adroit questions, ostensibly
innocent and necessary.
"In the Chandler Scientific School, to which Professor Woodman was
afterwards assigned, he was specially qualified to do good work,
because of his thorough mastery of Mathematics by perceptions almost
intuitive. Thoroughly at home in its principles, loving them, and
honestly loving his pupils, he could luminously and patiently teach
the application of those principles in practice, however minute and
detailed.
"Mention of Professor Woodman as an instructor would be incomplete,
were there no allusion to the force and influence of his character as
a man, transparently honest, and grandly true. He taught well from
text-books, but his life, so unaffectedly simple and just, gave
better, deeper, and more lasting instruction."
An associate in the Faculty says:
"Professor Woodman becoming somewhat weary of the continuous and
laborious drill of young men in a department not generally
appreciated, and feeling a renewed desire to return to the practice of
law, resigned his professorship, and removed to Boston for that
purpose. After a year's experience of the practice, or desire of
practice, of law, the professor was ready to return to his field of
labor in the college. His former department was no longer open, the
place having been filled, on his resignation, by the appointment of
Professor Patterson. He was, therefore, appointed Professor of Civil
Engineering in the Chandler Scientific School. On entering upon his
duties, he was made the chief executive officer, under the president,
of the department, and continued to hold that relation to the school
till his death. Professor Woodman proved himself a thorough, able, and
zealous teacher in his new chair, and by degrees became deeply
interested in the Scientific Department, and devoted his time and
energies to building it up and making it a success. He early became
sensible of the importance of the free-hand drawing, and gave it a
prominent place in the curriculum of the School, which it has
continued to hold. The depth of Professor Woodman's love for the
School, and the strength of his desire for its continued prosperity,
were made manifest in his will by a generous donation to its funds.
Those who graduated from the Chandler Department while it was under
the administration of Professor Woodman, will never cease to love and
revere his memory."
A classmate, distinguished for his interest in general education,
says:
"Professor Woodman was county commissioner of schools, and secretary
of the New Hampshire Board of Education, during the year 1850. He was
again county commissioner during the years 1852 and 1853. In 1854 he
was commissioner and chairman of the board which was composed of the
commissioners of the several counties. In the opinion of the most
competent judges, Professor Woodman was one of the wisest and most
efficient state school officers New Hampshire has ever had. He was
admirably qualified for the work of an educator, not only by the cast
of his methodical, organizing mind, but by his varied experience and
scholastic attainments. He was eminently practical in all his plans
for the improvement of the schools, and he knew well how to adapt
means to ends. His reports, both as commissioner and secretary, were
of a high order of excellence, and they were highly beneficial in
promoting the cause of education in the State."
Professor Woodman married Mary Ann, daughter of Stephen Perkins
Chesley, of Durham, and adopted daughter of Edward Pendexter. He died
at Durham, N. H., May 9, 1871.
* * * * *
In 1853, Professor Clement Long, who was the son of Samuel and Mary
(Clement) Long, and was born at Hopkinton, N. H., December, 31, 1806,
was called to the chair of Intellectual Philosophy which had been
vacated by the resignation of Professor Haddock. He was a thorough
teacher. Being himself a most profound thinker, he deemed it his duty
to exact a thorough knowledge of every day's lesson by the student. If
he had not made himself master of the subject, by learning all that
was to be learned from the text-book, any attempt to supply the
deficiency, by drawing upon his own resources, would be sure to be
followed by the plainest marks of dissatisfaction or merited rebuke on
the part of Professor Long. Never indulging in the diffuse or the
discursive himself, he never tolerated such a course on the part of
the student. A mere glance at the man was sufficient to indicate the
richest and most solid type of mind. Those who sat under his
instruction, and were capable of appreciating it, will ever remember
his efforts in their behalf with the liveliest gratitude.
In a commemorative "Discourse," President Lord says: "He was graduated
at this college in 1828, a classmate and intimate friend of the late
and lamented Professor Young, and a worthy associate of the many
honorable men by whom the class of that year has been distinguished.
"It was here, in a time of unusual religious awakening among the
students, that he became a Christian, and, with several of his
classmates, made profession of his faith,--a profession ever
afterwards honored by a singular devotedness to his Saviour. That he
was a regenerate man, and true to his Christian calling, no one who
knew him ever doubted. It was manifested by the perhaps best of all
evidences, as construed by experienced observers,--the uniform
prevalence of an unworldly and super-worldly spirit. He affected
nothing, he pretended nothing; but whatever he said or did significant
of religious character was traceable, and traceable only, to a
believing and loving mind. If any thought him severely religious, that
may have been the fault of his critics rather than his own.
"After leaving college, he was for three years a preceptor,
principally at Randolph, Vt.; then, for two years, a theological
student at Andover. Before completing his term at that institution, he
was called, in 1833, to the professorship of Intellectual Philosophy
in Western Reserve College, at Hudson, Ohio. After a short term of
service he was elected to the professorship of Theology, in the same
institution, and received ordination as a minister of the gospel.
These changes are all significant of early and distinguished worth.
"In 1851 he received and accepted the appointment of professor of
Theology in the Seminary at Auburn, N. Y."
His classmate Professor Folsom says:
"Professor Long was like a precious stone kept long in the lapidary's
hands before its brilliancy met the public gaze. I had my home under
his father's roof, and sat daily at table with him, during my Junior
year. We were colleagues afterwards, together with our classmate
Jarvis Gregg, in the Western Reserve College; and they both were
members of my family there. We had been Handelians at Dartmouth (as
also Peabody), and almost every evening we sang together, at our
fireside, from Zeuner's "Harp." How precious the memory of those
hours! How often has the uplifting power of all our intercourse been
felt! Professor Long, like Professor Young, joined the love of
Mathematics with that of Metaphysics, but the bent of his genius was
strongly in the direction of the latter, and not least in theological
and moral science. He had the enthusiastic regard both of the Faculty
and students of the Western Reserve College. He was also a very
suggestive and quickening preacher, often at my request taking my
place in the pulpit of the chapel. His great modesty, and not easily
satisfied ideal, kept him from publishing much in his lifetime; but I
have wondered that some of his writings did not find their way into
print after his death. He once told me, when urging him to this step,
that he hoped, in the course of ten years or so, to be able to prepare
something which the ear of the public might not be careless to hear.
He had the same clear-cut features that marked Professor Peabody,
though of a different pattern,--the latter with outward, the former
with inward, gaze."
"In 1853," President Lord continues, "he was transferred to the
position which he held in this college till his death, leaving the
honorable office which he had so lately assumed, at Auburn, partly out
of his great love for his Alma Mater, and partly, to minister to his
revered parents in their advanced years.
"In all these relations the qualities which I have suggested laid the
foundation of his acknowledged excellence. In all the departments
which he successively occupied he was regarded, as among the most
learned, able, and effective teachers and preachers of the country. He
was competent to every service required of him, and gave to every
position dignity and honor. He was distinctively Christian in them
all, and made them subservient to no school or party, but to the
gospel through which he had been saved.
"Wherein Professor Long was like other men, he was above the
generality, and, though he aspired not to lead, was fitted to precede
them. Wherein he was unlike them, the difference was more conspicuous.
His peculiarities were striking, and in them we perceive his most
observable traits, whether of the intellect or the heart.
"I know not whether it were most of nature, or habit, that our friend
was so distinguished for acuteness, directness, and singleness of the
mind,--a mind not especially intuitive and rapid, not noticeably free
in its conceptions, wide in its survey, or comprehensive in its
generalizations, moving rather on an extended line than an enlarged
area, but subtle and clear as light; sharp, piercing and
discriminating as electricity; pointed, direct, and exact as the
magnet; conclusive, positive, and decisive as the bolt of heaven. His
processes were simple, natural, easy, and continuous, not stiffly
regulated by scholastic laws, but strictly conformable, and his
results inevitable. Give him his definitions and his postulates which,
though not given, he would, like other resolved reasoners after his
method, sometimes take, at his own risk, and he would go round or
through the circle, or make his traverses in darkness and storm, and
never lose his meridian, or be confused in his reckoning; and he would
come back precisely to his starting-point laden with success, his
points all proved. It was well said of him by a curious and critical
observer of scholars, that, as a logician, he was not exceeded in the
country.
"Our professor had made large attainments in the science to which he
was especially devoted,--the Metaphysics. He read whatever was worth
the reading, of which, however, he chose to be an independent judge,
but he thought more, so that his attainments were emphatically his
own. He was not like what so many now become in this department of
study,--a mere follower, imitator, panegyrist,--but a searching critic
and judicious commentator. He had a higher range of speculative
inquiry than most of the more ambitious men who have exceeded him in
popular effect, and he corrected his inquiries by a better logic, and
a more simple faith. But I have sometimes thought him too much of a
recluse for his greatest profiting in this respect. He loved best the
retirement of his own study, and was rarely seen outside of it, except
when required by his official duties. He abjured the artificial forms
and fashions of social life, the bustling confusions of trade and
commerce, and the whirl and finesse of political agitations. He never
would stand on a platform, nor be seen at an anniversary, nor harangue
a popular assembly. He was happiest in solitude where, undisturbed, he
could solve the abstruse problems of ethics, or be a delighted critic
of metaphysical theories, or seek to penetrate the mysteries of
theology. He was consequently in danger of contemplating his
subjects, like so many others of his time, both in Church and State,
too much in their refined essence, and too little in their
comprehensive practical relations; rather as things, in his judgment,
ought to be, than as they are; too much in the light of a fictitious
principle, and too little in that of experience, history, and analogy;
rather according to God's original constitution than the actual
necessities of a fallen state; too much as they may be in the ultimate
development of God's moral providence, and too little as they are in
its administrative course. Hence, but for the greatest care which, in
the main, he exercised, he would have been likely to crowd into his
definitions and postulates more than they naturally admitted, or to
make them less than they naturally required; to mistake, for the basis
of his fulcrum, a speculative subtlety instead of a practical reality;
and, consequently, to make his inexorable logic draw too much, or to
little, for legitimate practical effect. If, occasionally tempted by
the excitement of our present types of speculative and conjectural
science, he seemed to overstep the limits which God has prescribed to
us in our present probationary state, and to make the human a measure
of the Divine, it was done not presumptuously, from a spirit of
conceited and ambitious intermeddling with things forbidden, but
unconsciously, from an honest desire for knowledge. When he perceived,
as he was not slow to perceive, that many of the objects which now so
much allure the learned men of the world, who are falsely so called,
were not real, but ideal and conceptional only, not actual knowledge
verifiable by a day-light test, but shadows and chimeras chasing one
another over the moonlit sky, then he retreated. He chose to stop,
reverentially, as taught by Scripture, when he must, rather than to be
driven back by the cherubim and the flaming sword. Not even Kant, or
Coleridge, or any of their living imitators, however congenial their
respective tastes for speculative subtleties, could tempt him so to
disregard the boundary between reason and faith as to lose sight of
Calvary, or mistake an _ignis fatuus_ for the Sun of Righteousness.
His college experience, and, I have sometimes thought the _genius
collegii_, with a father's and mother's teachings and prayers, all
favored by the Spirit who only searcheth the deep things of God, kept
him near and true to the everlasting Word.
"But we forgot all his speculative trials and temptations, we forgot
almost that he was not perfect but in part, when, in his sacred
character, and in this sacred place, he laid aside his weapons of
intellectual warfare, and, with his peculiar meekness of wisdom,
simplicity of statement, power of argument, and cogency of appeal,
testified to us the great things of the kingdom of God, so far as he
had learned them out of the Holy Scripture. Very instructive and
affecting it was, when, as sometimes, the aspiring philosopher, the
uncompromising logician, the astute economist, the grave and learned
dogmatist, renounced these and all other accomplishments of nature, or
rather made them subservient to the greater accomplishments of grace.
Then we admired, even to tears of thankfulness, how the wise man, in
becoming a fool, becomes truly wise; how he who could be great among
his fellows on Mars Hill,--great after the fashion of the
Areopagus,--could be greater, after a higher fashion, in declaring the
God there Unknown; in repeating simply the lessons of that heavenly
wisdom which none of the princes of this world knew; and, with a
child-like sincerity and earnestness, from his own sense of the
sufficiency of redeeming mercy, inviting us to 'The Lamb of God who
taketh away the sin of the world.'
"It might seem that one so abstract and speculative, so contemplative
and reserved, would naturally be wanting in those sensibilities and
affections which are justly reckoned indispensable to the highest
excellence of character, and to the happiness, or the relief, of our
present state. But appearances do not necessarily represent, but more
frequently conceal, realities. I have been permitted to read some of
his most familiar letters, which reveal a sunny and cheery side of his
character which I had not learned from personal observation. That he
had a susceptible and generous heart no man ever doubted. But one must
know what he has written to his friends, out of its unperceived
fullness, to appreciate those hidden sympathies of his nature which
brought him into harmony as well with the outer as the inner world.
Few would have a better relish for innocent festivities, or the
pleasures of travel, or the grander and finer works of nature or art.
Few would be more excited by the sparkle or roar of ocean, the
magnificent scenery of Centre Harbor, the sublime panorama of the
White Mountains, or the quiet beauties of the Connecticut valley.
True, such objects engaged him but for a time. They were not his chief
good. He wanted the higher satisfactions of enlarged knowledge, of
speculative insight, of reasoning activity, of professional
engagement. They were not his work, but his pastime. Yet, when he
played, it was with as great enjoyment as any man can have who plays
alone, and far greater than they have, or can have, who do naught but
play in company, who care for little but sights and sounds, at length
sickened and enfeebled by their very tastes, incapable of grave and
dignified pursuits, disgusted by their own vanities, remorseful at
their own intemperate hilarities, saying, at last, of laughter, 'It is
mad, and of mirth, what doth it?' Stoical he may have been, for that
belongs, almost of course, to natural magnanimity, and familiarity
with large and elevated themes; but ascetic and cynical he was not,
and could not have been, with his appreciation of Christian truth, and
experience of a Saviour's love.
"The scholar, teacher, preacher, learned, profound, effective,
venerable in all relations, has passed away; the good man, regenerate
by the grace of God, trusting in the righteousness of Christ, and
hoping for salvation only through redeeming blood; the righteous man,
stern and inflexible in his integrity, who never dissembled, never
professed what he did not feel, never hated, never spoke evil of his
neighbor, and could and did say that he was never angry at his
brother; the faithful man, who was true to his engagements, kept his
post, and, in weariness and painfulness, performed his appointed work
till he was struck with death; the husband, father, friend, of whom,
in these relations, it were impertinent to speak particularly, while
wounded spirits are already telling, too much, how great his value,
and how great their loss. He has passed away, dying as he had lived,
and taught, and preached,--in faith; peaceful as a little child, and
hopeful of that better state where that which is perfect will come,
and that which is in part shall be done away."
Professor Long published a sermon before the W. R. Synod in 1847, a
discourse on "The Literary Merits of Immoral Books," in the same year,
"Inaugural Address at Auburn," in 1858, a sermon in Dartmouth College
Church, "Jesus Exalted yet Divine," in 1859, and a memorial sermon on
Professor Roswell Shurtleff, in 1861. In 1836, with Professor Gregg,
he assumed the editorship of the "Ohio Observer" published at Hudson.
In their first address to their readers is this passage: "In relation
to the subject of slavery we shall take the high ground that man is
man and cannot therefore be treated and used as property without sin,
that immediate emancipation is a duty, and that it is therefore the
duty of every man to pray and strive in every virtuous way for the
abolition of slavery." The last date of an editorial is June, 1837.
Professor Long married Rhoda Ensign, daughter of Alpha Rockwell, of
Winsted, Connecticut. He died at Hanover, October 14, 1861.
* * * * *
Propriety forbids more than the briefest reference to a large number
of the worthy living, who have been, or who still are numbered among
Dartmouth's professors, in the Academical department. Otherwise we
might dwell, with profit, upon the name of the able theologian, George
Howe; of the eminent linguist, Calvin E. Stowe; of that strong and
graceful master of the English, the Latin, and the Greek, Edwin D.
Sanborn, who is now just passing the threshold of the "three score and
ten," and completing nearly a half century of various and valuable
connection with his Alma Mater; of Oliver P. Hubbard, who is still
patiently and skillfully unfolding the secrets of science in halls
which have echoed his voice for more than forty years; of Samuel G.
Brown, the music of whose chaste and charming lectures on Rhetoric
still lingers in the ears of a long line of pupils; of Daniel J.
Noyes, whose fidelity, courtesy, and kindness in the chairs of
Theology and Philosophy have given him a warm place in the hearts of
nearly thirty classes; of James W. Patterson, whose pupils have
watched the turning of the thoughts of an admired and honored teacher
from Natural to Political Science, with unceasing interest, and
followed him through the vicissitudes of public service, with
undiminished affection; of Charles A. Aiken, the critical and
accomplished linguist, whose loss by the college was deemed almost
irreparable; of William A. Packard, who, in a kindred department gave
early promise of his later success; of Charles A. Young, whose
scientific researches have added to the fame of his family, his
college, and his country. Nor should the service rendered to the cause
of science by Henry Fairbanks and John R. Varney, while professors at
Dartmouth, escape our notice.
A proper estimate of the value of the services of those who are now
manfully and successfully bearing "the burden and heat of the day,"
and bidding fair to do so for years to come, in this important field,
with its slender pecuniary rewards, of Samuel C. Bartlett, Henry E.
Parker, Elihu T. Quimby, Charles H. Hitchcock, John C. Proctor,
Charles F. Emerson, and John K. Lord, must be left to a future
historian.
The tutor's chair at Dartmouth has been filled by many men of high
promise, some going to premature graves, others to what they deemed
more inviting fields. Among them we find such names as Calvin Crane,
Moses Fiske, Asa McFarland, John Noyes, the value of whose instruction
was gratefully acknowledged by Dartmouth's most illustrious son a
quarter of a century after his graduation, Thomas A. Merrill,
Frederick Hall, Josiah Noyes, Andrew Mack, John Brown, Henry Bond,
William White, Rufus W. Bailey, James Marsh, Nathan Welby Fiske, Rufus
Choate, Oramel S. Hinckley, John D. Willard, Henry Wood, Ebenezer C.
Tracy, Ira Perley, Silas Aiken, Evarts Worcester, Jarvis Gregg, and
Samuel H. Taylor. We cannot dwell upon individual merit, nor give even
the names of all who have rendered valuable service in this sphere.
The "Indian Charity School," also has had many teachers of
distinguished worth. Among them we find such names as Benjamin
Trumbull, the historian, to whom we have referred heretofore; Ralph
Wheelock, the favorite son of the honored founder, who would doubtless
have left to him his official mantle, but for the early failure of his
health; James Dean, whose name is indelibly engraven upon the earlier
periods of our national history, Jacob Fowler, who well illustrated
the value of Christian civilization to the Indian; Caleb Bingham and
Elisha Ticknor, whose names are closely interwoven with the
educational history of New England's metropolis, Josiah Dunham, Judah
Dana, Caleb Butler, William A. Hayes, the intimate and honored friend
of Francis Brown, Joseph Perry, John S. Emerson, and Osgood Johnson.