disappeared with them. The war had exhausted the resources of
the State and ruined the fortunes of many individuals; we had no
schools for the education of our youth; few of our citizens were
able to send their sons to the Northern colleges or to Europe to be
educated. Two individuals, who received their education during the
war, were destined to keep alive the remnant of our literature and
prepare the public mind for the establishment of this University.
These were William R. Davie and Alfred Moore. Each of them had
endeared himself to his country by taking an active part in the
latter scenes of the war; and when public order was restored and
the courts of justice were opened they appeared at the bar, where
they quickly rose to eminence, and for many years shone like meteors
in North Carolina. They adorned the courts in which they practiced,
gave energy to the laws, and dignity to the administration of
justice. Their genius was different and so was their eloquence.
Davie took Lord Bolingbroke for his model, and Moore, Dean Swift;
and each applied himself with so much diligence to the study of his
model that literary men could easily recognize in the eloquence
of Davie the lofty, flowing style of Bolingbroke; and in that of
Moore, the plainness and precision of Swift --they roused the
ambition of parents and their sons; they excited emulation among
ingenuous youth; they depicted in glowing colors the necessity of
establishing a public school or university in which the young men
of the State could be educated. The General Assembly resolved to
found an university. I was present in the House of Commons when
Davie addressed that body upon the bill granting a loan of money
to the trustees for erecting the buildings of this University; and
although more than thirty years have since elapsed, I have the most
vivid recollections of the greatness of his manner and the power
of his eloquence upon that occasion. In the House of Commons he
had no rival, and upon all great questions which came before that
body his eloquence was irresistible. The genius and intellectual
habits of Moore fitted him for the bar rather than a deliberative
assembly. Public opinion was divided upon the question whether he or
Davie excelled at the bar. Moore was a small man, neat in his dress
and graceful in his manners; his voice was clear and sonorous, his
perceptions quick, and his judgment almost intuitive; his style was
chaste and his manner of speaking animated. Having adopted Swift for
his model, his language was always plain. The clearness and energy
of his mind enabled him, almost without an effort, to disentangle
the most intricate subject and expose it in all its parts to the
simplest understanding. He spoke with ease and with force, enlivened
his discourses with flashes of wit, and where the subject required
it, with all the bitterness of sarcasm. His speeches were short
and impressive: when he sat down every one thought he had said
everything that he ought to have said. Davie was in his person tall
and elegant, graceful and commanding in his manners; his voice was
mellow and adapted to the expression of every passion; his mind was
comprehensive, yet slow in its operations, when compared with his
great rival. His style was magnificent and flowing, and he had a
greatness of manner in public speaking which suited his style and
gave to his speeches an imposing effect. He was a laborious student,
arranged his discourses with care, and, where the subject suited
his genius, poured forth a torrent of eloquence that astonished and
enraptured his audience. They looked upon him with delight, listened
to his long, harmonious periods, caught his emotions, and indulged
that ecstasy of feeling which fine speaking and powerful eloquence
alone can produce. He is certainly to be ranked among the first
orators, and his rival, Moore, among the first advocates, which the
American nation has produced.
Whilst these two men were in the zenith of their glory, another
man arose at the bar in North Carolina who surpassed them both in
profoundness of legal learning, and, on many occasions, successfully
contended with them for the palm of forensic eloquence. This was
the late John Haywood. He had few advantages from nature; his
person was indifferent, his voice harsh, his manners uncouth, his
education limited. He was a stranger to the graces, and had few of
the accomplishments of an orator. But he had a powerful and intrepid
mind, which he cultivated by the most laborious study. The fame of
Davie and Moore inspired his ambition, and he was tortured by a
desire of entering the lists with these champions of the bar. He
was conscious of his defects, and sought to gain the ascendency
by superior legal learning. He came to the bar with confidence of
high intellectual powers and profound knowledge of the law; and in
a little time acquired a reputation that placed him at the head of
his profession in this State and gave him rank among the ablest
common-law lawyers in the Union.
Contemporary with Haywood were several gentlemen of the bar now
living and several who are dead who have sustained the character of
their profession for legal learning and general literature. Among
the latter were William Duffy and Archibald Henderson. Duffy was
the child of misfortune. Thrown upon the world without friends and
without fortune, accident introduced him, in his early youth, to
the acquaintance of John Haywood, Esq., the venerable Treasurer of
this State, who, in the exercise of that benevolence for which his
whole life has been conspicuous, gave him employment and enabled
him to prosecute his studies and prepare himself for the bar. Duffy
had an opportunity of witnessing the splendid displays of Davie and
Moore and he profited by their example. He devoted a large portion
of his time to polite literature, and acquired a more elegant style
in composition than any of his contemporaries in North Carolina. He
had a slight impediment in his speech, but by laborious perseverance
he succeeded in regulating the tones and modulations of his voice
in such a way that his impediment seemed to be an ornament to his
delivery. He was one of the few men of our country who could read
well; he studied the art of reading, and his friends will long
remember the pleasure they have received from hearing him read. In
his addresses at the bar he was always impressive, particularly
upon topics connected with virtuous and benevolent feeling. He had
a vigorous mind and feelings attuned to the finest emotions. I
remember him with fond affection. He was my friend, my preceptor,
my patron. He instructed me in the science of the law, in the art
of managing causes at the bar, and in the still more difficult art
of reading books to advantage. I wish it were in my power to render
to his memory a more permanent honor than this passing tribute of
respect and gratitude!
Henderson survived Duffy many years, and obtained the first standing
at the bar of this State. He was devoted to his profession, and,
upon the whole, was the most perfect model of a lawyer that our bar
has produced. It was late in life before he turned his attention
to polite literature, and he never acquired a good style in
composition. Yet his style and manner of speaking at the bar were
extremely impressive. I shall here speak of him as I did in a sketch
of his character published shortly after his death. In him the
faculties of a fine mind were blended with exalted moral feelings.
Although he was at all times accessible, he seemed to live and
move in an atmosphere of dignity. He exacted nothing by his manner,
yet all approached him with reverence and left him with respect.
The little quarrels and contests of men were beneath him; his was
the region of high sentiment, and there he occupied a standing that
was preeminent. The Constitution and jurisprudence of his country
were his favorite studies. Profound reflection had generalized his
ideas and given to his political and legal learning a scientific
cast. No man better understood the theory of our government; no
man more admired it, and no man gave more practical proofs of his
admiration. The sublime idea that he lived under a government
of laws was forever uppermost in his mind, and seemed to give a
coloring to all his actions. As he acknowledged no dominion but
that of the laws, he bowed with reverence to their authority, and
taught obedience no less by his example than his precept. To the
humble officer of justice he was respectful; the vices of private
character were overlooked when the individual stood before him
clothed with judicial authority. In the County Courts, where the
justices of the peace administer the law, he was no less respectful
in his deportment than in the highest tribunal of the State. He
considered obedience to the laws to be the first duty of a citizen,
and it seemed to be the great object of his professional life to
inculcate a sense of this duty and give to the administration of
the laws an impressive character. He was conscious of his high
standing, and never committed himself nor put his reputation at
risk. He always came to the trial of his causes well prepared; and
if the state of his health or his want of preparation were likely
to jeopardize his reputation in the management of his client's
cause he would decline the trial until a more favorable time. The
courts in which he practiced, and his brother lawyers, understood
the delicacy of his feelings upon this point so well that they
extended to him the indulgence he required, and a knowledge of this
part of his character gave confidence to his clients and attracted
crowds of people to hear his speeches. When he rose at the bar no
one expected to hear common-place matter; no one looked for a cold,
vapid, or phlegmatic harangue. His great excellence as a speaker
consisted in an earnestness and dignity of manner and strong powers
of reasoning. He seized one or two strong points, and these he
illustrated and enforced. His exordium was short and appropriate;
he quickly marched up to the great point in controversy, making no
manœuvre as if he were afraid to approach it, or was desirous of
attacking it by surprise. The confidence he exhibited of success he
gradually imparted to his hearers; he grew more warm and earnest as
he advanced in his argument, and seizing the critical moment for
enforcing conviction, he brought forth his main argument, pressed
it home and sat down. As he advanced in life he seemed more and
more anxious that the laws should be interpreted and administered
by the rules of common sense. He lost his reverence for artificial
rules; he said the laws were made for the people, and they should be
interpreted and administered by rules which the people understood,
whenever it was practicable; that common sense belonged to the
people in a higher degree than to learned men, and that to interpret
laws by rules which were at variance with the rules of common sense
necessarily lessened the respect of the people for the laws, and
induced them to believe that courts and lawyers contrived mysteries
in the science merely for the purpose of supporting the profession
of lawyers. He said the rules of pedantry did not suit this country
nor this age; that common sense had acquired dominion in politics
and religion, and was gaining it in the law; that judges and lawyers
should have the independence and magnanimity to strip off the veil
of mystery from every branch of the science, and simplify and make
it intelligible, as far as possible, to the understanding of the
common people.
In all free States eloquence has preceded poetry, history, and
philosophy. By opening the road to wealth and fame it subserves the
purposes of avarice and ambition; society is led captive by its
charms, and sometimes bound in fetters by its powers. In this State
the bar and the General Assembly have been thus far the theatres
for its display. Oratory is the branch of literature which we have
cultivated with most success, and in which we have not been far
behind any of our sister States.
Not long after Davie left the House of Commons there appeared in
that body another man whose genius we have all admired and whose
misfortune we all deplore. I hope I may be permitted to speak of
him, although he be still living. Providence has withdrawn him from
public view, and he has been followed by the regrets and tears
of his countrymen. I speak of John Stanly, Esq. For more than
twenty years he has been the ornament of the bar and of the House
of Commons. Small in stature, neat in dress, graceful in manner,
with a voice well modulated, and a mind intrepid, disciplined and
rich in knowledge, he became the most accomplished orator of the
State. His style of eloquence was more varied than that of any of
his predecessors. Such were the versatility of his genius and the
extent of his acquirements that he could at pleasure adopt the
lofty, flowing style of Davie, or the plain, simple, energetic style
of Moore. He could rouse the noble passions, or amuse by his wit
and pleasantry. He excelled in appropriate pauses, emphasis and
gesticulation. No speaker was ever more fortunate in accommodating
his manner to his subject; and on all important subjects he had a
greatness of manner which small men seldom acquire. He resembled
Moore in the quickness of his perceptions and the intuition of his
judgment. His talents and knowledge were always at command, and he
could bring them to bear with force and effect as occasion required,
without any preparation. His mind was so well disciplined and so
happily toned that it was always ready for action. He possessed the
rare talent of conversing well; his conversation was the perpetual
flow of sober thought or pleasant humor, and was heightened in its
effect by his happy style and gracefulness of manner. He was among
the few orators of this or any country, whose style and manner in
conversation equaled his style and manner in public speaking.
Few of the men whom I have named had the advantage of a liberal
education; they rose to eminence by the force of genius and a
diligent application to their studies. The number of our literary
men has been small, when compared with our population; but this
is not a matter of surprise when we look to the condition of the
State since the close of the Revolutionary war. When the war
ended the people were in poverty, society in disorder, morals and
manners almost prostrate. Order was to be restored to society and
energy to the laws before industry could repair the fortunes of
the people; schools were to be established for the education of
youth and congregations formed for preaching the gospel before the
public morals could be amended. Time was required to effect these
objects; and the most important of them, the education of youth, was
the longest neglected. Before this University went into operation,
in 1795, there were not more than three schools in the State in
which the rudiments of a classical education could be acquired. The
most prominent and useful of these schools was kept by Dr. David
Caldwell, of Guilford county. He instituted it shortly after the
close of the war and continued it for more than thirty years. The
usefulness of Dr. Caldwell to the literature of North Carolina
will never be sufficiently appreciated; but the opportunities of
instruction in his school were very limited. There was no library
attached to it; his students were supplied with a few of the
Greek and Latin classics, _Euclid's Elements of Mathematics_, and
_Martin's Natural Philosophy_. Moral philosophy was taught from
a syllabus of lectures delivered by Dr. Witherspoon at Princeton
College. The students had no books on history or miscellaneous
literature. There were indeed very few in the State, except in the
libraries of lawyers who lived in the commercial towns. I well
remember that after completing my course of studies under Dr.
Caldwell, I spent nearly two years without finding any books to
read except some old works on theological subjects. At length, I
accidentally met with Voltaire's history of Charles XII. of Sweden,
an odd volume of Smollett's _Roderick Random_, and an abridgment
of _Don Quixote_. These books gave me a taste for reading, which I
had no opportunity of gratifying until I became a student in this
University in the year 1796. Few of Dr. Caldwell's students had
better opportunities for getting books than myself; and with these
slender opportunities of instruction, it is not surprising that so
few became eminent in the liberal professions. At this day, when
libraries are established in all our towns, when every professional
man and every respectable gentleman has a collection of books, it
is difficult to conceive the inconveniences under which young men
labored thirty or forty years ago.
But has the number of our distinguished men increased as the
facilities of instruction have increased? They certainly have
not. Of the number of young men who have been educated at this
University, how few have risen to eminence in any branch of
literature! Their number bears no proportion to the increased
means of instruction which they have had. To what causes is this
to be attributed? The causes are numerous, but we will notice
only a few of the most operative. In the first place the plan of
education in all our schools, particularly in our preparatory
schools, is radically defective; too much time is spent upon syntax
and etymology; the time of the student is wasted, and his genius
frittered away upon words instead of being developed and polished
by the spirit of the writer. Instead of directing the study of the
Greek and Latin classics to the development of his faculties and the
improvement of his taste, his time is taken up in nice attention
to words, arrangement of clauses and construction of periods. With
his mind thus injured, he enters upon the study of the physical and
moral sciences, and long accustomed to frivolous investigation, he
never rises to the dignity of those sciences nor understands the
methods by which their truths are illustrated. In the next place,
too many studies are crowded upon the student at once; studies
which have no analogy or connection. In the third place, the time
allotted for completing a course of scientific study is too short;
the student's mind flags under the severe labors imposed upon
it. The elasticity of the mind ought never to be weakened; if it
be, the student thenceforward hobbles through his course, and is
often broken down before he gets to the end of it. In the fourth
place, too many studies are pursued, and none are pursued well;
the student acquires a smattering of languages and sciences, and
understands none of them. This encyclopedical kind of learning is
destructive of the powers of the mind, and unfits it for deep and
severe investigation. In the last place, the multitude of books
is a serious injury to most students. They despair of reading
many of them, and content themselves with reading reviews of the
most celebrated. At length the valuable books are placed away
carefully in a library, and newspapers, pamphlets and other fugitive
productions take up all their time for reading. There is nothing
in this course which teaches youth how to think and investigate.
The great object of education is to give to the mind activity and
energy: this object can never be attained by a course of studies
which distracts its attention and impairs its elasticity.
The evils which I have mentioned are not confined to the schools of
North Carolina; they exist in nearly all the schools of the Union.
Massachusetts has taken the lead in correcting them and introducing
methods of instruction founded upon the philosophy of the mind.
The state of science and literature among her people shows the
happy effect of these changes. The Trustees of this University have
resolved to make similar changes, to remodel the plan of studies,
and introduce new methods of instruction. But whatever changes may
be made in our plan of education, young men, who are desirous of
being either useful or eminent in active life, should recollect this
truth, that the education received at a college or university is
intended only as a preparation of the mind for receiving the rich
stores of science and general knowledge which subsequent industry
is to acquire. He who depends upon this preparation alone will be
like a farmer who ploughs his land and sows no grain. The period
of useful study commences when a young man finishes his collegiate
course. At that time his faculties have acquired some maturity
from age and some discipline from exercise; and if he enter with
diligence upon the study of a branch of science, and confines his
attention to that branch, he soon becomes astonished at his progress
and at the increase of his intellectual powers. Let him avoid
reading or even looking into a variety of books. Nine-tenths of them
are worse than useless; the reading of them produces a positive
injury to the mind; they not only distract his attention, but blunt
his faculties. Let him read only works of men of genius--read but
few books, and read them often. Take two young men of equal minds
and similar genius; put into the hands of one Shakespeare's _Plays_,
Milton's _Paradise Lost_, _Don Quixote_ and _Gil Blas_; and into the
hands of the other all the hundred volumes of dullness which fill
our libraries; and at the end of twelve months mark the difference
between them. The first will be like the high-spirited steed that is
ready for the course; the other will be encumbered with a load of
useless ideas, his faculties weakened, and the bright tints of his
genius obscured.
The next great object, after the improvement of the intellectual
faculties, is the forming of a moral character. This is by far the
most difficult part of education: it depends upon the doctrines
of morals and the philosophy of the passions and feelings. Little
success has heretofore attended it, either in the schools of Europe
or this country. The moral character of youth has been generally
formed by their parents, by friends who gained their confidence,
or by their pursuits in active life. The morality thus taught is
purely practical; it has reference to no abstract truths; it looks
only to the passions and feelings of our nature under the variety
of circumstances in which we may be placed in society, and the
duties which thence result. The science of ethics taught in our
schools is a cold, speculative science; and our youth are misled by
substituting this for practical morality. It is to be regretted that
we have no work on moral philosophy which treats of ethics purely
as a practical science; and it is remarkable that, notwithstanding
the great improvement that has been made within the last century
in metaphysical and physical science, and the liberal turn of
philosophical inquiry which has been introduced, the science of
ethics remains stationary. The question, "What is the foundation of
moral obligation?" is not more satisfactorily answered now than it
was two centuries ago. And until the principles of ethics shall be
disentangled from the speculative doctrines of theology, interwoven
by the schoolmen and monks in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, and those principles be traced to the constitution and
condition of man, having for their object the development of his
social rights and duties, we shall have to regret that the most
sublime of all the sciences remains imperfect. It seems to be
reserved for the philosophers of Scotland to trace those principles
and make this development; and we wait with impatience for the
promised work of Dugald Stewart on this subject. But any system of
morals which we may study as a science will never have much effect
in forming our moral character. We must look to our constitutional
temperament, to our passions and feelings as influenced by external
circumstances; and for rules of conduct we must look to the sermons
and parables of Christ: they are worth more than all the books which
have been written on morals; they explain and at the same time apply
that pure morality which is founded upon virtuous feeling.
_Young Gentlemen of the Dialectic and Philanthropic Societies_:
As you have conferred on me the honor of delivering this first
public address under your joint resolution, I hope you will
permit me before I sit down to say a few words upon a subject
connected with the usefulness of your Societies and the interests
of the University. I speak to you in the spirit of fellowship,
and a long acquaintance with your Societies enables me to speak
with confidence. I well know the influence which your Societies
can exercise in maintaining the good order of this Institution,
in sustaining the authority of the faculty, in suppressing vice
and promoting a gentlemanly deportment among the students. Every
respectable student of proper age is a member of one or the other
of your Societies, and feels more mortification at incurring its
censure than that of the faculty. This feeling is the fulcrum on
which the power of the Societies ought to be exerted. Let me entreat
you then, more particularly as you propose hereafter to occupy a
higher ground than you have heretofore done, to exert that power in
sustaining the discipline of the University, in encouraging industry
and good manners, and in suppressing vice. The united efforts of
the two Societies can do more in effecting these objects than the
authority of the Trustees or faculty. A high responsibility rests
upon you; your honor and the welfare of the University demand its
faithful discharge.