^m-^: 
 
x ... 
 
 the: (\ . \^^ ^ 
 
 EBOOK 
 
 Containing an Account of the Foundation and History of 
 the Prize, the Successful Orations, and a Com- 
 plete List of Subjects and Competitors. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 MELVIN GILBERT pODGE, B. A., 
 
 Librarian and Assistant Professor in Hamilton College, 
 
 AND 
 
 DANIEL WYETTE BURKE, B. A., 
 
 Assistant Librarian ^.nd Graduate Student in History. 
 
 CLINTON, N. Y. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE EDITORS 
 
CI ^\ 
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 
 By M. G. Dodge and D. W. E. Burke 
 
 in the office of the 
 
 Librarian of Congress. 
 
 L. C. Childs &" Son, 
 Printers and Binders, Utica, N. Y. 
 
EDITORS' NOTE. 
 
 THIS volume of Clark Prize orations will be wel- 
 comed by all Hamilton alumni as a means of renew- 
 ing some of the most pleasant associations of college 
 life. It will also have some value from an educational 
 point of view. 
 
 It has been impossible to procure the successful ora- 
 tions of 1855, 1857 and 1892, which we much regret. 
 The prize takers for these years were John E. Burke, 
 Herrick Johnson and Gregory Rosenblum, We have 
 thought it best to use by substitution in the first two cases 
 the only orations for those years found in the College 
 Library. No oration appears for the year 1884, as there 
 was no contest by that class. 
 
 We wish to express our hearty thanks to Chancellor 
 Upson, Professors Frink, Hoyt and Smith, for their gener- 
 ous and welcome contributions to the volume. The three 
 former made the contest what it is, a glory of Hamilton ; 
 to the latter, with Professor Scollard, is left the duty of sus- 
 taining the work in its integrity. 
 
 The Editors. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Editors' Note, ...... iii 
 
 Introduction. . . . . . 9 
 
 The Clark Prize in Hamilton College, N. Y.: 
 
 Its Early History, Hon. Anson J, Upson, D, D., LL. D., 
 
 Chancellor of the University of the State of New York, . 9 
 
 1872 to 1885, Henry A. Frink, Ph. D., Professor of Logic, 
 
 Rhetoric and Public Speaking in Amherst College, . 20 
 
 1886 to 1891, Rev. Arthur S. Hoyt, D. D., Professor of 
 Sacred Rhetoric and Pastoral Theology in Auburn Theo- 
 logical Seminary, ..... 26 
 
 The Men who Spoke, Brainard G. Smith, M. A., Professor 
 
 of Rhetoric and Oratory in Hamilton College, . 30 
 
 Exhibition of 1855, 
 
 The Imagination as a Means of Napoleon's Success, W. B. 
 
 Fairfield, ...... 37 
 
 Exhibition of 1856, 
 
 The Legacy of Rome to the World, Franklin H. Head, . 45 
 
 Exhibition of 1857, 
 
 The Position of Patrick Henry in American History, 
 
 George M. Diven, ..... 52 
 
 Exhibition of 1858, 
 
 Unconscious Influence, Frederick D. Seward, . $9 
 
 Exhibition of 1859, 
 
 Moral Principle a Condition of Mental Power, Harlan P. 
 
 Lloyd, ...... 71 
 
 Exhibition of i860, 
 
 Memory as a Retributive Power, John R. Lewis, . . 82 
 
 Exhibition of 1861, 
 
 Representative Poets, James S. Greves, . . 96 
 
VI 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 Exhibition of 1862, 
 
 The Power of the Youthful Spirit, Charles L. Buckingham, 106 
 Exhibition of 1863, 
 
 " Paradise Lost" and the " Divine Comedy," Horace P. V. 
 
 Bogue, . . . . . . 115 
 
 Exhibition of 1864, 
 
 The Providence of God in American History, Henry M. 
 
 Simmons, . . . . . . 124 
 
 Exhibition of 1865, 
 
 Opinions Stronger than Armies, Luther A. Ostrander, . . 134 
 
 Exhibition of 1866, 
 
 The Position of Holland in History, Charles S. Millard, . 144 
 
 Exhibition of 1867, 
 
 The Legacy of the Federalists, Sidney A, Sherwin, . 154 
 
 Exhibition of 1868, 
 
 The Achievements of the American Navy, Martin R. 
 
 Miller, . . . . . . . 164 
 
 Exhibition of 1869, 
 
 Reverence in the American Character, John C. Fowler, . 174 
 
 Exhibition of 1870, 
 
 The Heroism of the Naturalist, James H. Hoadley, . 184 
 
 Exhibition of 187 i. 
 
 Sir William Hamilton and His Contributions to Philos- 
 ophy, Robert L. Bachman, . . . .193 
 
 Exhibition of 1872, 
 
 Commerce : Its Growth and Influence, Brainard G. 
 Smith, ....... 204 
 
 Exhibition of 1873, 
 
 The Indebtedness of English Literature to the Bible, Oliver 
 
 E. Branch, . . . . . .217 
 
 Exhibition of 1874, 
 
 The Supernatural in Literature, Edgar A. Enos, . . 223 
 
 Exhibition of 1875, 
 
 The Humorous Element in the History of Reforms, 
 Charles K. Seward, ..... 230 
 
CONTENTS vii 
 
 Exhibition of 1876, 
 
 The Pathos of the Bible, Howard P. Eel Is, . . 238 
 
 Exhibition of 1877, 
 
 The Heroism of General Havelock, Frank V. Mills, . 245 
 
 Exhibition of 1878, 
 
 Remorse as Delineated in English Poetry, William L. 
 
 Parsons, . . . . . .252 
 
 Exhibition of 1879, 
 
 The Heroism of General Jackson, Robert S, Rudd, . 260 
 
 Exhibition of 1880, 
 
 The Race Problem in the United States, Charles A. 
 
 Gardiner, . . . . ... 269 
 
 Exhibition of 188 i. 
 
 The Mormons and the United States Government, Robert 
 
 W. Hughes, ...... 277 
 
 Exhibition of 1882, 
 
 Nelson and Farragut, Anthony H. Evans, . . 286 
 
 Exhibition of 1883, 
 
 The Good and the Evil of the American Newspaper, 
 
 Clement G. Martin, ..... 293 
 
 Subjects of 1884, ..... 301 
 
 Exhibition of 1885, 
 
 The Battle of Monmouth, Wager Bradford, . . 302 
 
 Exhibition of 1886, 
 
 Saxon and Slav in Asia, James B. Lee, . . . 309 
 
 Exhibition of 1887, 
 
 The Strength and Weakness of Culture, Charles B. Cole, 316 
 
 Exhibition of 1888, 
 
 Poetry as a Teacher of Patriotism, Abraham L. McAdam, 323 
 
 Exhibition of 1889, 
 
 The Spanish Armada, Frederick Perkins, . . . 330 
 
 Exhibition of 1890, 
 
 Victor Hugo, Poet and Patriot, Robert J. Hughes, . 338 
 
viii THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Exhibition of 1891, 
 
 The Conception of Human Progress in Tennyson, Bayard 
 L. Peck, . . . . . .345 
 
 Exhibition of 1892, . . . . .352 
 
 Exhibition of 1893, 
 
 Waterloo and Sedan, Nathaniel McGiffin, . . 353 
 
 Subjects of 1894, ...... 360 
 
 Index to Speakers, . . . . . .361 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE CLARKPRIZE IN HAMILTON COLLEGE,N.Y. 
 
 ITS EARLY HISTORY. 
 
 THE Clark Prize in Hamilton College was 
 founded by the Hon. Aaron Clark, of New 
 York city, in 1855. Not many facts in the life of 
 the founder can now be definitely ascertained ; yet 
 as one of the benefactors of the college, he de- 
 serves to be gratefully remembered. We know that 
 Mr. Clark was a student in Hamilton Oneida 
 Academy, and that he left Clinton, probably in 
 1804, to enter Union College, Schenectady. He was 
 graduated at Union in 1808, the same year that 
 Samuel Kirkland died. Afterwards, he entered 
 the legal profession and practiced law for many 
 years in the city of New York. April 11, 1837, he 
 was elected Mayor of New York and held the 
 office for two years. Hamilton College gave him 
 the degree of Master of Arts in 1838. In 1856, he 
 was President of the Hamilton Alumni Association, 
 and in commencement week of the same year he 
 delivered an address to the alumni. He died in 
 the city of New York in 1861, at about the age of 
 seventy-three. 
 
lo THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 While Mr. Clark was a student at the Hamilton 
 Oneida Academy, its Principal was the well re- 
 membered Rev'd Robert Porter, whom John Colt, 
 Esq., of Paterson, New Jersey, described as ^'a 
 great favorite with the boys." At Union College, 
 the class of 1808, in which he was graduated, was 
 the first class which President Nott instructed, he 
 having been elected President in 1804. It is inter- 
 esting to notice also that in college, Mr. Clark was 
 taught mathematics by the Rev'd Dr. Thomas 
 Macaulay, afterwards an eminent Presbyterian pas- 
 tor in New York. He was taught rhetoric and logic 
 by the Rev'd Dr. T. C. Brownell, afterwards the 
 widely known Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Con- 
 necticut, and Greek by the Rev'd Dr. Henry Davis, 
 afterwards President of Hamilton College. One of 
 his tutors in college was Thomas Emmons Clark, 
 who afterwards, for more than forty years, was one 
 of the best lawyers in Oneida county and whose 
 instructions as a teacher of a Bible Class in Utica 
 will never be forgotten. 
 
 If we may know a man's character by the com- 
 pany he keeps, it will be interesting and may be 
 instructive to recall the names of some of those 
 with whom Mr. Clark must have associated in his 
 college life. Some of his fellow students at Union, 
 either in his own class or in contemporaneous classes, 
 from whom he received much of his ' ' unconscious 
 tuition," were James Dean, the ''best scholar" in 
 
EARL V HISTOR V. 1 1 
 
 his class, who was afterwards a tutor in Hamilton 
 College, and subsequently Treasurer of the college, 
 and still later first Judge of Oneida county ; Alfred 
 Conkling, afterwards U. S. District Judge, U. S. 
 Minister to Mexico, and the father of Roscoe Conk- 
 ling ; the brothers Thomas and John Dewitt, after- 
 wards eminent clergymen in the Reformed Dutch 
 Church ; John C. Spencer, Secretary of State of 
 N. Y. , and U. S. Sec'y of War and of the Treas- 
 ury ; and Gideon Hawley, the organizer of our 
 New York system of common schools. Among 
 his college friends, those who afterwards were more 
 or less closely identified with Hamilton College, 
 were the Hon. James O. Morse, of Cherry Valley, 
 and the Rev'd Dr. Jacob Van Vechten, of Sche- 
 nectady. No wonder that with such teachers and 
 * * keeping such company " in his college life, he 
 became a useful and honored citizen. 
 
 In 1837, when he was about fifty years of age, 
 he was elected Mayor of the city of New York. 
 About four years previous to Mr. Clark's election 
 this Mayoralty had been made a higher honor than 
 ever before. Before 1833, the Mayors of New York 
 had been appointed by the Common Council. Mr. 
 Clark, like his two immediate predecessors, was 
 elected by the people. To be Mayor of New York 
 as he was, from 1837 to 1839, was, at that time, to 
 hold a more responsible office than that of many a 
 Governor. It was a period of financial distress. 
 
12 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Serious disturbances were not improbable. To 
 hold efficiently the reins of power required a steady 
 hand. Our College Board of Trust honored itself, 
 when in 1838 the Board conferred upon the Mayor 
 of New York the degree of Master of Arts. 
 Although he was a graduate of Union College, per- 
 haps his early attachment to Hamilton Oneida 
 Academy might have made him prefer to accept his 
 second degree from Hamilton College. In later 
 years, when honorary degrees are conferred more 
 freely, he might have been made a Doctor of Laws„ 
 However this may be, it is pleasant to know that 
 his name will be borne upon our roll of honor for- 
 ever. 
 
 I remember well his appearance when he deliv- 
 ered his address before our alumni, in the old Stone 
 Church, in 1856. About sixty-eight years of age, 
 he was a sturdy man. For one of his age, he 
 seemed very robust, remarkably vigorous in body 
 and mind. He spoke like an experienced lawyer, 
 with clearness and precision and argumentative 
 force. His thoughts were consecutively arranged, 
 and were as vigorous as his elocution. His whole 
 address was as manly as himself ; most appropriate 
 to the place and to the occasion, and to his audience, 
 mostly composed of young men. 
 
 I wish I had preserved a letter which he once 
 wrote to me. It was characteristic in itself, and in 
 his signature. He had noticed that his name in the 
 
EARL V HISTOR V. 1 3 
 
 title of the prize was printed ' ' Clarke. " He much 
 preferred to have it printed '' (7/<^r/^, " without the 
 terminal letter 'V." So may it be. 
 
 When the Clark Prize was founded, in 1854-55, 
 I had been permitted to teach rhetoric and to train 
 young men in Hamilton College in writing English, 
 and in public speaking, for about five years. It had 
 often occurred to me that we might have a public 
 exercise which should represent the highest rhetori- 
 cal attainments of the college, exhibiting from time 
 to time its very best work in writing and speaking 
 — the best work in the art of expression that our 
 undergraduates could do. It seemed to me that 
 this exercise would not only exhibit and stimulate 
 rhetorical attainments specially, but might represent 
 and indirectly stimulate the whole culture of the 
 college in all its departments, and so be a worthy 
 expression of the trained mental and moral and 
 physical power of the institution. 
 
 With this purpose in mind, I consulted Professor 
 Charles Avery, LL. D., '20, who was then greatly 
 interested in increasing the endowments of the 
 college. For many years, with remarkable perse- 
 verance and unselfishness, Dr. Avery gave much 
 time and labor to this most beneficent and difficult 
 work. H^e himself could give but little or no money, 
 but with heart-felt interest, he induced others to 
 give to our beloved college. He deserves to be 
 remembered and he Vv^ill be remembered as one of 
 
14 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 the liberal benefactors of the institution. To Dr. 
 Charles Avery we are largely indebted for the 
 foundation of the Clark Prize. He had made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Clark, and relying upon his 
 interest in the college because of his former life as 
 a student in Hamilton Oneida Academy, he called 
 his attention to the good that might be done by 
 such an endowment. After due consideration, Mr. 
 Clark responded by the gift of five hundred dollars. 
 He made a condition of his gift that the principal 
 should be permanently invested and the income 
 appropriated as a prize to that student or those 
 students of the Senior Class who should excel in 
 oratory. It was an affectionate recognition of the 
 benefits Aaron Clark had received from his academic 
 life on College Hill. The Trustees of the college 
 accepted the gift and pledged themselves to fulfill 
 the conditions. President North and the Faculty 
 of the college readily approved of the plans pro- 
 posed for the establishment of the prize. At first, 
 it was thought by some that the income of the 
 fund should be awarded in two prizes, but it was 
 determined, wisely I think, that the whole income 
 should be awarded, as it is now and has been from 
 the beginning, in a single prize for the best oration 
 in thought, composition, style and delivery. The 
 competition was limited to the Senior Class. The 
 subjects were to be selected and the six successful 
 competitors appointed and the prize awarded by 
 
EARL V HISTOR V. 1 5 
 
 the Faculty. Other regulations were adopted sim- 
 ilar to those now prescribed. 
 
 We had some trouble at first with the length of 
 the orations. It is remarkable how many writers 
 and speakers "take no note of time" until — they 
 are hearers. The ' ' gift of continuance " is too 
 frequent^ an unconscious possession. In author- 
 ship, as well as in physical life, parents over-esti- 
 mate the merits and attractiveness of their own off- 
 spring. But these long orations must, somehow, 
 be shortened. The patience of even a sympathetic 
 college audience is not inexhaustible. So, at first, 
 it was decreed that only so many sheets of paper 
 should be covered. But writers soon developed 
 marvellous skill in microscopic penmanship. Then 
 the private reading of the orations to the professor 
 of rhetoric was found to be unsatisfactory ; for the 
 public delivery of the same number of words took 
 much more time than the private reading. It was 
 difficult to induce writers to shorten their own com- 
 positions, even by the advice or positive direction 
 of the professor of rhetoric. In one case, an 
 abbreviation decreed by the Faculty was resisted by 
 the orator with tears. The critical professor was 
 tearfully told that the passage he so cruelly pro- 
 posed to omit, would, if retained and delivered by 
 the writer, ' ' draw tears from the most obdurate ! " 
 It was difficult indeed, even for an obdurate critic, 
 hardened by his murderous work, to resist such an 
 
1 6 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 appeal. But soon after, the present method was 
 adopted. Length was ascertained and determined 
 by counting the foHos, according to the enactment 
 of the courts of New York, by which a foHo is de- 
 creed to be one hundred words. Such a method 
 seems now as if it must have been very naturally 
 suggested. Yet, it was not thought of until it was 
 suggested to me by my friend the Hon. Theodore 
 M. Pomeroy, LL. D.,''42. And even this folio 
 method encountered, at first, the resistance of fer- 
 tile writers. We were asked whether such short 
 words as articles and conjunctions might not be 
 omitted in the counting. In my time, if I remem- 
 ber correctly, no oration was accepted which con- 
 tained more than twelve folios. I doubt whether 
 the present increase of the length to fifteen folios 
 has improved the orations. 
 
 After the six orations had been selected by the 
 Faculty, no speaker was permitted to alter his 
 composition ; this prohibition is the only excuse I 
 have now, at this late day, to offer for what might, 
 otherwise, seem mischievous in me. At the first 
 exhibition, in 1855, three orations were delivered 
 on the same theme : "The Imagination as a Means 
 of Napoleon's Success." All three speakers meant 
 to quote correctly and appropriately the sublime 
 apostrophe of Napoleon at the beginning of his 
 battle with the Mamelukes in Egypt, in sight of the 
 pyramids. One speaker made him exclaim, 
 
EARL Y HISTOR V. 1 7 
 
 * ' Soldiers, from the top of yonder pyramids twenty 
 centuries look down upon you ! " Another speaker 
 made him say ' ' thirty centuries. " And still another 
 orator proclaimed the fact, with increasing emphasis, 
 that ' ' forty centuries look down upon you ! " 
 Neither speaker knew what the others had said, 
 but the hearers remembered ; and when the last 
 quotation was made, it was received with most 
 tumultuous applause, to the amusement of the 
 audience and to the delight of the unconscious ora- 
 tor over the overwhelming success of his eloquence! 
 No harm was done. The Professor, mischievously 
 perhaps, had prevented monotony. 
 
 During the sixteen years — 185 5-1 870, in which I 
 supervised the annual exhibitions, the six speakers 
 were prepared for the public exercise by four elo- 
 cutionary rehearsals each — three in the chapel on 
 the hill, and the last in the Stone Church in Clinton. 
 The aim in each rehearsal was to develop as com- 
 pletely as possible the characteristic powers of each 
 speaker so that he might give not mine, but his own 
 best expression to his own thoughts, giving the full- 
 est effect to his own speech by the most effective 
 action that was most natural to himself. To gain 
 this end, that each speaker might do his best, 
 neither time nor labor nor repetitious drilling were 
 spared by either the professor or the speaker. So 
 much was done in this way by both, that not only 
 were many bad habits corrected, but good habits 
 
1 8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 were formed. Many speakers were taught "how 
 to be natural " in a way never forgotten ; so that 
 their ' ' Clark Prize Oration " became a valuable 
 life-long possession — a kind of elocutionary ' ' study, " 
 bringing them back to nature whenever they wan- 
 dered away. 
 
 In the course of time, there grew up in the col- 
 lege, among the students in successive classes, a 
 band of assistants who greatly aided in the work of 
 these rehearsals, seeing that the suggestions of the 
 professor were carried out, or disapproving them 
 sometimes, or making new suggestions, possibly. 
 
 And we must not forget to mention also the touch 
 of humor that often brightened our final fourth re- 
 hearsal in the village church, when in the earlier 
 days of the prize, the old sexton, Samuel Foote, so 
 well remembered for his stentorian voice, used to 
 come limping upon the platform showing to pro- 
 fessor and speaker with inimitable grace ' ' how he 
 could do it and how it ought to be done ! " 
 
 From the beginning, the Clark Prize was success- 
 ful. There was no lack of competitors. The sub- 
 jects selected were dignified and thoughtful, worth 
 writing and speaking and hearing about. They 
 enlisted the best work of many of the best young 
 men in successive Senior classes. And I think I 
 have noticed the permanent influence of some of 
 the subjects discussed upon the character of some 
 of the competitors in their subsequent lives. The 
 exhibition was held in the early summer, when the 
 
EARLY HISTORY 
 
 19 
 
 valley of the Oriskany and beautiful College Hill 
 with its verdure are in their glory. Large and bril- 
 liant audiences were drawn together from far and 
 near. The whole occasion was as inspiriting as the 
 fountain of youth. It was delightful to see so many 
 young men transformed for the time into genuine 
 orators, graceful, forcible, manly : apparently up- 
 lifted almost out of themselves by their subjects and 
 the thought they had given to them, and by their effort 
 to give a true expression to their thoughts and feel- 
 ings. There were none connected with the occa- 
 sion who were not benefited by it : not only the 
 successful prize-taker, but every writer for it, 
 whether or not selected to be one of the six com- 
 petitors, was stimulated and broadened and strength- 
 ened by his effort. The whole college felt the in- 
 spiration. And many an academy boy who came 
 to listen, resolved to graduate and kept his resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 We cannot be too grateful to the founder for 
 that little gift that has done so much for so many : 
 ' ' How far that little candle throws his beams ! So 
 shines a good deed in a naughty world." Like so 
 many educational methods invented in Hamilton 
 College, our Clark Prize has been honored by imi- 
 tators in many other institutions. It is encourag- 
 ing to know that for thirty-nine years it has lived 
 and is still useful. Esto Perpetua. 
 
 Anson J. Upson. 
 
 Glens Falls, N. Y., December '/th, i8pj. 
 
THE CLARK PRIZE FROM 1872 TO 1885. 
 
 ^^T^HE competition in oratory which is intended 
 1 to stimulate men how to speak is the high- 
 est exercise in which educated young men can en- 
 gage." The occasion of these words was the 
 announcement of the awards at the Inter-Collegiate 
 contest in Oratory, held in the Academy of Music, 
 New York, January 3rd, 1877, when, for the second 
 time, the first honor was assigned to Hamilton Col- 
 lege. The speaker was the presiding officer, the 
 late Rev. Dr. S. Irenaeus Prime, for nearly half a 
 century, editor of the Neiv York Obse^-ver. 
 
 Dr. Prime, as a distinguished representative of 
 the press, made it plain in thus emphasizing the 
 value of oratorical training, that, in his opinion, the 
 power of the spoken word has not been transferred 
 to the printed word. It is true that the press has 
 taken much for its province that in ancient times 
 belonged to the orator, and so now informs and in- 
 structs where once the orator alone was teacher. 
 But no less is it true that it is, to-day, the press 
 which gives wings to the spoken word, and leaving 
 it no longer a message local and transient, makes it 
 an influence universal and immortal. 
 
 The peculiar mission of the orator is not, how- 
 ever, to inform and instruct, but to convince and 
 
1872 TO i88s. 21 
 
 persuade. And here his power is supreme. *'The 
 deepest avenues to the soul," says one of our most 
 philosophic thinkers, ''is by the ear." The relig- 
 ions that have moved mankind most profoundly 
 have addressed themselves to the ear and not to 
 the eye. Moses spake, the prophets spake, the 
 Son of God spake, the apostles spake is the record 
 of the means which God has used to draw to Him- 
 self the heart and mind and will and life of the 
 human race. Nor, at the present moment, can the 
 cold, speechless type, however informing and appeal- 
 ing, work upon man the spell of the living pres- 
 ence, the speaking gesture, the inspiring voice. 
 And so, when man is to be moved to his depths that 
 he may feel a transforming influence on life and 
 character, or is to be inspired to action the highest 
 and noblest, or is to be strengthened to serve as he 
 ''stands and waits," the soul opens itself to no 
 other form of direct address as to the commanding 
 persuasiveness of the spoken word. Dr. Prime 
 was then not without reason for thinking so highly 
 of the competitions which aim to help educated 
 young men to something of this power in public 
 speech. 
 
 But such competitions do more than impart this 
 particular power. They develop, as can no other 
 form of academic training, elements of character 
 essential to the largest usefulness and noblest suc- 
 cess To meet such public demands, the comipetitor 
 
2 2 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 finds that something more is needed than mastery of 
 voice, grace of manner, fehcity of expression, or 
 earnestness of thought. Behind all these elements 
 of impressive speech, must stand the man with every 
 power of body, heart, mind and soul bent to give to 
 the word which he speaks all that he is in purpose, 
 thought and feeling. For without this infusion of 
 personal vitality and energy, public speech is with- 
 out the means of personal ascendency. And what 
 is the ability so to concentrate and to direct personal 
 force but one which success in every walk of life 
 demands .'* No less, then, has the training which 
 helps to this self-mastery and self-reliance, this 
 strength and poise of will, this power to inspire 
 every intellectual and moral energy to gain the end 
 in view, a value for the man than for the speaker. 
 
 It is well, therefore, that the usefulness of the 
 long list of Clark Prize competitions in oratory at 
 Hamilton College should have some permanent 
 recognition, as in this volume of orations. 
 
 The most interesting fact of the Clark Prize ex- 
 hibitions as I knew them, was their remarkable in- 
 fluence. Directly, this influence was felt as an in- 
 centive and as a standard in all the work in writing 
 and speaking from the beginning to the end of the 
 college course. Certain orations of literary fame 
 or of noted popular effect associated many years 
 before with the Clark Prize stage, were read and 
 studied by aspirants to like success, with an interest 
 
1872 TO 1 88s. 23 
 
 and an ardor, which the productions that the world 
 calls great could not then command. Nor is this 
 to be criticised. We all learn most and fastest in 
 our earlier if not in our later years, by that which is 
 nearest to us in excellence. Its merits do not dis- 
 hearten but stimulate. The superiority is not so 
 beyond what we think we may in time reach as to 
 warn us from the attempt, but seems to beckon us 
 on with assuring promise. I am glad, therefore, 
 that some of these orations which formerly were 
 often so difficult of access are now to be obtainable 
 by any who would be helped, as by the guidance of 
 a somewhat surer and stronger hand, to similar 
 attempts. 
 
 Indirectly, through the stimulus which made high 
 effort in oratory so common and constant, these 
 exhibitions more than any other influence gave to 
 the college, as familiar to me, its peculiar atmos- 
 phere of culture. A rural college singularly iso- 
 lated in situation, with inadequate library, dilapi- 
 dated buildings, with no art collections, not even a 
 gymnasium of any service so that at least the physi- 
 cal man might be trained to symmetry and grace, 
 wanting all material and external means — except 
 the incomparable beauty of its campus for a few 
 brief weeks in summer — to touch and mold the 
 finer tastes and sympathies, the college by its en- 
 thusiastic devotion to the most comprehensive, vital 
 and potential of arts, the art of expression, imparted 
 
24 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 to its students a spirit of refinement and culture 
 which was the surprise of every critical listener at 
 its public entertainments. Often, at a Junior exhi- 
 bition, when all the members of the class appeared 
 in turn upon the stage, has the remark been made 
 by visitors, that it was strange so many young men 
 from the city should attend the college. And when 
 I have said, that with here and there an exception 
 the speakers were not from the city, I have been 
 told, that the impression made was otherwise. Nor 
 was the influence one which stopped with culture 
 in speech, appearance, and bearing. It reached 
 taste and sympathy and mind and spirit, and trans- 
 formed the man. 
 
 The occasion to which I referred when quoting 
 from Dr. Prime, is not without significance in this 
 direction. The competition was in the metropolis, 
 the audience one of rare intelligence and culture, 
 the judges of national fame in letters and states- 
 manship, the competition mainly from colleges 
 drawing their support from centres of wealth and 
 refinement, and yet, for two successive years, the 
 honors went to the little country college remote 
 from all the visible influences which would seem 
 essential in the training for success at such a time 
 and in such a place. And so I think, I do not give- 
 too great importance to the value of these annual 
 competitions which as an inspiring and guiding in- 
 fluence in the work of the whole rhetorical course, 
 
1872 TO 1 88s. 25 
 
 touch deep the hfe and impart to it a finer, nobler 
 spirit, as they train the outward man to effective 
 power and grace in speech. 
 
 Henry Allyn Frink. 
 
 Department of Logic, Rhetoric and Public Speak- 
 i7ig, Amherst College. 
 
THE CLARK PRIZE FROM 1886 TO 1891. 
 
 TWO principles governed the choice of the Clark 
 Prize subjects from 1886 to 1891. 
 
 First. That they should be worthy subjects, 
 not curious and beautiful bric-a-brac, but subjects 
 demanding patient study, leading to practical inter- 
 est and calling for earnest advocacy. 
 
 Second. That they should represent more than 
 the rhetorical side of the college training ; — the 
 truth of many departments put in attractive and 
 effective speech. That this ideal was reached by 
 all the subjects of the years mentioned can not be 
 claimed. That it was held before the mind is seen 
 by a careful analysis of the orations, — still more 
 marked could the six of each year be placed side 
 by side. 
 
 The oratorical training of Hamilton has been for 
 the average man and for practical uses. It has 
 been ' ' animated conversation " on vital themes. 
 
 The college has recognized the widening sphere 
 of public speech and the uses of clear, vigorous 
 style in man}^ fields. Hence rhetoric and elocu- 
 tion should not be the rivals of other departments, 
 and least of all independent of them. Other 
 departments train the power of close, logical think- 
 ing, give the habit of painstaking investigation, 
 
1 886 TO i8gi. 27 
 
 furnish the materials of facts and principles, — for 
 oratory to put in worthy written and vocal form. 
 So scholarship is not dumb, but finds her voice, that 
 lays its charm upon the minds of men. 
 
 It is fitting then that the themes for the Clark 
 Prize orations, the best expression of the oratorical 
 training, should be from many fields — representing 
 the studious life of the college. Any system of 
 training with the emphasis that Hamilton places 
 upon her oratory will have its incidental evils. 
 That they do not become inherent depends upon 
 the moral life that directs the training. 
 
 Men have sometimes made a fetish of style. 
 ' ' 'Tis in bad taste " has been the most formidable 
 word, to use Emerson's keen wit at English man- 
 ners. Does it sound well ? has sometimes taken 
 the place of — Is it true ? Will it speak ? has been 
 the question : not Is it my conviction .'' and will it 
 do men good .-* 
 
 The very word Exhibition has its unpleasant sug- 
 gestion, as though truth could be put up for show. 
 The moment a man thinks how well he speaks, 
 that moment he has lost the genuine power of 
 speech. The spirit of reality, that governs the 
 best thought of our generation, that tries men and 
 methods, is rightly impatient of the mere form of 
 oratory, demanding the much within and little with- 
 out, the doing of all for truth and nothing for show. 
 *' Eloquence is a virtue," but the simulation of elo- 
 
28 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 quence is a vice. In fact, glibness of speech and 
 the tricks of elocution are a foe to the highest uses 
 of oratory, the moving of men to noble thought and 
 life. Such a reaction has taken place against 
 * 'palaver," to use Carlyle's contemptuous word, 
 that it is commonly thought that ' ' Eloquence is a 
 gift which the Lord does not often use much for 
 His purposes — it is a prancing palfrey which the 
 Son of Man rarely rides." 
 
 Truth first should be the orator's motto, the man- 
 hood that comes from wrestling with great prob- 
 lems, the humility of standing before unattained 
 measures of life. Then alone is the culture of 
 speech a power. 
 
 ' ' It were to be wished the flaws were fewer 
 In the earthen vessels holding treasure, 
 Which lies as safe as in a golden ewer. 
 But the main thing is — Does it hold good measure ? 
 Heaven soon sets right all other matter." 
 
 The training in style and speech can not be too 
 thorough, if it is kept servant of the man and his 
 message. In no other department is there such a 
 subtle and vital connection between intellectual and 
 moral ideals and the training given as in oratory. 
 When sincerity is the atmosphere, reality the test 
 of word, inflection, gesture ; when young men are 
 taught to find truth, and be possessed of conviction 
 before they open the mouth, oratorical culture 
 
1 886 TO i8gi. 29 
 
 makes every other department of study its debtor, 
 and helps the highest ends of education. 
 
 Arthur S. Hoyt. 
 
 Auburn Theological Seminary, Dec. d, iSpj. 
 
THE MEN WHO SPOKE. 
 
 I HAVE been asked by the editors of this interest- 
 ing volume to write something for its pages; not, 
 I think, because the editors thought that I had 
 something to say, — something that very much 
 needed saying, — about the Clark Prize in oratory; 
 but because I now occupy the Upson Chair of 
 Rhetoric and Oratory in Hamilton College. Surely 
 one who occupies so honored a seat ought to have 
 something to say on so honored a subject. But I 
 understand that my predecessors, the men who 
 during the last forty years have made the study 
 and the practice of the noble art of oratory what 
 it has been and what it is in Hamilton College, 
 have written, historically and otherwise, about all 
 there is to be written on the Clark Prize. "The 
 past at least is secure ; " and he would be a 
 bold man who should venture to prophesy of the 
 future of oratory in Hamilton College. But I 
 think that even a timid man might reasonably ven- 
 ture to hope much for a department which has been 
 reared on the foundations of Mandeville by Anson 
 J. Upson, Samuel D. Wilcox, John J. Lewis, Henry 
 A. Frink, Arthur S. Hoyt and Clinton Scollard. 
 
 As I wrote the names of the men who succeeded 
 Professor Upson, — or should I say. Dr. Anson J 
 
THE MEN WHO SPOKE. 
 
 31 
 
 Upson, Chancellor of the University of the State 
 of New York ? I like the old name best ; I alv/ays 
 think of the beloved man who, more than any one 
 else, made Hamilton College the ' ' Home of 
 Oratory" as ''Prof. Ups," — as I wrote those five 
 nariies, Wilcox, Lewis, Frink, Hoyt and Scollard, 
 it occurred to me that they would serve admirably 
 as the text for my brief discourse ; as a sort of sub- 
 text in the larger discourse on the great text ' ' The 
 Clark Prize in Oratory." Of those five men four 
 were Clark Prize speakers, and three were valedic- 
 torians of their classes. Two, alas, are dead ; but 
 they lived to attain honorable distinction. The 
 others have attained and maintain honorable dis- 
 tinction. Let us see whether the Clark Prize com- 
 petition has attracted the scholars of the college ; 
 let us see whether Clark Prize orators, as a class, 
 have attained and maintained honorable distinction. 
 There have been thirty-eight Clark Prize exhi- 
 bitions, and fourteen valedictorians have competed, 
 and sixteen salutatorians. That but two valedicto- 
 rians, Gardiner and Cole, carried off the prize, while 
 seven salutatorians were successful, proves, — well, I 
 don't know that I am called upon to say what it does 
 prove. A study of the records shows that of the 
 two hundred and twenty-eight men who have spoken 
 for the prize, one hundred and five have been honor- 
 maen. A fair showing certainly, considering that 
 for many years honors were granted to but very 
 
32 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 few men in each class ; to six or eight at the most : 
 a showing that indicates clearly that the honormen 
 of Hamilton have been something more than mere 
 bookmen ; that accurate scholarship and oratorical 
 ability are not, of necessity, antagonistic, as some 
 w^ho sneer at the study of oratory in college, would 
 have us believe. 
 
 At the very first Clark Prize exhibition the vale- 
 dictorian, salutatorian, and third honorman. Stock- 
 ing, Burke, and Hart, competed, and the salut- 
 atorian won. Two years later Herrick Johnson, 
 the salutatorian, took the prize, with the third and 
 fourth men in the class, Arthur T, Pierson and 
 Augustus S. Seymour, competing. It was Saluta- 
 torian Buckingham who won the prize in 1862 ; and 
 it was the third man in his class, Bogue, who the 
 year following carried off the prize from Valedic- 
 torian Van Norden and Salutatorian Adams. Elihu 
 Root was the valedictorian of 1864, but the salut- 
 atorian, Henry M. Simmons, beat him for the prize. 
 It was Fowler, the salutatorian of 1869, who won 
 the prize ; and in 1874, Enos, the salutatorian, was 
 successful over Hemenway, valedictorian, and 
 Blackmar, third honorman. So in 1882, Evans, 
 the salutatorian, was the winner, Valedictorian 
 Dewey being one of the competitors ; and four 
 years later both Valedictorian Tolles and Saluta- 
 torian Hotchkiss were beaten by Honorman Lee. 
 The Class of '87 ought to be proud of its Clark 
 
THE MEN WHO SPOKE. 33 
 
 Prize exhibition, and probably it is. All who 
 spoke were honormen ; and Valedictorian Cole 
 won from Salutatorian Robson, and from third and 
 fifth honormen, Brown and Judson. Since that 
 year no valedictorians have spoken for the prize, 
 and but two salutatorians. Root of '90 and Lee of '91 . 
 And how have these Clark Prize orators carried 
 themselves in the sterner competitions of life ? 
 Among those alive to-day, — there is many a star in 
 the Triennial Catalogue set against the names of 
 Clark Prize men, — among those alive to-day, who 
 have had time enough to show their mettle, I find 
 twenty-eight successful (not mediocre, but success- 
 ful) lawyers ; some of them at the head and front 
 of their profession. There are twenty-six success- 
 ful clergymen ; and of these not one or tv/o only 
 whose names are well-known on both sides of the 
 Atlantic, and across the Pacific. There are at least 
 four worthy to be called statesmen. In business 
 a baker's dozen have proved their right to the ad- 
 jective ''successful." Of editors who have been 
 heard from there are seven. Upon the bench are 
 four Clark Prize men ; one is a Regent of the Uni- 
 versity of the State of New York ; three recently 
 have been appointed delegates to the Constitu- 
 tional Convention ; five are at the head of colleges 
 or seminaries ; thirteen answer to the title "Pro- 
 fessor ;" of poets there are three worthy to wear 
 the bay, and of rhymsters there are many ; the few 
 
34 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 who minister to the aiHng bodies of their fellow 
 men have won unusual distinction ; and who shall 
 say how many call themselves authors ? 
 
 One author deserves especial mention. It is 
 Peck of '59, the author of Peck of '91, who won 
 the prize that year. Scott of '59, w^as the first 
 Clark Prize missionary. He carried his eloquence 
 and his consecrated life to Persia. And Knox of 
 '74, is known better in Japan to-day, than any 
 other son of Hamilton. But I must not forget the 
 maxim of good Mrs. Gamp, Which namin' no 
 names, no offense could be took. Yet, I will add 
 three names. They are from the Clark Prize men 
 of '62. They are Buckingham, Bradbury, and 
 Curran. They are but types of the greater num- 
 ber of Hamilton's" sons, who in the direful days of 
 the sixties went forth from the sheltering arms of 
 their Mother on the Hill, to the stern shock and 
 play of battle. They gave their lives for their 
 country, and we count them among our most suc- 
 cessful brothers, for 
 
 Each 
 
 "They never fail, who die 
 In a great cause." 
 
 ' ' Left a deathless lesson — 
 A name which is a virtue, and a soul 
 "Which multiplies itself throughout all time, 
 When wicked men wax mighty, and a state 
 Turns servile." 
 
 It has been hinted sometimes that interest in 
 
THE MEN WHO SPOKE. 35 
 
 oratory is waning in Hamilton College. I do not 
 believe it. If it does wane, it will not, I think, be 
 because the college authorities lack interest. With 
 five Clark Prize speakers in the Board of Trust, and 
 with a Faculty in which are seven competitors for 
 the great oratorical prize, it is pretty safe to say 
 that there will be no action in either of these bodies 
 tending to belittle the noble art, which so long has 
 been cherished here, and which so amply has repaid 
 the college for her years of sedulous and sympa- 
 thetic encouragement. 
 
 Brainard G. Smith. 
 Hamilton College. 
 
CLARK PRIZE ORATIONS. 
 
 EXHIBITION OF 1855. 
 
 "The Imagination as a Means of Napoleon's Success," 
 John Edmund Burke, 
 William Bonnair Fairfield, 
 William Hart. 
 
 "The Treatment of Aliens in this Country," 
 
 William Henry Jackson. 
 
 "The Risks of Thinking," 
 
 Schuyler Bliss Steere, 
 Solon Walter Stocking. 
 
 THE IMAGINATION AS A MEANS OF NAPOLEON'S 
 
 SUCCESS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM B. FAIRFIELD. 
 
 THERE is a natural tendency among all men 
 when they meet with the word imagination, 
 to affix to it a meaning which places it among the 
 gewgaws and tinsels of intellect. But this is far 
 from its real meaning ; it is not an article for dream- 
 ing, fantastic men alone to deal with ; it is as much 
 the property of the man of the world as the man 
 of letters, as much the property of the soldier as 
 the poet. It is the motive power of the whole 
 machinery of the mind, the origin of our endeavors 
 
38 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 and the promoter of our successes. Thus by a 
 mere conception Mohammed estabhshed the rehg- 
 ion of nations and placed himself at their head as 
 God's prophet. To her influence upon the imagi- 
 nations of her followers, the Romish church owes 
 the power with which she has swayed the world. 
 History teems with instances of imagination deter- 
 mining the success of great men. But amid them 
 all there is probably no better illustration of the 
 influence of imagination upon success in life, than 
 Napoleon. Let us endeavor to point out some of 
 the instances of the influence of imagination upon 
 Napoleon himself, and show wherein it was an ele- 
 ment of success in his career. 
 
 It influenced him most directly and powerfully in 
 his boyhood, and constituted, unconsciously per- 
 haps, the chief motive of those endeavors, which 
 afterwards made him so famous. Of a disposition 
 naturally ardent and impulsive, and educated in an 
 island struggling for its independence, he eagerly 
 seized upon the stories of his country's battles and 
 feasted his young fancy upon legends of chivalric 
 deeds, garnished with all the wild romance of a 
 partisan warfare. These were stories of his native 
 heroes, and so emulous did he become of their 
 names and deeds that his whole ambition was to be 
 of them and with them. When, however, he en- 
 tered the military school of Brienne, a new and 
 wider range for imagination opened before him. 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSss- 39 
 
 Amid its vast libraries but one book seemed to 
 interest and enchain him. With a volume of Plu- 
 tarch as his sole companion, he would retire to the 
 shade of a favorite tree and there read and muse 
 upon the deeds of ancient heroes. Corsica's patriots 
 were soon lost in admiration of those conquerors of 
 old, before whose arms a world had fallen. Under 
 the shade of that tree he would lay and dream day- 
 dreams, and build castles in the air with all the 
 fervency of boyhood. That he did this we have 
 his own confessions to prove, but how far into the 
 future his fancy then flew or how bright that future 
 pictured, we cannot tell. But we knov/ that even 
 then his restless spirit was chafing in its limits, that 
 he was doing deeds he afterward executed, and in 
 imagination leading armies he afterward command- 
 ed in reality. It was at this time he exclaimed, 
 ''With ten thousand men I could conquer all Italy!" 
 His fancy had so brightly clothed the feats and suc- 
 cess of a military life, so grand had it appeared to 
 his imagination that all the powers of his mind were 
 bent to the accomplishment and realization of his 
 idea. 
 
 But while Napoleon in retirement was dreaming 
 and planning ; fate, active without, was exciting a 
 convulsion that would change the wild chaos of 
 -those dreams into a distinctness of form and reality 
 tenable to the monarchies of Europe. At length 
 the revolution bursts out in Paris ; Napoleon silent- 
 
40 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ly and thoughtfully paced its blood-stairxcd streets. 
 He knew that convulsions like these had tossed 
 many a man to the summit of power, and why 
 should they not serve him for- a like purpose ? 
 
 Before him., magnificent even in its ruins, was 
 the throne of France, crumbling beneath the attacks 
 of the infuriated mob, and that throne he might 
 restore for himself, — he, the poor Corsican lieuten- 
 ant, without family, without even a name, might 
 restore it. Surely it was a wild dream, but he had 
 become so accustomed in his boyish imagination to 
 associate himself with great men and great deeds, 
 that it seemed not only possible but probable. The 
 means were around him, ready v/ithin his grasp. 
 That heated fervid mass within and the flames 
 of war without, were the elements he must operate 
 upon. He knew the French to be a nation of 
 fatalists, fond of effect and display, eager after the 
 novel and mysterious, and worshippers of power. 
 To succeed he must impress their imaginations ; 
 that once done and they were but his playthings. 
 Fortune placed him at Toulon ; his success there 
 made him commander at the revolt of the sections; 
 his firmness here placed him at the head of the 
 army of Italy. Once there he caught the echo of 
 his youthful exclamation, ' ' With ten thousand men 
 I could conquer all Italy ! " Now the whole bright 
 field of his youthful imaginings lies spread out be- 
 fore. Fortune smiles upon him and here begins 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1833. 41 
 
 that confidence in himself, which in aftedife was 
 almost sublime. Three Austrian armies fell in suc- 
 cession before him. Victory followed victory. 
 Governments bowed down to him. The pope 
 of Rome received v/hatever termxS he dictated. The 
 gates of the Eternal City flew open to receive him, 
 and Napoleon walks, a conqueror, in the palace of 
 the Caesars. France asks, who is this Napoleon } 
 The answer is, ' ' I am the child of destiny, " and 
 catching at the words, France hails him as a demi- 
 god. 
 
 He had dazzled the French people ; he had en- 
 slaved their imaginations. They loved to talk of 
 his destiny and speculate about it. He was new, 
 he was wonderful, above all he was mysterious. 
 He had becomiC their * ' star in the east, " their Mes- 
 siah. They shouted, he has the stamp of divinity 
 upon his brow, and when after renewed successes 
 he made himself consul and then emperor, * ' It 
 is his destiny," they cried, and murmured not. 
 
 But it was not upon the imaginations of the 
 people alone, that he wrought, but upon those of 
 his officers and men. He went to an army dis- 
 pirited and mutinous. In appearance a mere boy, 
 he commanded generals, gray-haired and scarred 
 with service. His officers doubted, but as victory 
 followed each blow, they wondered that one so 
 young could be so great. He came at a moment 
 
 when a victory would have been regarded as almost 
 4 
 
42 1HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 a miracle, and its originator as a god. So sudden 
 were his movements and so mysterious seemed the 
 success which followed upon each, that they knew 
 not what to think or say of such a man who, lay- 
 ing aside all rules and established tactics, seemed 
 to act from the influence of some superior being. 
 
 But while the French people admired Napoleon 
 and while his generals fought for him, as if for a 
 superior being, he had established himself in the 
 imaginations of his soldiers as their idol. Early 
 impressed himself that he should not die in battle, 
 he was ever in the thickest of the fight. So often 
 had victory followed his movements and so often 
 had the messenger of death been warded off, that 
 his troops thought that death dare not come where 
 he was, that where his eye glanced, there victory 
 lay. He was accustomed before his battles to ap- 
 peal to the imagination of his soldiers. On the 
 eve of one of his battles, under shadow of the 
 Pyramids, he said, ' ^ Soldiers, from yonder pile thirty 
 centuries look down upon you." No more was 
 needed. The imagination of the French soldier 
 saw the spirits of the great Egyptian dead encir- 
 cling the summits of the gigantic creations of their 
 skill. The French soldier was fighting on the bat- 
 tle-fields of nations who centuries before had passed 
 away, and if fall he must the plains of Pharaoh 
 should be his grave and Egypt's Pyramids his mon- 
 ument. 
 
 His army claimed him as their own. So certain 
 
EXHIBIT. ION OF i8ss- 43 
 
 had victory become under his guidance, and so 
 wonderful had his successes appeared, that on the 
 bloodiest battle-field amid the hecatombs of the 
 dying and the dead, he seemed to them rather as 
 the high priest, offering incense to the god of 
 battles than the mercenary soldier. 
 
 A great deal also of Napoleon's success was due 
 to his influence upon the imagination of his enemies. 
 In their vision he was the hydra-headed monster. 
 So suddenly had he loomed up from the mass and 
 mobs of the French revolution ; so lightning-like 
 had been his blows, and so rapid and sure his suc- 
 cess that they began to think him unconquerable ; 
 they felt that they must yield to the irresistible des- 
 tiny of the man. They returned to their homes 
 and painted him as one whose natural element was 
 war, and whose sweetest music was the war and 
 din of battle, and the shrieks and groans of the 
 dying. Disheartened by his many victories they 
 went forth with fear to meet him, while his name 
 as the battle-cry of those victorious legions struck 
 terror to their hearts, and they fled almost without 
 a blow. 
 
 Through all Europe his name paled fair cheeks 
 and many a mother at the thought of him strained 
 closer to her bosom her little ones. Even in Eng- 
 land he had gained and still holds the rivalry of one 
 of Scott's heroes. 
 
 ' ' Chili's dark matron long shall tame 
 The fro ward child with Bertram's name." 
 
44 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Such was the instrument and such the means of 
 Bonaparte's success. His imagination was the 
 source of his endeavors ; his influence upon the 
 imagination of others promoted his progress and 
 ensured his success. He stepped forth upon the 
 stage of action at a time when the world was 
 waiting breathlessly for a prominent actor in the 
 tragedy then enacting in France. Springing from 
 a lowly origin, his rapid rise and continued success 
 dazzled the imagination of both actors and specta- 
 tors. His mind, strong and active, was the basis ; 
 but as in some old cathedral we have seen the sun- 
 light pouring through its stained windows, and 
 tinting with a thousand hues the space within, so 
 imagination penetrates and colors all the deeds and 
 thoughts of Bonaparte. Nature made him a poet, 
 but he preferred to act rather than write a poem. 
 His life v/as one grand epic, and its music, slow and 
 solemn, was chanted in the roar and din of battle, 
 in strain above the praise of critics. From Aus- 
 terlitz, Jena, Lodi, Wagram, the whole world 
 heard it, and when its mournful cadence marked the 
 slow falling of the curtain upon the closing scene 
 at Waterloo, the nations shuddered. 
 
 'Twas there the ' ' harp the monarch minstrel swept' 
 was hushed ; its cords had broken one by one. 
 That harp whose tumultuous strains had charmed 
 the world, and brought its kings in trembling to his 
 feet, was shattered. Upon that field France's 
 brightest light went out ; earth's mightiest poet fell. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1856. 
 
 "The Power of a Belief in an Endless Life," 
 Theodore Beard, 
 William James Erdman, 
 Charles Eugene Knox. 
 
 "Is that Government the best which governs least ?" 
 Edward Curran. 
 
 "The Legacy of Rome to the World," 
 
 Henry Lyman Duguid, 
 Franklin Harvey Head. 
 
 " Alexander Pope as the Literary Exponent of his Times." 
 
 THE LEGACY OF ROME TO THE WORLD. 
 
 by franklin h. head. 
 
 IT is a proposition, capable of easy demonstration, 
 that the influence of every person who ever lived 
 still exists ; that however obscure his station, or 
 hermit-like his life, he still modified to some extent 
 the characters of those around him ; that even the 
 infant, whose tiny wail was heard but for a single 
 hour, far back in the very infancy of nations, still 
 lives in the characters, and acts in the actions of 
 now living men. 
 
 Much more is this true of nations. It matters 
 not whether a nation have a literature or not ; it 
 matters not whether pilgrims from all nations, and 
 devotees from all lands, weep round some stately 
 
46 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Mausoleum o'er her buried arts, or whether the an- 
 tiquary searches in vain for the shghtest traces of 
 her existence ; still her legacy is bequeathed ; still 
 her lesson is spoken. 
 
 Before considering the great and peculiar legacy 
 of Rome, we will examine what Rome is ; to what 
 part of her gorgeous surroundings she is herself en- 
 titled, in her own unquestioned right. Distance 
 has now lent to the achievements of Rome the 
 magic of its enchantment. We are too apt to look 
 upon her as a very El Dorado of political, intellec- 
 tual and artistic wealth. To us, her sages discourse 
 learnedly of the mysteries of life. Forms, which 
 almost breathe, spring from the quarry at the touch 
 of her sculptors. Painters garnish the temples of 
 her gods ; and poets chant their strains at the pub- 
 lic assemblies, and in the palaces of her monarchs. 
 But this gorgeous portraiture represents not native, 
 original Rome. This is Rome clad in the drapery 
 of her Grecian neighbors ; Rome Atticised. Cicero, 
 the philosopher, utters the dogmas of Plato ; Cicero, 
 the orator, follows in the footprints of Demosthenes. 
 Her lyrists warble the songs of Pindar ; her epic 
 master chants the strains of Homer. Not from 
 the purification and sublimation of the beautiful in 
 nature and in themselves, but from the Grecian 
 works do the Roman artists seek their inspiration. 
 
 No ! it is not in the beautiful arts that we must 
 seek the legacy of Rome. They were ever but 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSjd. 47 
 
 exotics there. In the attempts at their culture was 
 shown what Roman genius was not. Her real 
 legacy, the real manifestations of her genius, is in 
 the volumes of her civil and municipal law. 
 
 The Romans were the first people b}^ v/hom law 
 was reduced to the logical exactness of an art, and 
 its application made a science. With the preexist- 
 ent nations the judiciary was well nigh untrammeled 
 by precedent. The judges decided not upon the 
 justice of the cause, but upon the eloquence or in- 
 genuity of its advocates ; not upon the facts pre- 
 sented for their consideration, but as to who had 
 made the most successful appeal to their prejudices 
 or passions. 
 
 How happened it, then, that the Romans were 
 the first to abolish this lawless discretion in judges ; 
 this strong engine of tyranny } One reason was 
 this : From the first they were a nation of warriors. 
 Preparation for the contest was their recreation ; 
 the clangor of arms, their sweetest music. Trained 
 to the most unhesitating obedience, witnessing in 
 every conflict the superiority resultant from disci- 
 pline, they became a nation obedient to law, and 
 from that very fact fitted to be its makers. Their 
 jurisprudence was the product of their genius thus 
 formed, working under circumstances the most 
 auspicious. 
 
 For ages there raged an unceasing strife between 
 the patricians and the people. Where, better than 
 
48 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 in such an arena, could be disciplined the lawgivers 
 of the world ? A conflict for constitutional privi- 
 lege on the one hand, and on the other for natural 
 right ; on the one hand for usurped power, on the 
 other for justice. Amid these continual mental 
 tournaments and compromises was developed the 
 body of their law. 
 
 That for this development was required a high 
 and peculiar order of talent is evident from the 
 rareness of its bestowal. The fundamental princi- 
 ples of justice are few and simple, but to trace out 
 these principles to their legitimate consequences 
 was a work first accomplished in the learned and 
 splendid age of Roman jurisprudence. To the 
 Roman lawyer, alone, has justice unfolded all her 
 mysteries. Although, in the progress of society, 
 countless new questions and new relations have 
 arisen, yet the principles of the Roman law illumine 
 controversial regions which were then undiscovered 
 lands, and guide us through labyrinths which were 
 to them unknown. 
 
 It is impossible to estimate too highly the value 
 of this legacy of Rome. Twice has she conquered 
 the world. Once, by her physical strength and 
 discipline ; again, by her mental prowess. And 
 although her martial supremacy has long since 
 passed away, she yet governs the world by the 
 nobler supremacy of her reason. The arms of her 
 soldiers are palsied ; her generals, with their tro- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1836. 49 
 
 phies, have crumbled to dust ; the hermit makes 
 his home in her stately pavilions ; yet she is not a 
 whit the less the mistress of the world. Before the 
 swaying of her scepter, the law, the great and the 
 gifted of modern times have bovv^ed in willing and 
 obedient homage. 
 
 To write the history of the Roman law for the 
 last two thousand years, is to write the decline of 
 the ancient and the rise of the modern civilization. 
 When, in process of time, Rome had conquered all 
 nations, and had lost herself, her law was yet un- 
 touched by that degradation which marked all 
 things else. That still bore upon every feature of 
 its majestic image, the impress of her highest civil- 
 ization. The signatures of Commodus and Cara- 
 calla, those living, bitter satires on the human race, 
 are appended to some of the purest judicialdecisions 
 recorded in the pandects. 
 
 But when Rome was subdued, when Alaric and 
 Attila, with their hordes, extinguished the last 
 spark of her civilization, feudalism, that giant off- 
 spring of universal war, clasped all Europe in its 
 blasting and v/ithering embrace. Then the thick 
 darkness of intellectual and moral night brooded 
 over the nations ; the Roman law for ages was 
 buried in the libraries of the monks, and liberty and 
 learning, wreathed in cypress, bewailed its remedi- 
 less loss. Then came the dawning of a brighter 
 day ; religion acquired a new vitality, and with the 
 
50 'THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Roman law as its colaborer, went forth to revivify 
 and enlighten humanity. 
 
 From that time the Roman law has been ever 
 widening the sphere of its domain. It is incorpo- 
 rated into the jurisprudence of continental Europe ; 
 and, underlying the common and statute law of 
 England, it has traveled with the Anglo-Saxon race 
 into every province of its world-embracing do- 
 minion. Here, where the lost Atlantis of Plato 
 has reappeared ; here^ where are well nigh actual- 
 ized the dream.ings of that philosopher, the Roman 
 law has acquired for itself a magnificent empire. 
 Unshackled by the feudal and ecclesiastical tyranny, 
 the unyielding conservatism which hampers its 
 progress in the Old World, it bids fair here to work 
 out to the full its mission of beneficence ; to substi- 
 tute for the ruling of old forms and the mummies 
 of dead theories, the domination of strict and scien- 
 tific justice. We resort to the books of the civil 
 law as the ancients to the shrine at Delphi ; but, 
 unlike them, we hear no enigmatical or lying ora- 
 cles. Untinged by the subtle scholasticisms of the 
 middle ages, they ever speak clearly and unmistak- 
 ably the words of political wisdom and of everlast- 
 ing justice. 
 
 Such is the legacy of Rome. And in truth, is it 
 not a great and a noble one } The legacy of Jeru- 
 salem has opened the gates of heaven to man, and 
 given to him who is worthy, a happy and an everlast- 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSjd. 5 1 
 
 ing life. Athens, the home of all the aesthetic arts, 
 has left a priceless legacy of beauty, which shall be 
 to man ''a joy forever." And surely, next in value 
 to these is the legacy of Rome. From woman 
 emancipated, from innocence justified, from hu- 
 manity ennobled, goes up a ceaseless paeon in its 
 praise. Hand in hand with Christianity, it invades 
 the regions of mental and moral darkness, to con- 
 quer, to civilize, and to bless. It is a terror in the 
 path of the oppressor and the doer of evil ; and of 
 the downtrodden and wronged, it might say in al- 
 most the language of Jehovah, "I have seen the 
 oppression of my people, and I have come to deliver 
 them." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1857. 
 
 "The Position of Patrick Henry in American History," 
 George Miles Diven, 
 William Mason Robinson. 
 
 " Assimilation of Character to Objects of Thought," 
 Herrick Johnson, 
 Arthur Tappan Pierson. 
 
 "The Power of Reserve," 
 
 Don Juan Robinson. 
 
 "The Beautiful in its Relations to Christianity," 
 
 Augustus Sherill Seymour. 
 
 " Christian Principle as a Power in Politics." 
 
 THE POSITION OF PATRICK HENRY IN AMERICAN 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 BY GEORGE M. DIVEN. 
 
 T was a most notable feature of our country's 
 struggle for independence, that such a splendid 
 array of extraordinary men were so fortunately con- 
 secrated to its consummation. History indeed 
 teaches us that when a nation is about to break off 
 the tyrannical shackles which have restrained its pro- 
 gress, and take a grand stride in the march of civili- 
 zation, an overruling Providence ever seems to 
 rouse its slumbering genius and raise up men ade- 
 quate to the emergency ; yet nowhere, in all her 
 annals, does she present us with such a devoted 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1837. 53 
 
 band of patriots, daring v/arriors, accomplished 
 
 statesman and able orators. Foremost among this 
 
 noble band — the most remarkable of them all — 
 
 stands Patrick Henry, the orator of the Revolution ; 
 
 "the forest-born Demosthenes, 
 Whose thunder shook the Philip of the seas ; " 
 
 the man ' ' who gave the first impulse to the ball of 
 
 the Revolution." 
 
 The pov/er of eloquence has ever exerted a con- 
 trolling influence upon the human mind. When 
 enlisted in her cause, the orator is freedom's most 
 efficient defender, and his position then becomes 
 one of the noblest which can be granted to man. 
 Such an orator vv^as Patrick Henry, and such a 
 position does he occupy in our history. 
 
 In undertaking to define the position of Patrick 
 Henry in American history, we shall examine his 
 connection with the country in a historical point of 
 view ; and the relation he sustained with the emi- 
 nent men around him. 
 
 When Henry commenced his public life as a 
 member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, the 
 first faint murmurings of the Revolution were be- 
 ginnning to be heard upon our shores. Its voice 
 was low and distant, but to his prophetic soul it 
 foretold with terrible distinctness the coming storm ; 
 as at sea the subdued, hoarse mutterings of the 
 angry wind announce to the mariner the approach- 
 ing hurricane. That first step in the long course of 
 
54 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 British oppression, the passage of the Stamp Act, 
 had just been taken. Though resistance seemed 
 hopeless, though the boldest were struck dumb by 
 the gloomy and portentious prospect before them, 
 and despondency was riveting yet firmer the bonds 
 of tyranny, he, the 3^oungest of them all, stood 
 forth, alone and unadvised, with those memorable 
 resolutions which so fearlessly denied the right of 
 Great Britain to tax America ; and, unterrified by 
 the cry of treason which rang around him, went 
 boldly on, until by his irresistable eloquence he 
 carried them in triumph. Thus was it his sacred 
 privilege to sound the first alarum bell for liberty, 
 whose clear notes ringing through the land, awaked 
 the slumbering friends of freedom and nerved their 
 arms for the coming struggle, and whose swelling 
 echoes, speeding over the broad Atlantic, rising 
 higher with every gale which bore them onward, 
 caused England's king to tremble on his throne and 
 shook to its centre the mighty fabric of his power. 
 
 The same noble daring which distinguished Henry 
 on this occasion, constantly characterized him. 
 We always find him the same bold, independent 
 patriot, ever first to lead the charge against aggres- 
 sion. 
 
 In that illustrious Congress, where, the great 
 men of the colonies were for the first time assembled 
 to deliberate upon affairs of the utmost moment to 
 themselves and their country ; when, weighed down 
 
EXHIBITION OF 18^7. 55 
 
 by gloomy forebodings and the immensity of their 
 task, they sat for some time in awful silence, as if 
 each thus mutely ' ' acknowledged his inability to 
 do justice to the occasion," Henry was the first to 
 break the stillness, and in a speech ' ' that seemed 
 more than that of mortal man," to dispel the heavy 
 charm which bound their lips and urge them to the 
 great work before them. 
 
 Again, in the outlawed Convention of his own 
 Virginia, when the cloud of terrible war just ready 
 to burst over their heads, all still clung to the vain 
 hope of " peace and reconciliation," it was Henry, 
 who, regardless of personal danger in his zeal for 
 his country, roused them from their fearful lethargy, 
 and put new life into their sinking hearts, and led 
 them boldly forvv^ard to the charge, by the prophetic 
 declaration that nothing was left but ' ' an appeal 
 to arms and to the God of Hosts ! " 
 
 We have thus briefly glanced at the three prin- 
 cipal events which give to Henry his position in our 
 history. But we should fail to understand his true 
 position unless we compared him with the other 
 great men by whom he was surrounded. 
 
 As an orator he was the acknowledged superior 
 of all his cotemporaries. Only Richard Henry Lee, 
 his constant friend and firm associate, approached 
 him, but his elegance and classic grace, following 
 the terrible sublimity of the master-spirit, was as 
 the murmuring of a summer's breeze after the 
 crash of the hurricane. 
 
56 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Between Otis and Henry there was indeed a 
 striking resemblance in character and fame. But 
 Otis, inferior to him as an orator, had also less of 
 that resolute determination, that unwavering hope, 
 that almost prophetic foresight which so distin- 
 guished Henry, who was always the same ardent 
 friend of liberty, whom no false allurem.ents could 
 deceive, no fears for his personal safety could pre- 
 vent from firmly adhering to her cause, and whose 
 courage was nerved by inspiring hope in the darkest 
 and m.ost trying hours. It was these rich qualities 
 of heart and mind, added to that other higher gift 
 from nature, the power of eloquence, which made 
 him, preeminently, the orator of the Revolution. 
 
 Patrick Henry was no statesman. He was but 
 "the magnificent child of nature," and nature un- 
 assisted, rarely, if ever, produces a statesman. He 
 had indeed, "that strong natural sense and con- 
 summate knov/ledge of human nature " so necessary 
 to form the foundation of a statesman's character, 
 but he wanted the close application, the severe 
 study, the accurate attention to details, which are 
 equally necessary to rear the superstructure. Hence 
 he v/as unable to share with Franklin, Jefferson, 
 Hamilton and those other transcendent intellects, 
 their labor in rearing upon its firm, base, the mighty 
 fabric of our government. 
 
 As a man, he stood on an equality with all those 
 great Fathers of Liberty, whose unsullied lives 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8s7. 57 
 
 shed such a glorious halo around the sacred altar of 
 our freedom. The same patriotic fires that burned 
 so purely in the breasts of Washington, Hancock, 
 Adams and their associates, blazed constantly in the 
 breast of Henry. From the ancient hills and grand 
 primeval forests where he loved to roam, from the 
 rocks and streams, the sunshine and the storm, 
 from all of Nature's variable forms, with which he 
 loved to hold communion, he caught the unfettered 
 spirit of liberty, and drank deep at her fountains, 
 until her pure currents, mingling with his blood, 
 coursed and thrilled through every artery of his 
 frame. He was the very spirit incarnate of liberty ! 
 Her grand impersonation ! As such he occupies a 
 separate niche in our history. No one shares his 
 greatest honors with him. No one is his equal in his 
 peculiar sphere. 
 
 As he stands alone in the history of his country, 
 so does he in the history of the world. Nowhere 
 else do we find a man of like character, or one who 
 occupied a similar position. As Nature by some 
 strange freak has covered our land with her grand- 
 est works, in seeming derision of her puny efforts 
 in other countries ; as she has given to us Niagara 
 — that wonder of waters ; has here spread out her 
 largest lakes, stretched her longest rivers and piled 
 her loftiest mountains ; so did she by a still stranger 
 freak give to us our Henry, whose innate eloquence 
 should mock the highest attainments of art. 
 
 5 
 
58 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Such was Patrick Henry — the forest-born orator 
 of the Revolution — and such a proud position does 
 he occupy among his compeers. As my imagina- 
 tion carries me back to those dark and trying, but 
 glorious days, v/hen this nation was convulsed with 
 the terrible throes of her birth, I seem to see him, 
 a bright star amidst a mighty constellation, urging 
 on his countrymen and breathing into them his own 
 lofty sentiments. Methinks •! see him, as in 1775 
 he stood in the Richmond Convention — its guiding 
 genius — as with outstretched arms, his eloquent 
 form extended to its utmost height, his every feature 
 kindling with inspiration, and eyes in which the 
 fires of eloquence burned as they never burned 
 before in eyes of mortal man, he gave utterance to 
 that God-like declaration, — ''Give me liberty, or 
 give me death ! " 
 
 Long as these sublime words shall be the watch- 
 words of freemen, and they will be such v/hile the 
 love of liberty shall thrill the hearts of men, will 
 be cherished the name and the fame of Patrick 
 Kenry, growing brighter and brighter, as the prej- 
 udices which still linger around the scenes in which 
 he was an actor, shall fade and be lost to viev/. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1353. 
 
 " The Progress of Popular Sovereignty," 
 
 William Lucas Bostwick, 
 Henry Clay Howe. 
 
 "Unconscious Influence," 
 
 Albert Erdman, 
 Ansel Judd Northrup, 
 Frederick Dwigkt Seward. 
 
 " Sympathy as a Means of Reform," 
 
 George James Sicard. 
 
 " American Indebtedness to Alexander Hamilton." 
 
 "The Legacy of Athens to English Literature." 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE. 
 
 BY FREDERICK D. SEWARD. 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO pairxted a fresco of the 
 ''Naming of the Animate Creation." In the 
 centre is a broad valley, which, full of Eden 
 perfumes and rhythms, is set around with mioun- 
 tains, up whose sides wander herbage and blossom; 
 succeeded by shaggy cedars, creeping to the edge 
 of the snow ; until finally the eye rests on the 
 clouds, who, eagerly watching, are fast anchored 
 to the summits. 
 
 In the valley is Adam, the centre of a vast con- 
 gregation, where is represented all on earth that 
 lives. Close around cluster the most tiny and 
 
6o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 weak ; then in widening circles, the beasts wait, 
 with the beauty and mildness of first creation ; then, 
 the birds, with their glistening plumage and airy 
 lightness of motion. And, beyond beast and bird, 
 beyond mountain peak and the audience of clouds, 
 in amphitheatral state, are gathered the unnum- 
 bered numbers of heaven, crowding together to the 
 very zenith, where the outstreaming glory of light 
 shows God as watching his creatures, still unfallen 
 and of worthy beauty. 
 
 This picture is repeated in the life of every man. 
 Some see only a sensual world — the beasts and the 
 birds ; some glance higher to the mountain peaks 
 and the clouds ; and some see the gathered angels 
 and God's unceasing watch and guard ; but in his 
 own personality, each, like Adam, stands alone, the 
 centre of the world. 
 
 And can we rightly consider man as a central power 
 in the world } One man, amid the millions ! One 
 life in a world of life ! One helpless mortal, amid 
 the hosts of seraphs and archangels ! Can he be a 
 cause of influence — of unconscious influence ; this 
 speck of animate matter affect a world .'' 
 
 In answering these questions we shall consider, 
 
 I. The nature and source of influence. 
 
 II. The cause of unconscious influence, and 
 the proofs of its reality. 
 
 III. The manner of its exercise. 
 
 IV. The extent and significance of unconscious 
 influence. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 185s ■ 6 1 
 
 L What is the influence, where does it reside, 
 and how do we know its reahty ? 
 
 Influence is power in exercise. Power, then, de- 
 termines the locahty of influence. The senses can 
 gain only results ; power itself is not seen or heard 
 or touched. But v/hen we look within, the idea of 
 power is there suggested by the antecedence and 
 sequence of the natural world, by the control of the 
 will over the mind and over the body. These cases 
 appeal directly and purely to the mind ; power, 
 then, must be an attribute of the human mind ; 
 and influence be mental action. 
 
 To the truth of this, each one's observation and 
 consciousness testifies. An intuitive conviction af- 
 firms that in every operation or exercise of the mind 
 power is involved. The likeness to God in which 
 man is created, is another proof, since power must 
 reside in deity ; and the likeness cannot be solely 
 moral, because the moral being is based on the in- 
 tellectual. 
 
 Power and influence are abstract — spiritual — but 
 the existence of mind itself is pledge and proof of 
 their reality. Influence is thus the results follow- 
 ing an active power which can reside only in the 
 mind. 
 
 II. What is the cause of unconscious influ- 
 ence, and the proofs of its reality } Influence is 
 unconscious, because not gained by the perception 
 of the originator. 
 
62 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 The mind is like the ancient god of the Hindoos, 
 who could create nothing" mortal. With the body 
 as a tool, she frames deeds, and gives forth speech, 
 that have undying influence. But she is also de- 
 pendent on the body, and can reach out into the 
 world only v/ith the senses ; and these her vassels 
 are fettered by time, eluded by spirit, and stolen 
 away by death. 
 
 All of the mind's life that is revealed Vv^orks effects 
 in other minds, whither the senses cannot follow. 
 From that realm no miasma of perfumes comes 
 wafting back the story of results ; no answering 
 echo of joy or of v/ailing is heard ; no demons or 
 bright spirits embody the reality of inner life. 
 Throughout history vv^e can see influence thus un- 
 consciously exerted. Actions, though trivial, work 
 out mighty results. Life was carelessly lived, as 
 though it were the passage of a frail bark over a 
 mighty ocean ; and the winds and the waves closed 
 after and retain no impress ; but we can see the 
 rippling about the keels rising in surging waves on 
 distant shores, the gentle breeze, the beating tem- 
 pest, as charged to the safety or the shipwreck of 
 many another voyager. 
 
 Influence is unconscious again, because not be- 
 coming the subject of reflected consciousness. 
 
 Consciousness is the norm^al condition of the 
 mind, in which it takes cognizance of its own 
 states and operations. This consciousness relates 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSjS. ^^^ 
 
 purely to the mind, and is confined to the present. 
 But influence results both within and without, and 
 involves the idea of time. Attention and memory 
 must preserve the conscious act ; when they do not 
 thus combine, the influence becomes unconscious. 
 
 The mind is in this manner unaware of its own 
 states and operations from^ two causes, rapidity of 
 thought and habit. 
 
 The rapidity of thought is beyond analogy or de- 
 fining statement. The ver}^ conception of physical 
 rapidit}^ — the lightning fl_ash, the beam of light, 
 the waves of sound — proves their lagging tardil}/ 
 behind the mind. Does not one met by sudden 
 danger seem to act without thought 1 Could he act 
 at all without volition .^ Could there be volition 
 v/ithout previous perception, reasoning, judgment } 
 Let a man's life depend upon his sudden cries for 
 help. Can you measure the reasoning process 
 which determines him to cry out } Will hundredths 
 of seconds time the search for words, for syllables, 
 for letters .? Attention that should preserve such 
 mental processes can gather only results ; the suc- 
 cession of thought was like the scenes by the light- 
 ning flashed down before us, and as suddenly carried 
 away. 
 
 Habit again causes various and multiplied volition 
 to cling together. So slight and usual becomes the 
 task, that the mind is not aw^are of labor. And the 
 influence of daily, hourly life becomes unconscious, 
 
64 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 because not only are the volitions of the process 
 lost, but attention fails to report the very result. 
 So quick and unnoticed is the action of habit, that 
 philosophers have thought its workings mechanical, 
 automatic. As though habit framed and built up 
 within the mind a wondrous mechanism, where 
 clattering wheels and clanking cogs are reflected by 
 the silent, unseen faculties, and coarse, decaying 
 products by subtile, undying thought. 
 
 But if action thus unconscious is produced, how 
 do we know its existence } It is verified by internal 
 experience. Each one knows himself not swayed 
 by isolated motives and passion ; knows that to ac- 
 complish his life more was needful than the simple 
 volitions he can recollect. He may not be aware 
 of the power of habit or the rapidity of thought ; 
 but he knows that the blanks which memory leaves 
 are not empty or unmeaning. Thought may bring 
 worlds suddenly to view, but not without they were 
 first created. The ruling passion that accomplished 
 the victory is remembered, but there was not need- 
 ful a forgotten army } The fair hope that present- 
 ed the blazoned banner, and urged on with her 
 Godspeed, could not alone have woven the warp 
 or broidered in the woof. The dastard fear would 
 not have made us shrink away, losing honor and 
 position, had he not been the foremost coward of 
 whole battalions. 
 
 We gain only the outline of history's long proces- 
 
EXHIBIT ION OF 1838. 65 
 
 sion ; yet know there have alway been parents and 
 children and lovers ; alway homes, jewels set about 
 love ; alway the fears, hopes, afflictions of personal 
 life. So though the power of thought and habit 
 may have disciplined and mechanized the mind 
 into unconsciousness, we yet know they acted in a 
 continuous and crowded life, and accomplished pur- 
 poses with the aid of unremembered servitors. 
 
 III. In what manner is unconscious influence 
 exercised t It is exerted first by the exemplification 
 in the life of good and bad principles. Whether 
 followed or neglected, good principles are in the 
 world, and give to life potency and meaning. Nei- 
 ther can men utterly fail of their perceptions. Con- 
 science may be lulled and stupefied, but not killed ; 
 it is part of the immortal soul. 
 
 The moral force of example is universal inappli- 
 cation. Daily labors may only be appeciated by a 
 class ; but the moral meaning of a life all know. 
 This influence is unconscious because exerted on 
 every human being. Action, the most trivial ; word, 
 the most careless, each makes impress. Its word- 
 ings cannot be followed, since not felt by reason of 
 study or culture, but faculties that are part of every 
 soul, and derive power from a creating deity. 
 
 Look at Voltaire. See how his daily speech was 
 full of sneers at Christianity, and sarcasms at its 
 professors. Follow this influence from those about 
 him, the leaders of Europe, down among the people. 
 
66 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Could Voltaire see, as we even, how his daily life 
 at Paris and Potsdam and Ferney v/as undermining 
 faith ; unsettling governments ; preparing for war 
 and revolutions ? 
 
 Unconscious influence is exerted by character as 
 resulting in reputatioji. The effect of action can- 
 not return to the consciousness. While the physi- 
 cal results may be traced a little way, no insight 
 can be gained into other minds. And in forming 
 the character of others, reputation exerts its great- 
 est influence. Gleams and bursts may comie back, 
 but very little knowledge is after all gained even of 
 one's reputation or of its effects. Those weaving 
 the famed Gobelin tapestry see only a confused 
 mesh of threads, not the life and beauties of the 
 pictures. So the story of a life is woven by one 
 knowing the crowd of circumstances, and feeling 
 the warping influences ; but looking in this world 
 upon his work. The Chinese mechanics know no 
 more than to copy defects and injuries ; so charac- 
 ters are often built up in a blind imitation of mis- 
 takes and weaknesses. Men grov/ up together as 
 do the trees of a forest. A tree with twisted limbs 
 and leaning trunk always has a neighbor tree in- 
 clined and contorted. So a m_an v/ith bad, mis- 
 shapen character has friends like unto him. Has 
 not Napoleon left an influence in France making 
 the drumbeat pleasant ; war, a gay pageantry ; 
 peace, a tiresome disgrace } If a pure and noble 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1838. 67 
 
 chsTacter give forth a reputation ; an influence will 
 flow out sweet and refreshing. Has not Florence 
 Nightengale made women more beautiful by the 
 weary months she went about the hospital of Scutari, 
 her shadow gratefully kissed by the rude soldier ? 
 The reputation gained by character lives after death, 
 a vital and active power. Byron gilded over de- 
 praved thought with brillia.ncy, and m.ade a bad life 
 seem an element of genius. Through two genera- 
 tions has his reputation withered and blasted in its 
 influence all pure and noble aspirations. Shelley's 
 blasphemies against God and religion would have 
 been despised in a profligate ; by a pure life and 
 generous conduct he made them to many seem 
 worthy a gifted mind and an earnest, truth-loving 
 heart. 
 
 Character lives in history. There are those v/ho 
 trampled all the nobleness of their manhood and 
 their womanhood in the dust, and whose crimes 
 cried unto heaven ; they are the beacon lights of 
 v/arning. There is the bright list of those who 
 have kept present in history a record of true and 
 honorable deeds ; they are the guiding stars of 
 example. 
 
 An unconscious influence is exerted by the action 
 of the mind v/idel}^ diffused. Words are agents 
 of influence. The}'^ go up and down the earth, 
 helping the need}^ You can look into them for 
 historv, as did Solomon into his mirror, in v/hose 
 
68 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 crystal depths were hid all the doings of the king's 
 enemies. Deeds of magic can be wrought with 
 words that dwarf Scheherezade's stories. Battles 
 can be fought with them for weapons ; aye, and 
 they can be sweeter and pleasanter than caresses. 
 
 Are those who found and enrich a language at 
 all aware of this influence } Can they follow words, 
 as they become part of other minds, and descend 
 from generation to generation } 
 
 When the mind busies itself in science and art, 
 her discoveries are mighty in their unconscious in- 
 fluence. Did Galileo, watching the lamp in the 
 church at Pisa, know that the pendulum would beat 
 off the years of human life, determine the weight 
 and figure and orbit of the earth, and prove the 
 law by which the sun, in his leash of gravitation, 
 holds fast thousands of glittering worlds in space, 
 and drives them unresisting through their unseen 
 orbits } 
 
 Unconscious influence is embodied in the book. 
 ^ ^ A book is the incarnation of thought. When 
 thus embodied and embrained, thought walks the 
 earth a living being." Hov/ has Bunyan's Pilgrim 
 wandered over all Christendom, with many beauti- 
 ful eyes dim with weeping as they watch his toil- 
 some way, and many earnest men shouting for joy 
 as he passes safe over into the Celestial City. 
 
 Over half a continent, generations of buried 
 Mussulmans circle about Mecca, the skeleton armies 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1838. 69 
 
 of those who have sought the houries and the nectar 
 and continual blossoming and fruitage of the Koran's 
 paradise. 
 
 By the record of the studies wherewith he whiled 
 away pleasant hours, Bacon changed the science of 
 thought, and prepared the way for Newton's laws, 
 by which the world — the universe, is governed. 
 
 IV. What is the extent and significance of un- 
 conscious influence } 
 
 It is an integral element in the shaping of every 
 human life. It crowds the soul with spirits, more 
 potent than those, who, where at night the sun had 
 gone down upon a desert, built for Aladdin a fair 
 palace, whose forty golden casements were shone 
 upon by the first rays of the rising sun. 
 
 Unconscious influences are about each life, as 
 the angels of the Jewish Rabbis, which in armies of 
 thousands on either hand, contended the good 
 against the bad, about his every word and action. 
 
 Unconscious influence controls the destiny of 
 nations. Acting in their history, fencing them in 
 with customs, swaying their course by precedents. 
 Little thought had the group at Dothan, as they 
 watched the caravan creeping slowly into the dis- 
 tance of the desert, that the Joseph so easily sent 
 from their envious sight, would feed them in famine, 
 give to their children a Goshen and a Canaan, and 
 link together the patriarchs and the nation in the 
 founding of the Jewish theocracy. 
 
70 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Unconscious influence has ruled in the monarchs 
 of the world, framing governments, and building 
 up kingdoms. Follow the path of history. Un- 
 conscious influence has led empire from India's 
 spicy summers, past Arabia's houries, past the 
 Turk's seraglios, where along the Rhine the grapes 
 are changing moonlight into wine, to England's 
 larded streams — armies of prosperity ; and to where 
 the mines and prairies make the lake a field of gold. 
 
 When the last generation shall pass from earth, 
 and the nations assemble about the great white 
 throne, then v/ill Omniscience, in the records of the 
 world's life, reveal the extent and eternal meaning 
 of Unconscious Influence. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1358. 
 
 " The Weakness of Skepticism," 
 
 Charles Anthony Hawley, 
 John Herschell Morron. 
 
 "Moral Principle a Condition of Mental Power," 
 Harlan Page Lloyd, 
 Hector Voltaire Loving. 
 
 "Astronomy as a Field for the Imagination," 
 Horace Robinson Peck. 
 
 " Goldsmith as a Representative Irishman," 
 Joseph Edwin Scott. 
 
 " Crises in American History." 
 
 " English and French Soldiers Compared." 
 
 MORAL PRINCIPLE A CONDITION OF MENTAL 
 
 POWER. 
 
 BY HARLAN P. LLOYD. 
 
 F one who had given the subject no thought were 
 asked, whether moral principle is a condition of 
 mental power, he would probably answer in the 
 negative ; but a little reflection might lead him to 
 change his opinion. So important a question cer- 
 tainly deserves a deliberate discussion. 
 
 Moral principle strictly, is founded on love to 
 man and the dictates of natural justice, and there- 
 fore prompts to good deeds. But we may do good 
 from other motives, and only when the moral prin- 
 
7 2 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ciple is vitalized by religion does it prompt us to do 
 right at all times unselfishly. Hence the highest 
 moral principle includes the religious ; and as this 
 definition of the term coincides with its popular ac- 
 ceptation, we shall so consider it. We would not 
 assert that moral principle, thus defined, is an 
 essential condition of mental power ; but shall 
 simply attempt to prove that it is a condition of the 
 highest power. 
 
 Philosophers generally agree, that the mind is 
 composed of the intellect, the sensibilities and the 
 will ; and that the operations of these three facul- 
 ties produce mental power. Intellect, or the fac- 
 ulty of thought, may undoubtedly act without the 
 moral principle ; but impotent indeed are its un- 
 aided efforts. Voltaire had a fine intellect, but he 
 lacked this principle ; and his life was a failure. 
 His readers are now few, fewer still his admirers, 
 while oblivion is gradually hiding his name and 
 works beneath her dusky wing. An intellect en- 
 tirely self-reliant is over-confident, and cannot 
 attain its highest power ; but with the moral prin- 
 ciple it at once assumes an humbler position. Thus 
 confined to its legitimate sphere, it is strengthened 
 in that sphere. No longer lost in the chaos of ab- 
 straction, it readily undertakes, and steadily pur- 
 sues a rational investigation. It dismisses vain 
 speculation where God has written unchangeable 
 oracles ; it directs the course of reason with the un- 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8sg. 7 3 
 
 clouded eye of faith, and thus secures a vital force 
 of thought. 
 
 Milton's conception of Satan is that of a being 
 eminently intellectual, but destitute of moral prin- 
 ciple. However true, even this conflicts not with 
 our position ; for, having so lately fallen, he must 
 retain something of the nature and power of an 
 angel. But none will doubt that, when at the fiat 
 of a God Satan fell, his intellect fell with him ; and 
 it has since so degenerated that he is now surpassed 
 by the humblest watchman on the battlements of 
 heaven ; while faithful Gabriel towers aloft, his in- 
 finite superior. 
 
 The haughty Pharisee of Tarsus was a mere 
 pigmy in mental power, compared with holy Paul, 
 who, moved with a divine enthusiasm, discussed 
 the grandest topics with such wonderful skill, and 
 transcendent power, that to this day Christianity 
 points him out as her ablest champion. 
 
 The moral principle is also a condition of the 
 highest exercise of the sensibilities. It holds them 
 in control ; it checks the baser passions, subdues 
 the stronger, and strengthens the nobler, refining 
 all till they become able auxiliaries. Then virtue, 
 beauty and sublimity excite pleasurable emotions ; 
 and desires once base are changed to lofty aspira- 
 tions. It infuses enthusiasm through man's very 
 nature, and gives him a wonderful energy of feel- 
 ing. With this Burke and Webster won many of 
 
74 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 their most glorious triumphs. We are not so spell- 
 bound by their powerful logic, as by their glowing 
 fervor, their burning indignation, soul-felt and soul- 
 subduing. 
 
 The grand executive of the mind is the will; and 
 upon this too, the moral principle acts specifically 
 and powerfully. It releases the will from unwhole- 
 some restraint, secures its highest freedom, and 
 fixes it firmly to some definite purpose. From the 
 vault of heaven a thousand beauteous orbs shine 
 upon the mariner, but the skillful navigator, confi- 
 dently fixing his eye on the north star, neglects all 
 others, or uses them only as collateral aids. So a 
 thousand motives may affect the will ; but he who 
 would guide the mind aright must make the moral 
 principle his polar star. Force of will is often 
 destroyed by a constant struggle between desire and 
 duty : this principle harmonizes these antagonistic 
 motives, and, as the promptings of the two coin- 
 cide, there results a vast increase of power. Such 
 was the iron will of Cromwell. The once stam- 
 mering plebeian now pours his burning invective 
 against King Charles, gathers about him those irre- 
 sistible Ironsides, and as the thrilling words of the 
 ancient prophet fall from his lips, hurls them with 
 resistless fury on the foe, till the haughty cavaliers 
 of England, though led by Rupert himself, bending 
 low before his superior power, are forced to yield 
 the victory. So it was in the cabinet, where, by a 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8sg. 7 5 
 
 hundred of the boldest deeds which human intellect 
 has planned, or human arm achieved, he has shown 
 the world how moral principle strengthens the will, 
 and vitalizes the whole mind. 
 
 Thus, in the three great sources of mental 
 strength we have seen that moral principle is a con- 
 dition of the highest power. 
 
 But the three departments of mind are one in 
 nature and action, and viewing the mind as a unit, 
 this principle is a condition of its highest power. 
 Without it, a mind will be irregularly developed ; 
 undue attention will be given to some particular 
 faculty, and the mental power is either lost in aim- 
 less exertion, or finds expression in one direction 
 only, presenting to the world the wavering skeptic, 
 or the man of one idea. 
 
 In this respect the moral principle is a harmoniz- 
 ing principle, and it gives a symmetrical develop- 
 ment to the mind. It does not allow one part to 
 outstretch another, but smoothing excrescences, 
 and supplying deficiencies, it moulds the plastic 
 mind after the fairest models, blending and concen- 
 trating, till it secures unity and symmetry. 
 
 It is also a directing principle. It selects the 
 most appropriate objects of mental pursuit, and 
 guides the mind in the best course to attain those 
 objects. 
 
 It stops not here, for it is a liberating principle. 
 It comes to the man of superstition, or of preju- 
 
76 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 dice, and frees him from mental thraldom. As he 
 breathes the air of freedom, a divinity works within 
 him : emotions hitherto unfelt, and powers before 
 unknown, fill his mind, thrill his soul, and nerve to 
 action. It frees genius from those vices and errors 
 which so often weaken its powers. Passion no 
 longer blights the God-given intellect. Coolness 
 of reflection, firmness of purpose, and patience of 
 hope, cast their bright light in upon the soul, like 
 the sunrise upon mountain summits, rousing us to 
 activity, and inspiring us for the noblest labors of 
 life. 
 
 Again, the moral principle is elevating. It raises 
 the mind above the objects of mere sense, and dis- 
 closes spiritual views. Selfishness is dethroned ; 
 and thus the mind acquires a disinterested love of 
 truth. If truth be followed disinterestedly, the 
 mind advances rapidly, for thought will expand by 
 its own elasticity when the pressure of selfishness 
 is removed. Thus working in harmony with the 
 divine will, it steadily moves in the sphere for which 
 God designed it, and finally attains its normal con- 
 dition of glory and power. 
 
 Therefore, as a mind either unnaturally developed, 
 or without a fixed aim, a mind either enslaved by 
 passion and prejudice, or confined to mere physi- 
 cal objects, is necessarily limited in its action ; the 
 moral principle, having a power peculiar to itself 
 as a harmonizing, a directing, a liberating and an 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSsg. 7 7 
 
 elevating principle, is a condition of the highest 
 power. 
 
 To this general view of the subject two objec- 
 tions are made ; first, that moral principle is often 
 found without mental power ; and second, that 
 mental power is likewise found without moral prin- 
 ciple ; hence it is said that the one can not be a 
 condition of the other. 
 
 Now the first objection has no force, for we do 
 not maintain that this principle alone constitutes 
 power ; but we simply contend that it is a condition 
 of the highest power of a mind, whatever may be 
 its natural endowments. Yet many an humble 
 man, to whom these objectors scornfully point, by 
 cherishing the moral principle, has gained an in- 
 tense energy of mind. History has repeatedly 
 proved that real greatness and real power are not 
 confined to the famous. A thousand precious gems 
 have been discovered by humble explorers in the 
 mines of truth, and a thousand touches of exqui- 
 site beauty have been added to the temple of human 
 knowledge by unpretending artists. In the long 
 passing of the ages, thousands of humble men and un- 
 assuming women, inspired by the moral principle, 
 have conquered temptation, torture and death, to 
 live forever on the lips of men, and to take their 
 seats among the immortals, with brows glittering 
 through all eternity with the martyr's crown. 
 Moral principle was almost an absolute condition of 
 
7 8 THE CLA RK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 their mental power ; hence the first of these ob- 
 jections can have no weight. 
 
 To sustain the second, men point to the ancient 
 Greeks, and to the sensuous, misanthropic Byron. 
 Though this is not a fair objection to our position, 
 it is often urged. 
 
 Now, the masses of the Greeks were at no time 
 cultivated in the highest sense of the term, and 
 their reputation for refinement arises from the halo 
 of glory which lingers around their philosophers, 
 artists and orators. But even their culture was an 
 imperfect one, as they lacked both depth and com- 
 prehensiveness. Then, too, Socrates, Plato, and 
 Aristotle, those who contributed most to the glory 
 of philosophic Greece, were men whose minds were 
 strengthened by the highest moral principle then 
 known. The same may be said with equal truth 
 of her orators, poets, and artists, of Homer and 
 Demosthenes, of yEschylus and Phidias. There- 
 fore, as an imperfect moral principle did so much 
 for the Greeks, and as no one will pretend that 
 they attained the highest mental power which they 
 were capable of reaching, we think that this appar- 
 ent objection really strengthens our position. 
 
 Byron has been maligned by his enemies, and 
 overrated by his friends. If we look dispassion- 
 ately we shall find that many were charmed with 
 his brilliancy, but that this brilliancy was the glare 
 of the meteor, rather than the steady light of an 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSsg. 79 
 
 enduring sun. All acknowledge his power, but this 
 power was the phrensied struggle of a captive 
 bound by his vices, and goaded by his persecutors ; 
 not the majestic strength of " a freeman whom the 
 truth makes free." Byron had a spiritual nature 
 ever struggling for expression ; and occasionally it 
 found utterance in noble thoughts ; but he had 
 nothing to give balance and symmetry to his mind ; 
 hence his errors and his weakness. Erratic and 
 meteoric, he was brilliant, but not strong. Com- 
 pared with many of his cotemporaries he was in- 
 deed great ; but, compared with what it might have 
 been with a vitalizing moral principle, his strength 
 was weakness itself. 
 
 Thus it ever is. Immoral men may succeed tem- 
 porarily, they may even become famous by talent 
 or cunning, but they have not genuine power. The 
 real pioneers of mind, and the real standard bear- 
 ers of truth, ever have been, and ever will be, 
 moral men. Notice two men of equal natural en- 
 dowments, the one without, and the other with the 
 moral principle. You will see the mind of one 
 fickle, misguided, and enslaved ; that of the other, 
 vigorous and elevated. While the first expends his 
 strength in evading duty, the other goes straight 
 forward and accomplishes the noblest results. The 
 one is the demagogue and the traitor, Aaron Burr ; 
 the other is the statesman and the patriot, Alexan- 
 der Hamilton. In the one you may see Pizarro, 
 
8o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 leading the avaricious Castilians to secure the riches 
 of Peru ; in the other you may see Columbus, 
 overcoming difficulties and dangers, till the shores 
 of a new world break upon his vision, and success 
 crowns the labor of years. 
 
 Plant this principle in the mind of the lawyer, 
 and he is no longer the "hack of the forum," but 
 an able, noble, man ; he is Theodore Frelinghuy- 
 sen, personifying eloquence and power in the sphere 
 of the law. 
 
 It enables the orator to sway at pleasure the 
 mind of multitudes ; you feel it in the vigorous 
 logic of Brougham, in the glowing fervor of Henry, 
 and in the winning grace of Wirt. Unite it with 
 a massive intellect and you have the statesman. 
 Such a union has given us our Burke and our 
 Chatham, our Clay and our Webster. It changes 
 the dogmatist to a reformer, and fires the brain of 
 every leader in ' ' the great insurrection of human 
 thought against authority." It burned in the heart 
 of Luther, and gave the youthful Calvin the strength 
 of an intellectual giant. In a Sunnyvale of France, 
 it came to a peasant maiden, with the sound of the 
 sweet cathedral bells, and awoke in her such power 
 that all the world gazed in admiration upon Joan of 
 Arc. Even the mailclad warrior feels it. In every 
 age it has nerved the heart of the bravest men ; 
 and from a myriad champions of liberty praises to 
 God have mingled with the peans of victory. It 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8sg. 8i 
 
 brings to the poet those flowers of the imagination 
 which are richest in beauty, and sweetest in per- 
 fume. To the Hebrew bards it brought the highest 
 of all inspiration ; to Milton it gave that unrivalled 
 grandeur and sublimity, and enabled Shakspeare so 
 to strike the cords of the heart that they will ever 
 vibrate. It is the only reliance of the true philoso- 
 pher. Nowhere in the cavilings of Gibbon, or 
 Voltaire, can you find such a thorough knowledge 
 of nature as Newton possessed, or such a perfect 
 philosophical system as Locke developed. Skep- 
 tics may skim the surface of mind, and atheists 
 labor in physical research, but that philosopher is 
 unworthy of the name, who, while tracing the 
 sequences of nature, or the laws of mind, does not 
 acknowledge God as the author of both. In every 
 sphere of mental action, moral principle is a con- 
 dition of the highest power. It gives to the world 
 those '' giants of the soul," who, one after another, 
 rise to redeem the reputation of the race. And in 
 the long night of ages, it has been the fiery pillar, 
 which has guided the weary hosts of humanity, in 
 their toilsome march from mental servitude, to the 
 blessed land of promise, with its freedom, knowl- 
 edge and power. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1860. 
 
 "The Narrowness of Human Knowledge," 
 
 William Harrison Beach. 
 
 "Architecture as Expressing National Character," 
 Reuben Saxton Bingham. 
 
 " Submission to Law a Condition of Liberty," 
 Area Brookins, 
 Samuel Miller. 
 
 " Memory as a Retributive Power," 
 
 John Reese Lewis, 
 Milton Harlow Northrup. 
 
 "The Influence of Individuals in a State." 
 
 "The Heroines of History." 
 
 MEMORY AS A RETRIBUTIVE POWER. 
 
 BY JOHN R. LEWIS. 
 
 REMEMBRANCE is the basis of eternal knowl- 
 edge, the great spontaneous occupation and 
 operation of our intellect. Without it all processes 
 of induction, all reasoning, all knowledge, aside from 
 the evanescent sensations of the present, would be 
 impossible. Memory is the taxgatherer of the 
 past ; or rather the great censustaker, making no 
 partial, periodical returns, but with eternal vigi- 
 lance ever trumpeting in our ears the statistics of 
 all time. Science, history, all literature is but the 
 embodiment of remembrance. The world of 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. Zt, 
 
 thought and of feeHng, of imagination and of genius, 
 grows out of it. All the past is remembrance — we 
 are living in remembrance. 
 
 Retribution is a law of God, emblazoned every- 
 where. Reason and revelation alike teach it ; human 
 law aims at it ; natural and divine laws always 
 accomplish it ; eighteen hundred years ago the 
 great Lawgiver proclaimed it, ' ' whatsoever a man 
 soweth, that shall he also reap. " Retribution prop- 
 erly signifies a repayment — a reward. Thus virtue 
 and vice, truth and error, invariably receive the 
 repayment, the retribution they deserve. 
 
 It is proposed to examine how far memory, so 
 important, so intimately woven with our existence, 
 is adapted to become, and to what extent it does 
 become an agent in the great law so often and with 
 such solemnity proclaimed. 
 
 Away down in the intricacies of man's moral 
 nature is a mysterious and inexplicable power 
 which decides upon the quality of his thoughts, 
 emotions or acts — which approves the good and 
 condemns the bad. A power wondrous and 
 peculiar in this — that its sentence carries with 
 itself the highest reward, or the most terrible 
 punishment. The guilty soul shrinks from it and 
 struggles to stifle its voice as the only escape from 
 the terrors of remorse. But it is only when com- 
 bined with memory that conscience thus becomes a 
 means of retribution. Alone, it is simply a judge ; 
 
84 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 decides between right and wrong, good and evil ; 
 admonishes, promises retribution, but never inflicts. 
 Were an act at once forgotten, the power of con- 
 science would end with its commission. Nay, the 
 voice of conscience would often not be heard at all. 
 It is only on reflection, that conscience unbiased by 
 passion and desire, is able to decide impartially, 
 and to show the guilty soul the full enormity of its 
 crime. Retribution neither precedes nor neces- 
 sarily attends the act, but follows it. Hence mem- 
 ory is necessary to the very idea of conscience as a 
 means of retribution. Conscience and memory are 
 coworkers, intimately bound together, and only 
 when thus combined, invested with their fearful 
 power. It is then only that conscience unites the 
 executive with the judicial. Conscience can never 
 -sting the soul whose guilt is not remembered. In 
 this combination it is memory that furnishes the 
 materials for conviction. It is memory that ar- 
 raigns the accused at the bar. It is memory that 
 inspires with life the worm that never dies. Mem- 
 ory is a retributive power. 
 
 Retribution presupposes conscious personal identi- 
 ty; conscious personal identity presupposes memory; 
 yet memory in its subtle and mysterious workings, 
 far transcends the most rigid analysis. It may be an 
 object of wonder and admiration, it cannot be ac- 
 counted for. * ' It is an ultimate and inexplicable 
 fact." It is the great receptacle of past impressions. 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 85 
 
 It retains whatever has once passed through the 
 consciousness — even our perceptions, our concep- 
 tions, our vohtions. RecaUing, recollecting, re- 
 membering past experiences, it retraces, retracts, 
 renews, revives them ; enables us to live them over 
 again in all their vividness. It serves as a link in 
 bringing our thoughts and lives together ; produces 
 a completeness and continuity. It is moreover a 
 power bestowed upon every child of God. We 
 may not all possess the voluntary power like the 
 man mentioned by Seneca, who after hearing a new 
 poem claimed it as his own, and demonstrated 
 his claim by repeating the poem from beginning to 
 end, which the poet himself could not do. We 
 may not be able to name with Themistocles the 
 twenty thousand citizens of Athens ; or with Cyrus 
 call by name every soldier in his army. Yet from 
 the various and interesting phenomena of involun- 
 tary memory we have reason to believe that the 
 mind can retain all past experience ; that without 
 being aware of it we possess large stores of recorded 
 impressions, so preserved that at the proper time 
 they will be perceived and remembered. The an- 
 cients were accustomed to write upon parchment ; 
 and when at a later period the monks had no fur- 
 ther use for what was written, it was erased and the 
 same surface covered again ; thus a palimpsest was 
 produced. A modern process has been discovered 
 by which the first impressions on the palimpsest 
 
86 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 may be rendered visible and thus records that were 
 lost for ages have been found. The human mind 
 is a palimpsest. On its tablets many successive 
 impressions have been written. The early ones 
 have been apparently erased and forgotten, and 
 others imprinted in their place, but the spiritual 
 chemistry of the hereafter will bring to light these 
 hidden characters, and the long lost records of our 
 lives will be recorded and remembered. 
 
 Memory is set in motion in various ways. It is 
 reached by all the senses. The sudden, the instan- 
 taneous manner in which memory by a single signal 
 casts wide the door of its dark storehouse, where 
 long past events have been shut up for years, is 
 strange — perhaps the strangest of the mind's intri- 
 cacies. That signal, be it a look, a pressure of the 
 hand, a familiar voice, a tone, or an odor, is the 
 cabalistic word of the Arabian tale ; at the potent 
 magic of which, the door of the cave of the robber 
 Forgetfulness is cast suddenly wide, and displayed 
 are the treasures he had so cautiously concealed. 
 Something "strikes the electric chain wherewith 
 we are darkly bound" and instantly there rushes on 
 us faces, forms, emotions and deeds we thought 
 buried forever. 
 
 ' 'As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes 
 The sinking stone at first a circle makes, 
 The trembling surface by the motion stirred 
 Spreads in a second circle — then a third, 
 Wide and more wide the floating rings advance, 
 Fill all the watery main, and to the margin dance." 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 87 
 
 While therefore in one sense the memory with 
 all its stores is ours eternally, in another sense it is 
 not ours. We rather are the subjects of memory. 
 It is not ours at will to say what we will remember 
 and what we will not. We cannot banish at pleas- 
 ure disagreeable and annoying recollections. Mem- 
 ory confronts us with our offences and our sins. 
 The guilty soul cannot escape ; the ghost of mur- 
 dered youth will not down at its bidding, but starts 
 up in ten thousand quarters to torment it. 
 
 Again memory is especially fitted for this work of 
 retribution by the avidity with which it seizes upon 
 great moral truths. Dr. Moffat relates that having 
 once preached to a company of African savages, one 
 of his hearers, at the close, repeated the entire ser- 
 mon with great animation. The missionary ex- 
 pressed surprise at such a feat of memory. ' ' When 
 I hear anything great," said the savage, pointing to 
 his forehead, "it remains there." x\nd so it is 
 with us all. Our perception of great truths is al- 
 most intuitive, and memory never fails to note any 
 transgression, and to stamp the record in characters 
 indelible. In the language of the poor African ^ ' it 
 remains there." 
 
 Conscious guilt has a terrible effect on our nature. 
 The mental faculties are most keenly alive, vigor- 
 ous and intensified in their workings. Agree we 
 must with the dead, yet living, more than Addison 
 of American literature whose touching ' ' sorrow for 
 
S8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 the dead," becomes the affecting language of our 
 hearts. "Every unkind look, every ungracious 
 v^ord, every ungentle action comes thronging back 
 upon the memory, and knocking dolefully at the 
 soul." Who that has tried to be free from the con- 
 templation of his own depraved nature, does not 
 know that every polluted image or picture which 
 his fancy has formed, is securely deposited in his 
 memory ; that every unhallowed thrill of sensual 
 desire which has swept over his spirit, has left im- 
 perishable traces of its passage ? Every deadly 
 incident of guilt is a serpent attracting us to itself ; 
 rearing its head and darting its forked tongue with 
 a dreadful hiss of fascination. Asleep or awake 
 memory enables that frightful monster to fasten its 
 glittering eye upon us and rob us of repose. The 
 terrible scene in Macbeth is no mere fiction. Here 
 as elsewhere, "murder will out." Lady Macbeth, 
 unable to rid herself of the hellish spot which 
 clings to her own hand, feigns courage, and at- 
 tempts to console her husband. But dread seizes 
 the guilty Macbeth. Doomed to gaze again and 
 deliberately at his deed of blood, in his fear he 
 cries : 
 
 ' ' Metliought I heard a voice cry, ' Sleep no more I 
 Macbeth does murder sleep ' — the innocent sleep, 
 Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care. 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath. 
 Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 89 
 
 Chief nourislier in life's feast, — 
 
 Still it cried ' Sleep no more ! ' to all the house : 
 
 ' Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
 
 Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more.' 
 
 To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself." 
 
 Guilt gives sleep a tongue. "Infected minds to 
 their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets." 
 What signifies Eugene Aram's fearful dream } 
 Memory transforms that bloody scene into a tragedy 
 of which the murderer is himself the victim. The 
 buried corpse is alive again. The assassin sees fixed 
 upon him the entreating look, and in his ear rings 
 forever the despairing cry for life. He cannot rest : 
 
 ' ' The universal air 
 
 Seems lit with ghastly flame ; 
 Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes 
 Are looking down in blame ! " 
 
 He sees himself a murderer, and every effort to 
 flee from and forget it makes him remember it the 
 more. 
 
 Less tragical, but hardly less terrible, is the ex- 
 ample of Aaron Burr. After enjoying the delights 
 of the most accomplished society ; wielding an influ- 
 ence hardly second to any American, and occupying 
 one of the highest official positions in the gift of his 
 countrymen ; his old age was as signal in its retri- 
 butions as his youth and early manhood had been in 
 its triumphs. Although he suffered no legal inflic- 
 tions, memory lavished more terrible punishments 
 than human courts could have prescribed. Think 
 7 
 
90 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 you he did not again see, and deliberately, the faces 
 of his victims ? Did not the ghost of the murdered 
 Hamilton liit before him, and like those which on 
 Bosworth Field appeared to the terrified eyes of the 
 ' ' deformed archfiend, " strike terror and dismay to 
 his heart ? 
 
 The inspired page is alive with illustrations of 
 the retributive effects of memory. Peter denied 
 his Master, and for awhile was comfortable ; but 
 when he thought thereon, he wept. Judas, when 
 he reflected, saw as he had not seen before, the 
 enormity of his sin, and in anguish cast down the 
 price of the Saviour's blood and rushed out and 
 hanged himself. Herod, too, that Richard trans- 
 ferred to holy writ, was so troubled by the remem- 
 brance that he had murdered John the Baptist, that 
 he could think Christ none other than his victim 
 raised from the grave. 
 
 Why is it we regard solitary confinement without 
 labor in stone walls as the worst form of punish- 
 ment } And why have criminals until thus incar- 
 cerated often shown no uneasiness on account of 
 their crimes "^ Simply because the imprisoned, 
 lonely victim can find nothing to do but to remem- 
 ber, and every thought of the past rolls over him as 
 billows of fire. In the old State's prison of Con- 
 necticut this form of punishment was employed as 
 the extreme of severity. There was an apartment 
 of the prison which was round and dug from the 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 
 
 91 
 
 solid rock — a silent, solitary sepulchre of stone. 
 Chained to the floor and to his own reflections was 
 the convict. He looks about him. One unvarying 
 roundness meets his eye. His mind must have its 
 subjects for contemplation. His cell failing to fur- 
 nish them, he is forced to look in upon himself, 
 and the busy power of memory recalls a legion of 
 scenes the most sad and torturing. For a few 
 days the unfortunate endures his suffering, but un- 
 able to survive his agony longer, he cries out : 
 * * Give me something to do — at least something to 
 look at — or if that can not be, give me a cell that 
 is not round — one that has some inequalit}^, or 
 corner, or crevice — something on which I can fix 
 my aching eye — something to occupy my aching 
 thought — something to ward off the retributions of 
 memory." 
 
 There is thus implanted in every human being a 
 power potent for the punishment of sin. God's 
 command is "Remember," and that command if 
 observed at no other time, shall, as we approach 
 the grave, obtain a sad and unwilling obedience. 
 At that dread hour memory will be true to her 
 office, our former sins stripped of their pleasures 
 will retain their guilt. As nearer and nearer the 
 wan messenger approaches, the more silently in- 
 tense and terrible is the power of memory. It rings 
 from scoffer and infidel the confessions that come 
 only too late. 
 
92 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 But memory is retributive in another sense — 
 when recalHng the sunny scenes of the past ; lead- 
 ing us back to the beautiful, sportive, joyous days of 
 youth, when earth appears an Eden revived ; the 
 sunshine seems to encircle the world, flood it with 
 far richer glory, and flush the hills of dawn with 
 purer sapphire. The bobolink pours from his glad 
 retreat a brighter shower of musical trills and ec- 
 static warblings, falling like pearls and diamonds, 
 shattered and sparkling in the azure atmosphere ; 
 and when the ' ' sun wraps his robes about him 
 Caesar-like to die," the uplands in the distance are 
 suffused with such crimson light as shall smile no 
 more upon our prosy world. I live again in that 
 fair time ; and who does not } Its beauty, its gay 
 scenes and sounds echo like the ''fine horns of 
 elfland faintly blowing," yet loud enough to fill the 
 heart with life and joy. The memory of these 
 pleasant scenes, lovely as foliage seen in water, 
 are the oases in the desert of life which shall 
 never fail us. 
 
 ' ' Time but the impression stronger makes, 
 As streams their channels deeper wear. 
 
 Every event in our personal history accom- 
 panied with great joy or sorrow stands out like 
 the sharp angles of a pyramid in our memory. As 
 the poor exiled Jews, unable to forget their beloved 
 and beautiful Jerusalem, in captivity sitting by the 
 ruins of Babylon, tears gushed from their eyes, and 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 93 
 
 they hung their harps on the willow as they re- 
 remembered Zion, her gates and fountains, her 
 pleasant dwelling places and temples. No lifeless 
 abstraction of the head was the Holy City, but a 
 sacred and delightful image of the heart. Hence 
 it was that in their solitude and sorrow she arose 
 before them so distinctly the ' ' morning star of 
 memory." 
 
 Sweet are the pleasures — the pleasures of mem- 
 ory even though innocent, and through no merit of 
 ours ; but the pleasure flowing from the remem- 
 brance of good deeds, who shall adequately ex- 
 press ? 
 
 In the picture of Corregio, called Natte, we are 
 told the light by the painter's skill is made to ra- 
 diate from the head of the infant Saviour; so, not 
 to speak irreverently, from the good deeds of life 
 shines a light of serenest beauty. 
 
 Pleasant memories ! They come upon us from 
 every quarter and buoy up the heart under the 
 severest afflictions. Blind Milton can sing of para- 
 dise. Galileo in the cold dark prison can hold 
 sweet converse with nature. Bedford jail, though 
 dark and gloomy, can inspire Bunyan's immortal 
 dream. Nor is death dreaded to the memory stored 
 with experiences of faith and noble deeds. The 
 grim messenger is welcome, and the dying can 
 truly say : ' ' O, grave, where is thy victory ? O 
 
94 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 death, where is thv stiiis:" ? " Such is the retributive 
 aspect of memor}^ in the present hfe. 
 
 " Our acts our angels are, or good or ill. 
 Our fated shadows that walk by us still." 
 
 But what is the present hfe ? It is but a pre- 
 face — a stepping-stone to an eternal hfe hereafter. 
 And what is the hfe hereafter, but the present hfe 
 hved over and over again } There is an immortal 
 principle and a connecting link between the present 
 and the future. 'Tis memor}' that spans the great 
 gulf between the life on earth and the life of eter- 
 nity. Here a veil obstructs the mental vision. But 
 when man shall appear before the judgment seat of 
 Christ, when he shall enter into the full reality of a 
 world of spirituality ; when the mind, matured, de- 
 veloped, perfected, shall be able to take a compre- 
 hensive view of our relations to God and man ; 
 when it shall be able to realize all the great truths 
 of human life — then, amidst the woes and anguish 
 in the world of despair, the doomed sinner shall 
 live over and over again his life on earth, and con- 
 science shall eternall}' force upon him the awful 
 truth that those deeds vrhich memory treasures, 
 are the cause of his banishment and separation 
 from his God ; then, and not till then, will man 
 fully comprehend the terrible extent of memor3^'s 
 retributive power. Then shall Dives see Abraham 
 and the shining- heavenlv ones from afar, and be- 
 
EXHIBITION OF i860. 
 
 95 
 
 seech but a drop of water to relieve his misery, but 
 shall hear again his sentence : ' ' Remember that 
 thou in th}^ lifetime receivedst thy good things." 
 
 Or again, when at God's right hand, the re- 
 deemed shall superadd to the joys of their heavenly 
 presence the memory of their deeds of love and 
 acts of faith on earth ; when thrilling strains of 
 angel voices in the great choir of heaven filling the 
 soul with joy unspeakable as it casts its crown at 
 the Saviour's feet, suggesting other scenes ; when 
 the arches of Christ's sanctuary fairly ring with the 
 praises of his followers-; then shall God unfold to 
 man the real import of memory — Retributive Mem- 
 ory. 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSoi. 
 
 '* Satire as a Means of Reform," 
 
 Thomas William Chesebrough. 
 "The Effect of Ciiltiire upon Unanimity of Opinion." 
 
 Albert Lucas Childs. 
 ''Representative Poets," 
 
 James Sanpfokd Gkevks. 
 " Character Developed by Emergencies," 
 
 John Davis Jones, 
 
 George Hill Stark, 
 "Intellectual Honesty," 
 
 George Jay Xoktu. 
 "The Compensations of History." 
 ••National Sono-s." 
 
 REPRESENTATIVE POETS. 
 
 l^V JAMES S. GKEVES. 
 
 POETRY is as various as human life, and his is 
 no narrowly tethered i^eniiis, whose range in 
 this sphere entitles him to a seat in the Parnassian 
 court as a representative poet. 
 
 Presuming to don an humble livery in the Muses' 
 service, it shall be ours to examine the claims of 
 each one of the inspired throng, and determine who 
 bear credentials of representatives to their punctil- 
 ious court. 
 
 The five ii"reat oceans of the earth are in truth 
 
EX/Jin IT/ON OF 1 86 1. 97 
 
 but one vast animate whole, from the ghttering 
 shores of the ♦ Indian sea, away to those regions 
 where pearly bands of everlasting ice hush the 
 waters into a silence fearfully audible. So poetry, 
 though distinctly called heroic, lyrical, dramatic, 
 pastoral, is not thus distinctive in character. These 
 are but names for different manifestations of the 
 same spirit. A division of poetry grander far than 
 this, ever the same in essence, yet in different ages 
 bearing the mould of different nationalities, gushes 
 from the sward of a nation's inner life tinctured with 
 each learned, sacred, and lovely thing it touched in 
 rising. He only is worthily a representative poet, who 
 thus bodies forth, in whatever form of verse, the deep, 
 unwritten, only true life of the nation that fostered 
 him ; and this shall be our criterion. 
 
 When poetry was young, civilization was young ; 
 and the bright Orient was the cradle of both. 
 Amid the darkness of a world-wide erring faith, a 
 line of supernatural light marked the path of God's 
 first people. With moral vision partially restored, 
 they could "see men as trees walking." They 
 caught glimpses through the mysteries of the tab- 
 ernacle of a distant glory soon to invest them as 
 the almoners of God's spiritual bounties to the 
 world. It was this great indwelling idea which 
 gave to the Jewish life that rich coloring which their 
 national sins could not dim. Who could represent 
 the poetic spirit of such a people ; a people whose 
 
98 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 entire literature was inspiration ; whose poetry like 
 a nimbic cloud, hung dark and mysterious, blazing 
 from horizon to horizon with flashes of glorious 
 prophecy ? Who but he whom the world loves to 
 crown the ' ' sweet singer of Israel ? " David's very 
 life was largely the counterpart of his people's life 
 and the Psalms but breathe forth those hopes and 
 longings which the foreshadowings of their temple 
 service ever excited in the Jewish breast. 
 
 Very unlike the Hebrews were the Greeks, and very 
 unlike David was Homer. While the one nation was 
 following the light of the true system of religious 
 truth, the other was struggling beneath the incubus 
 of an effete mythology. The old pagan fervor was 
 well-nigh gone at the time when the Greeks were 
 eminently Grecian. An energy in arms, a passion 
 in the eloquence of the agora, and the poetry of the 
 drama, a clearness and depth in speculative philos- 
 ophy marked the outlines of Greek character, when 
 Greece became the bright day-star of succeeding 
 generations. But Homer } Homer was even then 
 a name of antiquity, breathing the ambrosial air 
 of gods and goddesses. Could he then be the 
 poetical representative of a people whose noblest 
 age came long after his own had passed away, 
 and whose life expanded in the clearer air that lies 
 above the clouds of a mythical faith t The foun- 
 tain may be well taken as the representative of the 
 stream ; and just such is the relation of Homer to 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1861. 
 
 99 
 
 the poetic in Greek character. It was he who 
 quickened Grecian energies with Promethean fire, 
 making her the admiration of succeeding ages. 
 Her poets drew no ordinary inspiration from the 
 CastaHa he had opened. Her philosophers^ dis- 
 coursing vaguely though it be, upon the sublime 
 themes of nature, life and immortality, only sermon- 
 ized on a text from Homer. Her warriors sought 
 the sacred oracle ; and the response came ever in 
 Homer's solemn measures, murmuring echoes of 
 that dread diapason that rang along the shores of 
 Simois and reflected from the walls of Troy. To- 
 day if every star of Grecian literature, except 
 Homer, were sunk in darkness, its light alone would 
 reflect to us the myriad shades of character that 
 make Greece the classic of the world. 
 
 And Italy had her Virgil. Italy, at once the altar 
 of Mars, the cherished shrine of the Muses, the 
 Mausoleum of empires ! To us she comes the 
 representative of two worlds. In ancient Italy 
 Virgil caught the inspiration of that poetic elemient 
 that so relieves the stern characters of the Roman 
 people. The poet, like the sculptor or painter, must 
 be animated by one vital, indwelling idea to which 
 he makes all others more or less subordinate. The 
 animation of Virgil lives both in his epic and pas- 
 toral songs. The darling idea of the Romans was 
 not foreign conquest, though this they sought and 
 obtained. It was not the immediate sovereignty of 
 
loo THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 the gods, nor the supreme sovereignty of fate ; but 
 Rome, the ancestry, the city, the posterity of Rome. 
 This was the fire that, kindled in the breast of Vir- 
 gil, threw its light far back into the mists that in- 
 vest the city's origin. By linking them to a divine 
 ancestry Virgil conquered the stern heart of the 
 world's conquerers. The songs of Horace, like the 
 surface wave, are tipped with brilliant phosphores- 
 cences, but the deep underflow of Roman character 
 swells through the worn channels of the ^neid, or 
 courses over the flower-fringed beds of his amoe- 
 bean songs. 
 
 But Italy awoke from the enervate stupor of 
 the middle ages, with her nature changed. Her 
 skies, beautiful as ever, were more languid. The 
 clear, sharp intellect and swerveless will, which the 
 north had raised to power, were yielding to the 
 sway of feeling and sentiment. The painter, the 
 sculptor, the architect alone had crowned the May- 
 day of Italy's new year with chaplets of flowers. 
 The Muse of Italy was yet childless, until the genius 
 of Tasso springing full-armed from her glowing 
 brain, awoke to new life the echoes of Virgil's song 
 still lingering in the vales of Amo. But not as 
 Virgil's imitator did Tasso become the representa- 
 tive of the poetic in modern Italy. * * Jerusalem 
 Delivered," with all the life and vigor of the ^neid, 
 had not here its element of power. It was the 
 work of Pegasus chafing at the plough, compared 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1861. loi 
 
 with those inbreathings of spirit when once forget- 
 ting the lead of his great master, his soul became 
 suffused with rich Italian feeling, as the Italian sky 
 becomes suffused with =the warm glory of its sun- 
 sets. Only when Tasso bodied in song what 
 Raphael did in paintings, he won the badge of 
 Italy's representative. 
 
 Germany is a land of writers and thinkers ; and 
 of poets too. Sometimes this life of poetry seems 
 lacking in the German character, through the dry 
 development of those profound intellections which 
 have piled literature with mountain-loads of dry in- 
 ferences in physics and dull speculations in meta- 
 physics. But below the surface there is a spring of 
 poetry down deep in the German mind. Goethe, 
 Schiller, Gessner, Lessing, Wieland sank their 
 artesian shafts and brought to the light full streams 
 of it, rich and fresh and pure. Goethe's was per- 
 haps the grandest mind of Germany. His warm 
 imagination vitalizing the reasoning powers in their 
 highest development, v/on for him admiration and 
 love. Schiller with scarcely inferior talents, sancti- 
 fied by an intense nationality, was already endeared 
 to his countrymen as proudly and truly represent- 
 ing their inmost life ; and Goethe scarcely super- 
 seded him in the affections of the people. The one 
 wrote *'The Robbers," and the lawless, wildly radi- 
 cal life of the university student flashed into broad 
 light, with a faithfulness so minute that the guard- 
 
102 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 ians of the laws trembled for its influence and sup- 
 pressed the poem. The other, gathering darkness 
 and mystery from that metaphysical profound in 
 which the German mind is ever groping, wove them 
 into the strange forms of the '' Faust," and lent to 
 their life the lurid light of an astrologic faith. Noth- 
 ing could be more intensely national ; in the cadence 
 of every line fore-echoing that dying prayer of his 
 which Germany's thinkers so often breathe, "let 
 the light enter." 
 
 Leaving Germany the slow, grave, profound, 
 
 "To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
 We turn ; and France displays her bright domain." 
 
 *'La Belle France," whose life is but an artful 
 mode ! Whose soul is artificiality or passion ! In 
 whose eyes things never seem as they are ! Who 
 of her poets was the truest Frenchman ; the poet 
 after her own heart } Glance into the brilliant 
 * * Comedie Francaise " and you are answered. The 
 people are mad with enthusiasm ; eyes glistening 
 with French pride watch the box where Voltaire is 
 to appear ; and when the aged poet stands in view 
 zeal runs into folly. They make the winter of his 
 aged temples bloom with garlands. They throng 
 him. They suffer him not to leave the playhouse ; 
 and at last giving him way, their shouts of ' ' vive 
 Voltaire " follow to his very door. This was 
 not artificiality, but passion. The people felt that 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1861. 103 
 
 Voltaire was their own, that every pulse of feeling 
 coursing through his soul, was a throb of their own 
 great heart. Racine, Corneille wrote in French ; 
 but the spirit of their song was kindled from the 
 old classic lamps of iEschylus and Sophocles. Vol- 
 taire thought and wrote in the living present, gath- 
 ering sacred fire from the heart-altars of his coun- 
 trymen, and burning it in a bright concentrate flame 
 upon his own. 
 
 Scotland, from the craggy north to Gretna Green, 
 is vocal with mute minstrelsy. The wild life of the 
 clans, the direful struggles of the Border are written 
 in rugged characters upon Highland rocks and 
 trampled Lowland muirs. 
 
 Scott read this wondrous history and interpreting, 
 gave to the world a glorious past for Scotland. 
 But a deeper life, drawn in finer characters, paints 
 the flowers of the village meadows ; softens w^ith 
 grace and beauty the roughness of those glens 
 where worshippers of God met for his praise ; or 
 lies beneath the gray moss which time has spread 
 upon the lowly slabs of the kirkyard. 
 
 These are records far more sacred to Scottish 
 hearts ; and Burns, with the divining rod of his 
 humanity, found the golden lines, and read them — 
 an "old mortality" to chisel from these moss-grown 
 annals the incrustations of time. Surely only such 
 a poet could truly represent this people of domestic 
 affections. 
 
I04 T^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Thus the nations have successively had some one 
 to express in the language of the heart what is often- 
 est deep-hidden and unexpressed. 
 
 Now, who is the world's poet ? Who of all the 
 Parnassian throng, reflects most universally the 
 endless shades and. forms of man's kaleidoscopic 
 soul ? It is he v/hom the ' ' faultily faultless, icily 
 regular " artificial taste of Voltaire sneered at because 
 so barbarously true to nature. It is he whose 
 length and breadth, height and depth the world 
 could not in one short century comprehend ; and 
 sent him down to us, at once their admiration and 
 enigma. But though like Washington, Shaks- 
 peare's "fame is eternity, his residence creation;" 
 though he represents truly in his own gigantic genius 
 all the qualities of man universal; yQ\. his nationalit}^ 
 is as marked as his genius is transcendent. Not 
 that Shakspeare's range is finite ; but the English 
 character is, in the universality of its attributes, 
 infinite. 
 
 It is for the English race, then, whether east or 
 west of the broad Atlantic, even as it claims to be 
 the representative people of the earth, of the same 
 blood that bulged the Saxon muscles of Shakspeare, 
 as legatees of the same wondrous language that 
 Shakspeare received, enriched and handed down, 
 to claim him their own representative in the sphere 
 of the heart's literature. 
 
 Thus while from every nation of the earth the 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1861. 105 
 
 historian has gathered in scroll and tablet the annals 
 of empires as they ''rose, reigned, and fell," the 
 poet has entered within the veil of the nation's life ; 
 and comes forth reflecting in song the sacred glory 
 of the place. 
 
 He who most worthily sings such songs is the 
 true representative poet. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1862. 
 
 "The Essentials to Military Success," 
 
 Augustus Underhill Bradbury. 
 "The Power of the Youthful Spirit," 
 
 Charles Levi Buckingham, 
 
 Henry Hastings Curran. 
 "The Right of Private Judgment," 
 
 Samuel Taylor Clarke. 
 " The Law of Social Progress," 
 
 John McLean. 
 " The Earliest and the Latest Poet Laureate," 
 
 Edward Walstein Root. 
 " The Source of Authority in the State." 
 
 THE POWER OF THE YOUTHFUL SPIRIT. 
 
 by CHARLES L. BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 WHEN Juan Ponce de Leon landed upon the 
 shores of the third world, he saw a beauti- 
 ful country and found a strange people. Here 
 nature was lavish with the most delicious bounties 
 of the tropics and seemed to realize the fairest vis- 
 ions of Utopian philosophy. But even this could 
 not satisfy the longings of the Castilian spirit. 
 Year after year it pushed on through sickness and 
 death, until at last weary and despairing, the sad- 
 dened wanderers laid the brave De Soto in his fit- 
 ting burial cradle and abandoned the object of their 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1862, 107 
 
 search. What could be the charm which led them ? 
 Surely not the magnificent landscapes which broke 
 upon their vision in the full splendor of their blos- 
 soming beauty; not alone the delusive dreams of 
 that El Dorado where the mountains were preg- 
 nant with gold and all the waters flashed back the 
 beauty of precious jewels. They kept on because 
 they believed the wondrous tales of a magical foun- 
 tain, one draught of whose waters would deluge the 
 soul with floods of inspiration, and bring all the 
 elements and forces of nature under the power of a 
 perpetual spirit of youth. 
 
 Men and nations dread to grow old. There is a 
 power in the youthful spirit which all men recog- 
 nize, and hence arises a natural longing for a per- 
 petuation of this spirit. An idolatrous people make 
 their gods full of beauty and power, and then sup- 
 plicate like favors for themselves. They cast their 
 hopes upon the incantations of some arbaces ; seek 
 satisfaction of subtle impostors ; and often like 
 Sardanapalus curse the nature which will not renew 
 a spirit wasted in debauchery and crime. In en- 
 lightened ages, men almost believe their fancies 
 when they imagine the existence of some enchanted 
 region where decay never enters. They love to 
 review that old legend of the Fountain of Youth, 
 whose waters are a panacea for all the ills of time. 
 Here the mysterious Ethiopians gained an immor- 
 tality on earth. Here sport the nymphs of wood 
 
io8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 and water, and the Muses revel in the deHghts of 
 never ending bloom. Oh, could they have knov^n 
 that the only spring of eternal life is in that land 
 where there is no time ; could they have realized 
 that he who tasted of its waters would never step 
 back from the fountain ; Ponce de Leon and De 
 Soto might have rested in peace in their own Anda- 
 lusia, and the Father of Waters would murmur 
 fainter mournings on its way to the sea. 
 
 However much there may be said about folly and 
 rashness and indiscretion, men will believe in the 
 power of the youthful spirit. "Lusty youth," they 
 say, "is the very May morn of delight," and they 
 would not wish to think otherwise. St. John af- 
 firmed its power when in words of love he said : 
 "I have written unto 3^ou, young men, because ye 
 are strong." Statesmen and philosophers affirm it 
 when they rest upon it the safety and liberties of 
 the people. All history affirms it, as in the bloody 
 records of thick-crowding battle-fields, we read its 
 sturdy triumphs over darkness and oppression. 
 
 We see then that all men recognize the power of 
 the youthful spirit and strive for its continuance. 
 In what consists this power which so enlists the de- 
 sires and admiration of the world t 
 
 There is a faith in the spirit of youth which is 
 not always seen in age. The young soul believes 
 that the world was created for some good purpose ; 
 that man was sent into it to fulfill a mission ; and 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1862. 109 
 
 not to wildly wander in a wilderness of doubts. It 
 looks back over the history of the race and sees a 
 glittering record of the triumphs of truth. What 
 should it do but rejoice and go at its work } And 
 so it does ; but even then with greater faith in the 
 future than reverence for the past. Youth is not 
 so skeptical as age about receiving new truths, 
 though they may overturn theories which are the 
 delight of the world. Hence we hear the Apostle 
 of the Reformation exclaim, ' ' We shall see the 
 rising generation receive the true theology, which 
 these old men, wedded to their vain and fantastical 
 opinions, now so obstinately reject. 
 
 Hope is also an element of this power, and is 
 wedded to faith in all the aspirations of the youth- 
 ful spirit. Hope anticipates success, and in its 
 warm glow toil turns to pleasure. Sometimes in- 
 deed it brings too strong assurances, but oftener it 
 is the sure harbinger of victory. Faith gives an 
 impulse towards truth, and hope brings a buoyancy 
 to the spirits which ensures a noble struggle. 
 
 ' ' Faith is the rainbow bridge across 
 To the garden we stand in, singing aloud, 
 And hope is the angel, that holds our hands 
 Leading us up to God." 
 
 But faith and hope are not alone. There is a 
 warm sympathy in youth — a sympathy which 
 ripens into charity. It was this that sent the 
 saintly shadow of Florence Nightengale, flitting on 
 
1 1 c TA'B CLAJ^K PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 its mission of love before the wounded soldiers of 
 the Crimea ; and her noble example is now being 
 imitated by Dorothea Dix and all the ministering 
 angels who bless the hospitals of freedom in Amer- 
 ica. Tills s\niipathy too is reciprocal in its nature. 
 It ^rds men tosrether with the indissoluble bands of 
 brotherly love ; and thus inspires holier thoughts, 
 excites purer actions, secures nobler conquests. 
 
 These three then, faith, hope and sympathy, are 
 the elements of power in the youthful spirit. 
 They carr)' with them energy, enthusiasm, courage 
 and all the qualities which ensure success. These 
 three with truth as a sword, have battled and 
 triumphed in ever}' conflict with error and oppres- 
 sion. They drew the beauty and perfection of 
 Grecian civiUzation out from the mists of pagan 
 obscurity. They led the advance of God's Refor- 
 mation against the dark and frowning walls of 
 corrupt Catholicism, and to-day in our own land, 
 faith, hope and sympathy are gathering the hosts 
 of the republic and hurling them like bolts of love 
 upon the fronts of the enemies of freedom. 
 
 Let us notice for a moment some of the achieve- 
 ments of the youthful spirit in the past ; some of 
 the successes which the world calls the triumphs of 
 early genius. In the realm of letters, we find that 
 Bacon conceived the design of overthrowing the 
 philosophy of Aristotle at the age of sixteen. At 
 twent3'-one Philip Melancthon had started a revolu- 
 
EXHIBIl ION OF 1862. 1 1 1 
 
 tion of thought in Germany. Demosthenes, Cicero, 
 Burke and Webster, all made their reputation in 
 early life ; and so in history did Prescott, Motley 
 and Macaulay. In theology we need but mention 
 Martin Luther and John Calvin. 
 
 All poets are young — at least we love to think 
 them young ; and fancy would almost tell us that 
 Milton and Homer were made blind that age might 
 never look from the windows of the soul. 
 
 So in the fine arts, with Phidias, we proudly re- 
 member our own Crawford. Raphael readorned the 
 walls of the Vatican and died while yet a young 
 man. Before middle life, Giotto was loaded with 
 riches at Rome for the beauties that he had left 
 there ; and the towering dome of St. Peters will 
 forever mutely speak of the youthful conceptions of 
 Michael Angelo. 
 
 Turning to the science of arms, we find David 
 and Jonathan leading the armies of-^the Lord in the 
 days of Israel's kings ; Alexander 'leaving a con- 
 quered world, as the record of thirty-five ambitious 
 years; Hannibal and Scipio, in-whom two civiliza- 
 tions faced each other before the gates of Rome ; 
 and him whose requiem the mournful waves on St. 
 Helena sounded when he went to answer for the 
 triumphs of his power. 
 
 But we would not forget that not in youth alone 
 are all the conquests of the youthful spirit. When 
 the chisel of Phidias was polished to adorn the 
 
1 1 2 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Parthenon he found the guardian goddess of Athens 
 with a grave and serious countenance; and reaHzing 
 that in the ideal, wisdom must overcome decay, the 
 new chryselephantine Minerva came from his hands 
 triumphant in the bloom of joyous youth. So in 
 life, those who approach nearest to perfect men, 
 preserve through all their days most of the spirit of 
 youth. What sublimer spectacle than that of 
 Copernicus correcting his proof sheets on the couch 
 of death ; of Mozart writing his requiem while the 
 dark angel w^as drawing the curtain before the vis- 
 ions of earth ; or Humboldt watching with silent 
 satisfaction the gradual decay of the body which 
 binds his own soul to earth, and faithfully devoting 
 his declining days to the completion of that Cosmos 
 which is to stand forever in the literature of the 
 world. Think too of Galileo as he turns his won- 
 drous tube heavenward from the leaning tower of 
 Pisa, and gazes upon the bristling mountains and 
 frowning valleys of the moon, the imperial belts 
 of Jupiter and golden rings of Saturn, and innu- 
 merable unknown lights, far in the realms of 
 boundless space. Ah ! ye disciples of Ptolemy, 
 5^ou may persecute and strive to subdue the noble 
 spirit of that brave old man, but he can tell of a 
 "music of the spheres " compared with which the 
 j anglings of your universe are the wildest discord ; 
 and to every forced recantation will be joined the 
 proud, defiant truth, " E pur si inuove.'' 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1862. 1 1 3 
 
 There is a youthful spirit in nations as well as 
 individuals, and all revolutions are but this spirit 
 breaking through the crusts of decay. The horrors 
 which closed the last century in France were the 
 mighty stumblings of a spirit that had been cramped 
 so long that it could not walk alone. Our own 
 country is not yet old, but we are suffering from 
 the decay of rank growth. Out from the sorrows 
 of this rebellion is bursting a new fire, which shall 
 purge a nation from corruption and bless the race 
 with another victory of truth. 
 
 So long as a nation preserves the spirit of youth 
 the government and people are safe. Venice ruled 
 the sea through all the centuries in which she 
 maintained her pristine vigor ; now she sits in quiet 
 on the Adriatic, dogeless and powerless. What a 
 wonder to the nations was the early progress of 
 Mohamimedanism } It was baptised in the youth- 
 ful spirit. It was higher and nobler than the old, 
 rotten and corrupt religions from whose centre it 
 arose. With progressive waves of conquest it 
 swept over Egypt and Assyria, Morocco and Pales- 
 tine, Spain and Turkey, till it seemed as though 
 the whole world was to pass under the dominion of 
 the prophets of Mecca. But when confronted by 
 another youthful spirit, disciplined in a healthier 
 clime and strenghened by a higher and then purer 
 faith, it faltered ; and Charles Martel on the field 
 of Poictiers, and the Hungarians and Poles in that 
 
1 1 4 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 terrible circle about the gates of Bellegrade, hurled 
 back the proud hordes of Mussulmans in confusion 
 and terror ; and said to them with sinewy strength 
 and strokes of steel, "Thus far shalt thou come 
 and no farther." 
 
 We see then what the youthful spirit has accom- 
 plished. If it has not written all the books, it has 
 discovered all the worlds. If it has not brought all 
 the truths, it has led all the reformations. If it 
 has not made all the laws, it has won all the vic- 
 tories. If it is not all wisdom it is the foundation 
 of all power. Nor is its mission fulfilled. It has 
 yet to go on working, discovering, conquering; yet 
 to seek out the uttermost corners of the earth and 
 push its piercing vision farther towards the bounds 
 of infinity ; unraveling more and more perfectly, 
 the mysteries of the world and the universe. It 
 has yet to bring every people to a knowledge of the 
 Father and the Saviour, thus belting the nations 
 with the golden girdle of love. And when at last 
 the dawn of its millennium approaches, it will ascend 
 to sit forever, 
 
 " With the angel tinder the Seprioths 
 Hard by the antique mystery door, 
 Where the palms of a bright eternal youth 
 Are blooming evermore." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 
 
 "The Value of Authority in Matters of Opinion," 
 
 Samuel Hawley Adams, 
 
 Charles Van Norden. 
 "The Results of Discovery and Invention compared with 
 the Conceptions of the Imagination," 
 
 Linus Parsons Bissell, 
 
 Austin Knapp Hoyt. 
 " ' Paradise Lost' and the ' Divine Comedy,' " 
 
 Horace Publius Virgilius Bogue. 
 "The Effect of Political Revolutions upon Literature," 
 
 DwiGHT Morgan Lee. 
 " Conscience as a Legal Sanction." 
 "The Essentials to Permanent Political Success." 
 
 PARADISE LOST" AND THE "DIVINE COMEDY.' 
 
 BY HORACE P. V. BOGUE. 
 
 NEAR the close of the middle ages, and after 
 the Crusades had wrought such a marvelous 
 change among the nations of Europe, and had 
 given birth to the rich and various literature of 
 chivalrous poetry, the father of Italian literature 
 was born. His lot fell upon evil times ; times when 
 freedom and justice were contending against that 
 hydra-headed monster, tyranny ; v/hen nations 
 fought against nations ; cities against cities ; and 
 families against families. Turmoil and bloodshed 
 reigned supreme. 
 
ii6 IHE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 In such an age Dante lived ; upon such a stage 
 did he act his part. Is it strange, then, that 
 amid such exciting scenes, his ardent nature carried 
 him into the very midst of the conflict ; that his in- 
 tense love of freedom inspired him v\^ith a noble 
 and determined purpose ; that he contended M^ith 
 such dauntlessness for the establishment of free 
 principles ? 
 
 But, alas, right does not always conquer ; truth 
 is not always victorious. Defeated and under doom 
 of death, Dante, the high-spirited, noble-souled 
 champion of liberty, is banished from his country. 
 Yet for him exile is not oblivion ; it is the gateway 
 to the immortal fame which crowns his name for- 
 ever. 
 
 There in sorrow and the deepest bitterness, re- 
 tired into the solitude of his own soul, he conceived 
 and wrote the Divine Comedy. 
 
 More than three centuries after, England gave 
 birth to a kindred spirit. Nurtured amid political 
 struggles, acquainted with the corruptions of kings 
 and courts, hating with the most perfect hatred 
 every form of tyranny, Milton enlisted all his pow- 
 ers of mind and body in the sacred cause of freedom. 
 Need we tell the fearlessness with which he battled 
 for the right ; the vigor and boldness with which he 
 assailed error ; the purity of the motives by which 
 he was actuated } He, too, fell a martyr. Milton 
 and Dante were too great for the ages in which they 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 1 1 7 
 
 lived. Their motives were too holy ; their zeal too 
 ardent ; the truths for which they battled too sub- 
 lime. The people could not comprehend ; the 
 kings dared not suffer them. Abused, neglected, 
 proscribed, ''pointed at by the slow, unmoving fin- 
 ger of scorn," Milton*s calmness and stateliness of 
 mind forsook him not. He was indeed immortal 
 before his work was done. Then it was, that his 
 genius shone forth with such unrivaled splendor ; 
 then, that poor, deserted, blind poet wrought out 
 in majestic verse the lofty conceptions of his mind. 
 
 The Paradise Lost is a grand epic poem, upon 
 one of the noblest and most exalting themes which 
 ever engaged the powers of man. The rebellion 
 of that arch-traitor in heaven ; the terrible contest 
 between the hosts of light and darkness ; the over- 
 throw of Satan and his myriads ; the bliss and 
 holiness of man in paradise ; his fall and misery ; 
 are depicted to our amazed and wonder-rapt minds, 
 in words of giant power. Such conceptions defy 
 the genius of a Raphael ; never can they be de- 
 lineated, even with all the colors of the rainbov/. 
 There are thoughts too deep for words ; there are 
 thoughts too sublime, too grand, too ethereal for 
 the canvas. 
 
 The Divine Comedy is an allegorical poem. It 
 reveals those high mysteries, the terrors and joys, 
 the punishments and rewards of the future life. 
 With Dante as our guide, from circle to circle, from 
 
1 1 8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 gulf to gulf, down into the depths of hell we de- 
 scend. We see und hear and feel the tortures of 
 the doomed. Tossed in winds, sepulchred in tire, 
 stormed upon by hail, 
 
 ** They feel by turns the bitter ehange 
 Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce ; 
 From beds of raging fire to starve in ice. 
 Their soft ethereal warmth." 
 
 Upward to purgatory, the realm between utter 
 despair, and the highest felicity, we ascend. There 
 the spirits of the dead are purged of sin ; and the 
 hope that by the intercessions of those who still 
 remain on earth, they may yet attain unto the 
 blessedness of heaven, lifts up their hearts to God, 
 and attunes their voices to praise. 
 
 Higher and still higher we ascend, even to the 
 golden-gated paradise. From sphere to sphere, 
 from heaven to heaven, from joy to joy we rise, 
 until the glory and effulgence of Him who sits 
 upon the throne, dazzles our eyes and seals our 
 opening lips. 
 
 ' ' To awake and give vitality to all slumbering 
 feelings, and affections and passions ; to fill and ex- 
 pand the heart, and to make man feel in every fibre 
 of his being all that human nature can endure, 
 experience and bring forth in her inmost and most 
 secret recesses ;" this is art, the highest and noblest 
 art. Thus the Paradise Lost elevates our thoughts, 
 refines our feelings, and expands our heart. Our 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 1 1 9 
 
 soul seems to burst its confining bonds of clay, 
 and to rise to other worlds and other spheres of 
 action. Then, indeed, do we endure all that 
 human nature can endure ; every portion of our 
 being quivers with intensest emotion. The Para- 
 dise Lost is sublime ; it is more than sublime ; it is 
 Godlike ; it seems as though heaven and earth 
 were contending together for its high-born thoughts. 
 
 But does the Divine Comedy exhibit such art, 
 exert such power, produce such effects } No ; that 
 only warms the feelings and quickens the sensibili- 
 ties ; it does not sustain the elevation and grandeur 
 of the Paradise Lost, nor influence the mind with 
 Miltonic fire. Dante's ideality is all stern reality ; 
 not as spirits but as mortals, we penetrate into the 
 deep mysteries of those distant worlds. 
 
 The Paradise Lost and the Divine Comedy are 
 characterized by the most perfect unity. Satan's 
 expulsion from heaven, his utter despair of regain- 
 ing his lost position, incite him to wreak upon man 
 that vengeance which was powerless against the 
 Almighty. By subtlety and guile transformed into 
 bird, into toad, into serpent, he pursues the accom- 
 plishment of his purpose. He tempts the mother 
 of mankind ; she yields and eats the forbidden 
 fruit. In that moment of sin, by that one fatal 
 act, she drew down upon herself and posterity the 
 wrath and curse of an offended Deity. Thus with 
 the most complete fullness and perfect unity. Mil- 
 
1 20 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ton traces the cause, manner and means by which 
 paradise was lost. 
 
 Dante has a nobler aim. He teaches that "time 
 is enveloped by eternity ;" that the portals of the 
 grave are but the entrance to a future life which is 
 determined by our life on earth. It is this idea 
 which pervades his poem, and binds together in 
 one complete, united whole its various portions. 
 To unfold this idea in its fullest and broadest ex- 
 tent, he toils through the kingdoms of the dead. 
 For this he endures all, suffers all. Does not the 
 retribution of the Inferno, warn us of sin } Do not 
 the burdens and sorrows of purgatory urge us to 
 repentance 1 Do not the rewards and blessedness of 
 paradise incite us to a pure and holy life } While 
 Milton drives us with our first parents from the 
 paradise on earth, Dante takes us by the hand and 
 points us to that paradise above which is eternal in 
 the heavens. 
 
 In invention, Milton and Dante are wonderful 
 and sublime. We know not which most to admire. 
 While Milton describes hell in its outlines merely, 
 and by his mysterious indistinctness creates within 
 us a sensation of awe and terror ; Dante describes 
 it with the minuteness of one who has threaded its 
 labyrinths and seen its countless myriads. Where 
 is there displayed grander invention, and more 
 skillful and sublime description than in the battle 
 between the angels } Nothing has ever surpassed 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 1 2 1 
 
 it ; nothing has ever equalled it. It stands pre- 
 eminently alone, as a monument of the inventive 
 genius of Milton. During the long weary hours of 
 the first day, they fight and fight again, but fight 
 in vain. Success iiies hovering between the em- 
 battled hosts. But in the dread darkness of the 
 succeeding night, there was conceived in the teem- 
 ing brain of Satan, and fashioned from the mines 
 of earth, a huge and terrible instrument of war. 
 And when a new day's sun had heralded those hosts 
 to arms, he ploughed the ranks of his enemies with 
 his fire-belching monster. Back they recoil in dire 
 confusion. But "rage prompted them at length, 
 and found them arms. They ran, they flew, and 
 from their foundations loosening to and fro, they 
 pluck the seated hills with all their load," and 
 hurled them upon those engines of war and the 
 rebellious hosts. Dante's powers of invention are 
 manifested in the manifold punishments of the 
 wicked, and the ineffable joys of the redeemed. 
 He does not startle us with the boldness of his 
 conceptions, nor amaze us by the sublimity of his 
 genius. Rarely indeed does he attain to the ele- 
 vation and dignity of Milton. Yet as he describes 
 his approach to the city of Dis, wherein heretics 
 are burned in intensest fire ; as he describes the 
 ireful gestures of those who stood guard on the 
 walls and refused him entrance ; as he describes 
 9 
 
12 2 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 their hasty flight before the angel sent to open the 
 gates, he does rise to almost Miltonic sublimity. 
 
 In the agency of supernatural beings, the Divine 
 Comedy is far inferior to the Paradise Lost. It is 
 in originating and describing such characters that 
 Milton obtains his distinguishing glory. Such are 
 the creatures of his mind, such the power with 
 which he endows them, such the majesty and base- 
 ness he imparts to them, as inspire us with dread 
 and admiration, not onty of themselves, but of that 
 stupendous mind which gave them being, and which 
 still governs them. Where in all literature can 
 there be found such a character as Satan, so vile, 
 so subtle, and yet in the very depths of his base- 
 ness, so grand } What hate, what envy, what con- 
 centrated wickedness abounds in him, pervades him, 
 stimulates him ! ' ' Around him is thrown such a 
 singularity of daring, such a grandeur of sublimity, 
 such a ruined splendor," as well becomes a fallen 
 arch-angel and potentate of hell. 
 
 Could Dante have created such a being, clothed 
 him in such terrors, infused into him such satanic 
 passions .'' His highest flights of imagination, his 
 richest invention, his most fertile genius, could 
 never have combined together in one created being, 
 such wondrous attributes and powers. What is 
 Dante's Lucifer in comparison with Satan } He is 
 but a monster of terrible mien. Satan is terrible 
 in his grasp of intellect and gigantic stature 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 1 2 3 
 
 Lucifer is horrible in his deformity ; Satan is sub- 
 Hme ; Lucifer loathsome and hideous ; Satan forms 
 high resolves and dares their accomplishment ; 
 Lucifer fulfills his destiny in champing in his vile 
 and bloody jaws, the mangled limbs of sinners. 
 
 Milton and Dante are both master artists. Dante 
 is delicate and complete ; Milton bold and sugges- 
 tive. We admire the one ; we love the other. 
 Their productions are a crov/n of glory to the 
 nations which gave them birth. Many a genius 
 have they kindled into life ; many a mind have 
 they ennobled and exalted ; m^any a heart have 
 they warmed and expanded. 
 
 Then let the Paradise Lost and the Divine 
 Comedy, the offspring of two minds, among the deep- 
 est, broadest and grandest which have risen on the 
 world, be forever joined together. Let them live, 
 let them die together, — die only when the secrets of 
 that invisible v/orld of which Dante has sung, shall be 
 no longer hid from our longing gaze, but shall be 
 revealed amid the glory and effulgent splendor of 
 eternity. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1864. 
 
 "The Verdict of the People in Political Affairs," 
 
 William Hubbell Fisher, 
 
 WiLLARD Peck. 
 " The Increase of Knowledge in its Effect upon Poetry," 
 
 Herman Dutilh Jenkins. 
 "The Intellectual Advantages of the Christian Sabbath," 
 
 John James Lewis. 
 "The Jew of Dickens, Scott and Shakspeare," 
 
 Elihu Root. 
 " The Providence of God in American History," 
 
 Henry Martyn Simmons. 
 " Social Culture as a Measure of Civilization." 
 
 THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD IN AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 BY HENRY M. SIMMONS. 
 
 THE philosophy of history is most unsatis- 
 factory of all philosophies. There are laws 
 of social and political development ; but laws can 
 not explain history. Buckle may consider country, 
 climate, character, as the conditions of a problem, 
 from which to figure out a nation's destiny. Yet 
 its solution reveals elements that submit to no 
 mathematical despotism. One of these is man's 
 free agency. But this is directed by circumstances. 
 What disposes the circumstances ? What, pre- 
 scribing the conditions of a nation's birth and 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1864. 125 
 
 growth, regulates all laws ? Is it Zeno's ' ' Fate " 
 and the modern Stoic's "Necessity?" Is it Epi- 
 curus' ' ' Chance ?" Or is it divine providence ? 
 
 The doctrine of a providence supposes no mirac- 
 ulous suspension of laws, only the Creator's re- 
 served power of controlling them. Gravitation is 
 ever the same, whether seen in the rolling of worlds 
 or heard in Niagara's thunder. Laws of light, heat, 
 motion are unchangeable. But these, never con- 
 flicting, would stamp nature with the monotony of 
 eternal repetition. All winds would be trade winds. 
 Storms would be calculated like eclipses. Only 
 the endless combinations of these laws produce this 
 infinite variation of sunshine and storm. So these 
 laws inherent in society, which prescribe the neces- 
 sary stages of progressive civilization, and deter- 
 mine the influences of physical and moral forces on 
 character, by unobstructed action would restrict 
 each nation's progress to an orbit, and make uni- 
 versal history but the harmonious movement of a 
 system. Wars would become periodical ; prophecy, 
 a demonstrative science. But a thousand mysteri- 
 ous coincidences of time and place are ever combin- 
 ing these forces anew, producing this grand kaleido- 
 scope of events called history. In laws we see a 
 God ; but beyond, interweaving them in ever- 
 changing relations for the accomplishment of special 
 ends, a particular providence. 
 
 But what proof that this realm beyond the do- 
 
126 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 main of law is not subject to the despotism of fate, 
 or left to the anarchy of chance ? The theory of a 
 Creator overruling creation is most consonant to 
 reason. Theology sustains it from revelation and 
 the known attributes of God. But history's argu- 
 ment is the evidence of design. Many see provi- 
 dence only in the accomplishment of their ideal of 
 good. But what is good } We cannot say. 
 Many see it only in those startling coincidences that 
 decide battles and national crises. But unnatural- 
 ness is not the highest proof of divine intervention. 
 Besides, we are prone to magnify the importance of 
 crises. There is something extravagant in the con- 
 sequence Hugo attaches to a cowboy's blunder at 
 Waterloo. As if a boy's word was to fix Europe's 
 destiny. It might perhaps turn the tide of Water- 
 loo. But Europe would have again appealed from 
 that arbitration of shot and sword. The real 
 forces were not marshaled by Napoleon and Wel- 
 lington. Design is evinced not in events them- 
 selves, but in their relation to something higher and 
 more permanent. Providence was doubtless as 
 manifest at Bull Run as at Vicksburg. But a 
 mourning nation saw it not. Only when defeat 
 awakened the North to earnestness, when the confi- 
 dent, noisy patriotism first evoked, was refined and 
 intensified by national sorrow, was its beneficent 
 mission felt. History then reveals design only by 
 its long series of events, each converging on some 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1S64. 1 2 7 
 
 distant result, some particular form of national de- 
 velopment. 
 
 What design, then, does American history illus- 
 trate ? Answer may ssem presumptuous. We 
 may indulge no profane ingenuity in warping 
 events to our narrow notions of providence. Provi- 
 dence is not national, but universal. Not from de- 
 tached records of nations or ages, but only when 
 history's completed cycle displays the parts in their 
 complex relations can the Creator's designs be com- 
 prehended. Still events have shown an unmis- 
 takable uniform tendency — the development of a 
 peculiar, an exalted national character. And such 
 development is the ultimate result to which we can 
 refer history. Character is the fruit of all a na- 
 tion's past, the germ of all its future. Institutions 
 and events are only the expression of national 
 character, are worth nothing only for their reac- 
 tion — ever weaving new threads into this woof of 
 character. To-day history is not the ripple and 
 eddy of incidents, but the strong undercurrent of 
 opinions and feelings. In searching a design, then, 
 we must look beyond institutions, transitory at 
 best, beyond events flitting across the page of his- 
 tory to that slow accretion of a nation's ruling be- 
 liefs, which we call character — that growth which 
 alone gives unity to a nation's history — which is 
 itself history. 
 
 Providence determined the elements of American 
 
1 28 '^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 character. When civiHzation had passed its earher 
 external forms in Eastern power, Grecian subtilty, 
 Roman magnificence ; when from its long sleep in 
 the dark ages, it had awaked to second life, in- 
 fused with the vitalizing principles of Christianity ; 
 when democratic liberty, introduced in the free 
 cities, was beginning to unfold through reform, yet 
 checked by Europe's conservative forces — her time- 
 honored institutions, her mountains, rivers, castles, 
 eloquent in their old associations ; when these ele- 
 ments of progress needed a retreat beyond this 
 mighty dominion of a past ; then providence, lift- 
 ing the mists of ignorance, revealed the reserved 
 continent; its latent wealth and commercial ad- 
 vantages v/aiting to clothe a people in material 
 prosperity; its forest freedom, its bold physical 
 features waiting to leave their grand impress on a 
 national character. Hither the rising civilization 
 was directed. Monarchy, feudal aristocracy, 
 priestcraft were kept avv^ay. Only the progressive 
 in European society was colonized — that whose 
 germ was freedom of thought, whose flower had 
 been religious reform, v/hose necessary fruit was 
 democracy. The main element destined to give 
 tone to society, came enlightened by education, 
 sharpened by persecution, puritanically zealous for 
 Christianity and human rights. It was located by 
 providence, not where tropical clime or unearned 
 wealth would enervate, but rugged nature make 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1864. 129 
 
 strong and hardy, sterility, practical and industri- 
 ous. 
 
 Revolutions result from forces introduced long 
 before. Providence determines their time and 
 m.anner. The American Revolution as a political 
 movement was inevitable. It was the maturer 
 fruit of that Paritanism that had deposed Charles, 
 and wrung from royalty the Bill of Rights. At 
 a thousand critical junctures heaven aided its suc- 
 cess. But why was it permitted at such protracted 
 national exhaustion 1 Here we would see a provi- 
 dence. The Revolution developed democratic prin- 
 ciples already latent in American character ; the 
 war cemented that character. The colonized ele- 
 ments were scattered and various, with a common 
 Teutonic origin, yet stamped with different nation- 
 alities ; rallying around the great truths of Chris- 
 tianity, yet divided into sects. These peculiarities 
 luxuriating unchecked on the new soil, would have 
 produced as many forms of bigotry. As it was, 
 Puritanism, with toleration its early watchword, 
 became intolerant. But collision of opinions 
 would eliminate error, while truth by its intrinsic 
 vitality would endure. What could effect this con- 
 solidation } What but the sympathetic thrill of 
 common danger could harmonize discordant views } 
 What but the furnace of war could fuse these vari- 
 ous energies into a national purpose, these scat- 
 tered elements into a national character } 
 
I30 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 By the ultra effects of revolution, the tendency 
 now became excessively democratic. The nation 
 needed educating. Before political institutions 
 were allowed to assume definite shape, providence, 
 by long lessons of adversity, and by able states- 
 men, developed but not produced by the times, 
 taught the people that democracy must be tem- 
 pered by strong constitutional restraints. Thus 
 educated opinions crystallized into permanent in- 
 stitutions. 
 
 The forces of American character, conserved, 
 directed, strengthened by wise institutions, were 
 then allowed, through long peace, to establish the 
 new civilization. Each element revealed its 
 mission. Slavery brought under cultivation im- 
 mense Southern tracts, secured a monopoly of the 
 cotton trade, and thus established that national 
 credit which in turn invigorated every department 
 of Northern enterprise. Puritanic industry diffused 
 by Yankee versatility, found expression in v/idening 
 agriculture, busy manufacture, fertile invention, 
 noisy commerce — every form of material wealth. 
 Southern aristocractic advantages of intellectual 
 culture established a higher standard of statesman- 
 ship. Hayne's talents educated Webster's elo- 
 quence. Calhoun's logic sharpened the weapons of 
 many a Northern champion. New England de- 
 mocracy promoting political and social mobility, 
 made civilization as broad as society. While Puri- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1864. 1 3 j 
 
 tanic principles permeating the nation, developed a 
 public sentiment, enlightened by free discussion, re- 
 fined by education, elevated by religion, combining 
 in its ideal the useful, the just, the true. 
 
 Did the national character need farther purifica- 
 tion? The long summer of peace had nurtured the 
 tares with the wheat, but must they be separated 
 only by the fearful harvest of war ? Yet the war is 
 a necessary conflict of the nation's antagonistic 
 forces. Slavery and secession are only its inci- 
 dents. It is the violent consummation of the long 
 struggle of classes. But how has providence con- 
 trolled it } When the aristocratic element had ac- 
 complished its mission, while European complica- 
 tions precluded foreign intervention, then the forces 
 were suffered to collide. The war in its progress 
 has been overruled for good. It has developed the 
 nation's resources, taught practical military and 
 financial lessons, aroused a deeper patriotism. 
 Above all it has reawakened the millions of the 
 North, and made them men again. The storm, 
 where the differently charged elements of national 
 character seek an equilibrium, always purifies the 
 social atmosphere. This unveiling of the nation's 
 sins, this war of opinions, educating public senti- 
 ment, strikes at the root of social evils. Surer 
 than legislation is the doom of slavery heard to-day 
 in that tide of popular sentiment, not merely roll- 
 ing through the North, but in Missouri, in Louisiana, 
 
1 3 2 THE CLA RK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 surging around the institution's very pillars. But 
 the great good is in the issue toward which events 
 point. When this common baptism of blood, con- 
 secrating the soil of every State to the veneration 
 of every other, has bound all in a sacred sympathy, 
 silencing, forever, clamorous State contentions; 
 when reconstruction, bringing North and South in 
 contact, intermingling institutions, manners, men, 
 has achieved the grand consolidation of the nation's 
 various elements ; then the war shall exemplify 
 that maxim of true progress, ' ' From unity, 
 through diversity, back to a closer unity." 
 
 Then American character, thus formed and edu- 
 cated, firm as New England granite, earnest as Pu- 
 ritanism, strengthened in peace, purified and ce- 
 mented by war, must find expression in a yet higher 
 civilization; whose institutions, recognizing equality 
 of rights, yet diversity of powers, harmonize with 
 the constitution of the race ; whose end is utility 
 and truth, the attainment of wealth, knowledge, 
 virtue, and through these of happiness. Against 
 this force of character, material opposition is vain. 
 The river's force is inherent. Rugged banks may 
 check, mountains may dam its course, but it zvill 
 find the sea. 
 
 To-day, to the less sanguine, the prospect may 
 be uncertain, even dread. But the providence so 
 often so signally manifested, will not forsake us. 
 And what though prosperity be deferred } Provi- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1864. 133 
 
 dence has time enough. True national growth is 
 always slow. But events silently working through 
 this medium of character will reproduce themselves 
 in grander events. Carlyle has compared the 
 slow influence of great men and their ideas, to the 
 lunar influence on tides. Not until hours after the 
 moon leaves the meridian is the great wave heaved 
 along the ocean. So events are slow in their re- 
 sults, and to-day may seem fraught with evil. But 
 hereafter, when their lessons have been incorpora- 
 ted into the national character as ruling beliefs; 
 when these latent forces, awakened, intensified, are 
 permeating, thrilling, moving the nation as a soul, 
 toward its higher destiny; then, though the events 
 are long past, shall be seen the grand tidal wave of 
 their influence rolling through history ; its crest 
 sparkling in the sunlight of national prosperity. 
 Then, when that sown in tears is reaped in joy; 
 when this fearful maze of events, darkened by 
 clouds of national grief, enshrouded in the smoke 
 of a hundred battle-fields, is cleared of its mystery, 
 and seen in its bearing on a higher civilization; 
 then may be traced with clearer vision the Provi- 
 dence of God in American History. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1865. 
 
 "The Insignificance of the Earth no Argument against 
 Christianity," 
 
 William Henry Bates. 
 "The Life and Labors of Samuel Kirkland," 
 
 Dana Williams Bigelow. 
 "The Author of Waverly as a Representative Scotchman," 
 
 James Alexander Ferguson. 
 "War as a Union Maker," 
 
 Benjamin William Johnson. 
 " Opinions Stronger than Armies," 
 
 Luther Allen Ostrander. 
 "The Relation of the Distribution of Property to the Pros- 
 perity of the State," 
 
 William Oliver Webster. 
 
 OPINIONS STRONGER THAN ARMIES. 
 
 BY LUTHER A. OSTRANDER. 
 
 THERE is a vignette representing a heavy sword, 
 thrown across a dozen quills, crushing and 
 destroying them. In these thrilling times of war, 
 the picture seems the illustration of truth, rather 
 than an artist's fancy. When governments lay 
 their hands on their sword-hilts, and nations mar- 
 shal themselves in battle array, it is natural to 
 believe the sword mightier than the pen, armies 
 stronger than opinions. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1863. 1 3 5 
 
 We purpose to compare, in the broad light of 
 history and reason, the strength of armies and 
 opinions in their influence upon civilization. 
 
 Strength is a force known only in its results. 
 An army is a gigantic force. It marches forth 
 with roll of drums and proud banners streaming ; 
 bayonets gleaming in sunlight; earth trembles under 
 its measured tread ; and it is full of grandeur : it 
 sweeps to the battle with the fury of the tempest ; 
 dark battalions roll together, squadrons charge with 
 flashing sabers ; and dense sulphurous clouds hail 
 iron : it returns with honored scars, torn battle- 
 flags and shouts of victory, and is covered with 
 glory. 
 
 But what is this power, what its effect ? Mili- 
 tary strength is physical strength. It defies reason; 
 hews congenial states asunder ; chains in repul- 
 sive union the deadliest enemies. By the sheer 
 force of invincible legions, Alexander grapples 
 Asia to Europe ; Caesar waves his banners over 
 vanquished millions ; and Tamerlane piles his pyra- 
 mids of skulls above the sepulchres of nations. 
 
 Military strength is temporal. Armies melt 
 away ; despots are powerless ; conquerors die ; 
 their kingdoms crumble to fragments. Stern Sparta, 
 despotic Rome — where are they } A nation's doom 
 is sealed, so soon as it throws aside principle and 
 governs by force. 
 
 Armies, preventing intellectual and moral culture, 
 destroy the ability of the people for self-government. 
 
136 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 The horrors of war are only too famihar. All 
 know the sad story of woe and desolation of thou- 
 sands bleeding on battle-fields, and thousands suf- 
 fering in hospitals and prisons. Thus armies, sap- 
 ping the strength of a nation, pave the way for a 
 despotism. 
 
 Armies separate different governments. Mili- 
 tary nations ever regard their neighbors as 
 enemies. Hence there can be no sympathy ; no 
 interchange of sentiments ; no universal brother- 
 hood ; no union. True, conquerors, with the iron 
 hand of physical force, may make a union of 
 nations ; but that union is dissolved so soon as the 
 force is removed. Before the Christian era battles 
 raged ; vast kingdoms were dashed to pieces by 
 Titanic powers ; and the effect was that the nations 
 radiating from a common centre, moved on in lines 
 continually diverging. 
 
 Such is the strength of armies. It is physical, 
 temporal, demoralizing the people ; separating 
 nations, — a power terrible for destruction and evil. 
 
 Demon of war, seated on thy blood-stained 
 
 throne, God has signed thy death-warrant ! Thou 
 
 shalt be subject to a power stronger than thine, to 
 
 enlightened and Christian opinions, to the Prince of 
 
 Peace ! Such is the prophet's bright view of the 
 
 future ; such the fond hopes of the philosopher ; 
 
 " Such the immortal seraph's song sublime, 
 Glory to God in heaven : 
 To men sweet peace be given, 
 Sweet peace and friendship to the end of time." 
 
EXHIBITION OF iS6j. 137 
 
 What is the strength of opinions ? Opinions are 
 ideas — condensed thoughts. They are formed by 
 experience, observation, analysis and generaHza- 
 tion ; and are developed by schools and printing 
 presses. They too are a force — but a force intel- 
 lectual and enduring. Public opinion, firing all hearts, 
 making all heroes cowards, and cowards heroes, rules 
 the world. It becomes a custom, and monarchs can- 
 not change it. Kindling the fires of fanaticism, it 
 empties Europe on Asia, or wraps America in flames. 
 
 Much more powerful are enlightened and Chris- 
 tian opinions in advancing civilization. Inventing 
 a'press, they print a Bible ; and stamp progress on 
 every page of history. Under their influence the 
 hydra, terrible upon the waters, and the dragon, 
 vomiting fire, are metamorphosed into the steam- 
 ship and locomotive ; the savage becomes a man ; 
 he dives into the profundity of philosophy ; flashes 
 his thoughts over magnetic wires ; and with the 
 airy lightness of genius soars to the farthest bounds 
 of immensity. 
 
 Enlightened and Christian opinions are the firm 
 foundation of free institutions. They are the strength 
 of republics; 3^et this strength does not consist, like a 
 despotism, in a centralizing power. Yesterday Maine 
 and California, the farthest removed from its centre, 
 vied with each other in supporting our government, 
 while the feeble majorities were given by the mid- 
 dle States. True the opinions of the masses are 
 10 
 
138 1HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 neither enlightened nor Christian ; hence unquahfied 
 democracies lead to anarchy, the worst form of 
 despotism ; and are therefore failures. On the 
 other hand, representative democracies, whose lib- 
 erties are in proportion to the intelligence of the 
 people, which mortgage their wealth and education 
 for the enlightenment of the masses, are the 
 strongest forms of government, as God grant the 
 United States may abundantly prove to a skeptical 
 world ! 
 
 Enlightened and Christian opinions unite na- 
 tions. Before the light of Christianity the race was 
 diverging ; now it is converging. A comparatively 
 common language ; manufactories, creating a m.u- 
 tual dependence; commerce, disregarding boundless 
 oceans — these are some of the means by which en- 
 lightened opinions unite the nations. Christian 
 opinions, illuminating the darkest portions of the 
 earth, causing the isles of the sea to rejoice, and 
 the east to answer the west with anthems of praise, 
 bind them together with golden chains. Chris- 
 tianity is synonymous with peace and unity. Its 
 full power can not be known, till man, made per- 
 fect in heaven, comprehends all the beatitudes of 
 religion, multiplied by time and squared by eternity. 
 Science makes union ; Christianity makes union ; 
 enlightened and Christian opinions are the great 
 union makers of the world. Are not opinions 
 stronger than armies 'i The convulsed lips of the 
 
EXHIBITION OF iS6s. 139 
 
 poisoned Socrates proclaim it ; the classic periods 
 of Tully proclaim it ; the mute eloquence of the 
 past and the fiery logic of the present proclaim it. 
 It may be objected that Marathon, Yorktown and 
 Gettysburg were glorious triumphs of arms. True, 
 but were they not also glorious triumphs of opin- 
 ions ? What were those conquering armies but 
 embodiments of a lofty patriotism, the genius of 
 liberty and the spirit of freedom } Our glorious 
 victories — what are they but drumbeats that keep 
 time to the march of opinions } Our armies — they 
 are not composed of vassals, but of thinkers, voters, 
 men, — high-minded men, who use the ballot as 
 wisely as they do skillfully the sword, sustaining 
 with brain-sweat and heart-blood their grand opin- 
 ions. 
 
 Enlightened Christian opinions have crowded our 
 thousands of heroes on to the field ; levied taxes 
 such as no despot dare levy ; reelected those deter- 
 mined to crush with iron hand the enemies of our 
 government, thus striking a terrible blow at rebel- 
 lion and holding at bay hostile nations. The 
 American flag, with no stain upon its ample folds, 
 represents one grand opinion, one great idea — uni- 
 versal freedom. That idea fires the hearts of 
 patriots ; shifts the lines of freedom on the map ; 
 strikes the shackles from millions ; clothes state 
 after state in the white robes of liberty ; rears the 
 pillars of national greatness upon the firm founda- 
 
I40 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 tion of equality and justice. Impelled by this idea 
 America is grand ; and can proudly bid defiance to 
 the world. 
 
 Nations have arisen to the plenitude of their power 
 only when all their elements of strength have been 
 bound together by the force of a great idea. With 
 the Israelites it was a theocracy, with the Greeks 
 democracy, with the Romans liberty, with America 
 freedom. Such an opinion working silently among 
 the masses for ages, at length bursts forth in storms 
 of revolution in whose temipestuous fury liberty is 
 born, in whose rough surges republics are cradled. 
 A fiery despotism withers and burns, and desolates 
 France ; silently the people think. A little cloud 
 appears in the horizon, and, anon, the wild tempest 
 of '89 tears France as the tornado does the forest. 
 Opinions are stronger than armies. 
 
 Though armies sometimes support enlightened 
 and Christian opinions, they are generally antago- 
 nistic to them. When force clashes with principle, 
 where is the victory } 
 
 The patriots of the Netherlands, fired by a love 
 of liberty, throw off the yoke of Spanish tyranny ; 
 they rush to the field of battle ; the iron Duke of 
 Alva cuts them down by thousands. Again they 
 unfurl freedom's banner, and are scourged and 
 scourged, and scourged again ; years pass ; the 
 patriots raise another army ; Spanish veterans an- 
 nihilate it at a blow. Surely armies are stronger 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86s. 1 4 1 
 
 than opinions. But wait ; the patriots con- 
 quered. No! God fights this battle. For three 
 ages they struggle on ; they tear down their dykes ; 
 rush with the fury of madness upon their besiegers ; 
 beardless boys become heroes ; timid girls, heroines ; 
 daring, suffering all things, the}^ at length triumph. 
 Enlightened opinions are stronger than armies. 
 
 Three centuries ago a little monk stood before an 
 assemblage of princes. Against him are arra5^ed 
 the despots of Europe. He believes in his Bible 
 and his God. He boldly proclaims the idea — lib- 
 erty of thought. The effect of this opinion — who 
 does not know it } It unlocked the treasures of 
 the Bible ; shook the nations ; caused northern 
 Europe, poor and ignorant, to beautify herself with 
 cities, like a bride lavish of her diamonds ; and to 
 become the great repository of knowledge ; while 
 without it, southern Europe, with its clear sky and 
 marble palaces, has sunk to wretchedness and im- 
 becility. The sword of tyrants dripped with blood ; 
 but martyrdom was power ; such is universal his- 
 tory. 
 
 " Right forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne, 
 But that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim un- 
 known 
 Standeth God within the shadow% keeping watch above his 
 own." 
 
 Christian opinions are stronger than armies. 
 
 Such is the strength of enlightened and Christian 
 
142 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 opinions. It is mental ; enduring ; the palladium 
 of democracies ; uniting nations ; and developing 
 the great principles of virtue and freedom. Thus 
 the history of civilization has been the record of the 
 triumphs of opinions. 
 
 Armies are red swords and brute force ; opinions 
 are sceptres of peace and intellectual power. 
 Armies are war chariots ; opinions are locomo- 
 tives. Armies are despotisms, barbarism, darkness ; 
 opinions are republics, civilization, light. Armies 
 conquer by crushing ; opinions conquer by convinc- 
 ing. The power of armies is the power of the 
 whirlwind, fearful, all-destructive ; the power of 
 opinions is the power of the sunbeam, gentle, all- 
 preservmg. Armies are weaker than the laws 
 which control them, weaker than the despots who 
 use them ; opinions are stronger than all laws, 
 creating or abolishing them at pleasure, stronger 
 than all despots, hurling them from their thrones. 
 Armies are the towers of strength which men have 
 built ; opinions are the surging waves of the ocean, 
 which God has made, beating against those towers 
 and crumbling them to dust. 
 
 The dim light of the past reveals to us the forms 
 of gigantic empires, w^hose mighty armies seem om- 
 nipotent. A halo of martial glory surrounds them, 
 then fades away ; their marble thrones crumble ; 
 their iron limbs are broken ; their proud navies are 
 sunk. 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSOj. 143 
 
 To-da}^ history, dipping its pencil in sunlight, 
 records the sublime triumphs of opinions. The 
 sword rounds the periods of the pen ; the ballot 
 wings the bullet ; schoolhouses accompany cannon 
 balls ; and principles bombard forts and thunder 
 from ironclads. Glorious is the morning dawn ! 
 Science fringes the lands of darkness with a border 
 of light ; and the sun of Christianity, glowing along 
 the eastern waters, arches the bow of promise above 
 the golden western hills. 
 
 Inspiration only can paint the future. But God 
 grant that it may be no delusive dream, that the 
 rays of light, gleaming along the horizon, may be 
 but the morning glory of an effulgent millennial 
 day ; that America shall conquer the world with 
 ideas ; that senates shall become earth's battle- 
 fields ; that new constellations, composed of 
 brightest stars, shall emblazon the victories of lib- 
 erty ; that science and religion, powerful as the 
 law of gravitation, shall bind together the nations 
 into one brotherhood ; that our banner and God's, 
 eternally luminous, the proud standard of enlight- 
 ened and Christian opinions, shall float triumphant 
 forevermore, 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1866. 
 
 " Genius and Labor," 
 
 Byron Watts Baker. 
 " The Prometheus of jEschylus and Milton's Satan," 
 
 Haines Drake Cunningham. 
 " The Strength of a RepubUe," 
 
 John Milton Holley. 
 " The Statesmanship of Moses, " 
 
 Abel Grosvenor Hopkins, 
 
 George Norton. 
 " The Position of Holland in History," 
 
 Charles Sterling Millard. 
 " Will a Knowledge of Moral Obligations insure Obedience?" 
 
 THE POSITION OF HOLLAND IN HISTORY. 
 
 BY CHARLES S. MILLARD. 
 
 WHO has not read Knickerbocker's History of 
 New York ? Who has not been won by its 
 genial humor, its exaggeration of personal trait and 
 national character ; its quaint word portraiture of 
 the Dutch forefathers of two hundred years ago .-* 
 Two generations have read it ; and from its mock 
 historic pages have drawn their opinions of the 
 Dutchman. This opinion is as unjust as it is popu- 
 lar. Washington Irving did not intend that his 
 humorous, though symmetrically drawn figures of the 
 Dutch should induce the belief that the Hollander 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1866. 
 
 145 
 
 is an ale-drinking, tobacco-smoking, cabbage-eat- 
 ing individual, a synomyn for inertia, obesity and 
 gluttony. Thanks to John Lathrop Motley's history 
 — that other splendid monument of American 
 genius — this opinion is rapidly being removed. 
 From the long hidden archives of the Old World, he 
 has brought forth proofs that the Dutch have a real 
 and earnest history, and that the history of the Dutch 
 Republic is as proud a record as any nation need 
 covet. In the Dutch, we see no more the pedantic 
 rustics of our childhood, the sensual, inactive objects 
 of ridicule and contempt, but in their stead appear 
 the most enterprising and vigorous people in Europe; 
 the most aggressive in spirit ; the most independent 
 in opinion ; the most persistent in defending their 
 rights. 
 
 The country of the Dutch occupies but an insig- 
 nificant area on the map of Europe. On the shores 
 of the German Ocean, it was literally wrested from 
 the embraces of that ocean ; and to-day, stands 
 the trophy of a patient, industrious people. Its 
 name tells us how, and its miles of dykes must 
 have given it the appearance of a " hollow land." 
 Where twice each day the sea asserted its sway, 
 have for centuries stood the most flourishing villages, 
 and the most opulent towns on the Continent. 
 
 A half a century before the Christian era, the 
 warlike tribes of the Ardennes baffled the victorious 
 Caesar. But the great commander's sophistry was 
 
146 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 more potent than his army, and by his statesman- 
 ship he Hnked the brave Belgae to his Roman car. 
 This alliance was the first step toward Dutch civili- 
 zation. Yet for fifteen hundred years the history 
 of Holland is but a parallel to that of the other 
 European nations. Steadily it grew in wealth, 
 civilization and power. Now it makes rapid strides 
 under the constructive genius of Charlemagne ; now 
 it falters, halts, and almost retrogrades, under the 
 imbecile reign of the House of Burgundy. Not 
 until the sixteenth century does it assume its prom- 
 inent position among European dynasties. That 
 era, so prolific in great men and lofty ideas ; so 
 fruitful in intellectual activity and gigantic enter- 
 prise ; so grand in its tremendous political and 
 religious struggles, gave birth to the Dutch Republic. 
 
 The splendid empire of Charles V. was erected 
 upon the grave of liberty. But during the reign of 
 his successor, the spirit quickened, the sepulchre 
 gave up its dead, and freedom rose triumphant. 
 The fifteenth century, of dominant bigotry and ab- 
 solutism, left Holland struggling under the tyranny 
 of the House of Austria ; the sixteenth century, of 
 budding reform and liberty, placed the Netherlands 
 at the zenith of their power — independent. 
 
 The position of Holland in history then, is the 
 position it occupied during this century. It may be 
 truly said that it was then the most important 
 nation in Europe. At that time England, France and 
 
EXHIBITION OF i866. 147 
 
 Spain were the three great monarchies of the Conti- 
 nent. The province of Holland held the balance 
 of power ; by the aid of which either of these 
 monarchies could make herself mistress of half the 
 world. The causes which gave her this power 
 were numerous. Her geographical position was 
 favorable, and her people were industrious, enter- 
 prising and intelligent. They had made their nar- 
 row territory the abode of agriculture and manu- 
 factures. Their commerce encircled with its golden 
 chain the world. The coveted fabrics of the Dutch 
 looms were carried by their adventurous sailors to 
 England, the countries of the Mediterranean, and 
 even to remote India. Their merchants became 
 opulent, and their cities teemed with a vigorous, 
 powerful, ambitious populace. Not only were they 
 conspicuous in commerce, but also in science and 
 art. The invention of printing opened its channels 
 of influence to Dutch talent and erudition. The 
 Dutch universities were fountains of learning and 
 scientific discovery. Their poetry was hewn out 
 in the. graceful outlines of their magnificent cathe- 
 drals, and Dutch architects gave solidity and beauty 
 to the abodes of merchant princes. Music was 
 cultivated, and a Dutchman invented oil painting, 
 to perpetuate the records of genius. Such was 
 Holland's material and intellectual position at the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Let us now inquire what was its political condi- 
 
148 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 tion and relations. As yet it was not free. Although 
 independent in spirit, and fully competent for self- 
 government, the Netherlands were practically a 
 part of that overshadowing power which then held 
 chief sway over most of the Continent. The sceptre 
 was held by Count Charles 11. , better known as 
 Charles V. — King of Spain, Sicily and Jerusalem, 
 Duke of Milan, Emperor of Germany, dominator 
 in Asia and Africa, autocrat of half the world. 
 The events of this brilliant reign are known to all. 
 The ambition of the second Charlemagne was to 
 force into discordant union nations antagonistic in 
 history, customs and laws ; to combine under one 
 sceptre of central despotism, millions, for the sake 
 of forming a grand family inheritance. But he 
 came an age too late. The spirit of reform was too 
 powerful to be subdued even by his iron will. The 
 cause of the failure of Charles V. was his attempt 
 to unite Holland with Spain, to make the two de- 
 pendencies homogeneous, to link Dutch love of 
 liberty with the uncompromising bigotry of the 
 Spaniard. The royal despot attempted to force 
 upon Holland the hated formula of the Romish 
 Church. This attempt gave birth to that revolu- 
 tion which shook Europe to its very centre. 
 
 Charles V. sowed the seeds, and his successor 
 reaped the fruits of this revolution. To Philip H. 
 the Netherlands vv^ere but the source from which to 
 replenish his empty exchequer. Not content with 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1866. 1 49 
 
 reducing his prosperous subjects to penury by exor- 
 bitant taxation, he engendered their hatred by the 
 most cruel rehgious persecutions. He estabhshed 
 an inquisition with attributes still more terrific than 
 even the atrocious tribunal of Spain. In short, in 
 a single year, the treasonable acts of Philip fanned 
 the smouldering embers of insurrection into a flame 
 of open rebellion, and Holland's grandest struggle 
 began. 
 
 History presents no record of more persistent 
 persecution, and more determined defence than this 
 war. Humanity shudders at the horrid recital. 
 The haughty monarch laid waste the country. He 
 destroyed its commerce. The inquisition deluged 
 the land with blood. There was not a town in the 
 province whose streets were not made appalling by 
 the dangling victims of the gibbet, and the charred 
 remains of martyrs of the stake. Cities were 
 given up to the demoniac lusts of ruthless soldiery. 
 In their lurid light shone forth the fixed determina- 
 tion of the bigoted fanatic. Within half a score 
 of years eighteen thousand innocent victims were 
 immolated upon the altar of Philip's despotism. 
 
 But Dutch patriotism was strengthened rather 
 than extinguished by this oppression. The atro- 
 cious despotism of the king forced the strongest 
 defenders of the state religion to espouse the cause 
 of the patriots. Thus they became at once repub- 
 licans and Protestants. Steadily the little province 
 
I50 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 of Holland gathered to itself the rivulets of discon- 
 tented factions, the rills of tyrant hatred, and the 
 mountain streams of religious freedom ; and ming- 
 ling these in one mighty torrent, rolled them down 
 against tyranny and sacerdotal bigotry, and swept 
 them av/ay forever. Religious persecution found 
 its first resistance in the iconoclasts. From image 
 breaking grew open resistance to the king's arms. 
 The little bands attendant upon field preaching 
 grew to powerful armies. In their extreme the 
 revolutionists needed a leader. Providence sent 
 one. He was the great William the Silent. 
 He was the exponent of the spirit of the nation. 
 Circumstances had peculiarly developed him for 
 this position. For years the brightest star in Philip's 
 court, he knew well the character of Holland's foe. 
 To the patriot cause he brought a long experience, 
 a powerful influence, and an unyielding determina- 
 tion. He organized the furious mobs into w^ell dis- 
 ciplined armies. And with them dealt such mighty 
 blows that even the Duke of Alva crouched and 
 cowered. He obtained recognition from France, 
 England, and Germany. He was their statesman and 
 v/arrior, their diplomatist and financier, William 
 the Silent it was who gave his country political 
 existence, in spite of the arts of a Philip, the diplo- 
 macy of a Granville, the bloody acts of an Alva ; 
 v/ho nursed it into freedom, and who finally beheld 
 it in the vigor and prime of its independence. In 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1866. j 5 1 
 
 his life, he was the Washington of the Dutch Re- 
 pubhc ; in his death, its Lincoln. 
 
 Never did a nation make greater sacrifices or evince 
 greater determination to win freedom than did the 
 Dutch. For eighty years the conflict raged. 
 Rather than submit to the grinding despotism of 
 the tenth-penny tax, they gave all to throw off the 
 tyranny of its imposer. In their eagerness for 
 liberty they cut the dykes ; they chose to give Hol- 
 land back to old ocean, rather than see it polluted 
 by the hordes of Spain. Ostrawell and Valen- 
 ciennes, with their butchery ; Harlem, with its 
 heroic woman battalion ; Leyden, with its desper- 
 ate reply ; Ghent, with its smouldering ruins, and 
 seven thousand citizens slain ; Antwerp, twice be- 
 sieged ; the great Armada with its twenty thousand 
 sailors, conquered ; Nevv^port, with its terrible hand 
 to hand conflict ; all attest the sincerity of Dutch 
 patriotism ; v/hile Mons and Alkmaar, names hal- 
 lowed by deeds of valor, to-day breathe as open 
 defiance to despotism as Thermopyl^ or Salamis. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle, in commenting upon this war, 
 once said : " The Dutch are the bravest people in 
 the world. Men have run after the red rag of a 
 Frenchman, but the defence of Dutch Protestants 
 against Spain is the grandest thing in history." 
 **Ah !" said he, " v/hen Philip sent the Duke of 
 Alva and his popish cutthroats to do the business 
 for Holland, those Dutchmen squelched him just 
 as ye'ld squelch a rotten egg." 
 
152 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 From this terrible struggle Holland emerged one 
 of the first powers in Europe, and took its position 
 in history. 
 
 It had become conspicuous by its sufferings and 
 achievements. It stood, the beacon light, to guide 
 the nations to civilization. From the blood of its 
 martyrs sprung a pure and undefiled religion. It 
 had been the battle-field upon which liberty had 
 conquered despotism. In its agony it acquired 
 something for all mankind. The maintenance of 
 right by Holland in the sixteenth, by Holland and 
 England in the seventeenth, and by America in the 
 eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, are all links of 
 one great chain. The greatness of its people and the 
 preeminent greatness of its statesmen, its warriors, 
 its scholars and its artists, made its history endur- 
 ing and glorious. Erasmus, the compeer of Luther ; 
 Grotius, the brilliant star of a century later ; Van 
 Tromp, the Farragut of the seventeenth century ; 
 the great Prince of Orange, the first statesman of 
 his age, and almost the first in history ; these are 
 some of the names which adorn Dutch history. 
 
 In the year 1608 the persecuted Puritans fled 
 from English despotism and bigotry to the freedom 
 of action and belief which the Netherlands aft'orded. 
 There they learned its lessons of self-government, 
 and the conditions and duties of freedom. They 
 gathered in their souls the spirit of the revolution 
 which made Holland free. They were born anew 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1866. 
 
 153 
 
 on Dutch soil ; and when they landed on Plymouth 
 Rock they brought with them that which, taking 
 root in the new founded colonies, grew and 
 strengthened; spread undivided ; became a power ; 
 asserted its independence ; maintained and 
 strengthened that independence ; reasserted it — 
 lives, and is the United States of America. 
 
 Surely we, who are the heirs of civil and religious 
 liberty, can appreciate the position of Holland in 
 history. 
 
 II 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 
 
 "Is the Character of an Author Revealed in His Writings?" 
 
 Edwin Baldwin. 
 "The Missionary as a Pioneer of Civilization," 
 
 Amory Howe Bradford. 
 "The Reciprocal Influence of Races in the United States," 
 
 David Riddle Breed. 
 "The Rise and Influence of Great Cities," 
 
 Frederick Henry Kellogg, 
 
 Chester Jennings Lyon. 
 "The Legacy of the Federalists," 
 
 Sidney Allyn Sherwin. 
 " Knowledge and Culture." 
 
 THE LEGACY OF THE FEDERALISTS. 
 
 BY SIDNEY A. SHERWIN. 
 
 IN 1783, the exodus from British domination was 
 accomplished. The Children of the Republic 
 had passed the Red Sea of War, and pitched their 
 tents in the Promised Land. Upon what could 
 they ground a hope of final rest after their bloody 
 pilgrimage ? They were without efficient govern- 
 ment. Powerless to enforce the least of its decrees, 
 Congress was begging for money, and getting prom- 
 ises ; making treaties for the States to disregard. 
 The States seeking to be sovereign, were slaves to 
 mutual jealousies. Fearful of encroachments, they 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 1 5 5 
 
 stood at bay, eyeing each other as Athens eyed 
 Sparta ; in the first days of freedom committing 
 the last fatal error of republics. With the people, 
 industry was paralyzed ; trade fettered. Foreign 
 navigation acts driving our merchants from the 
 seas, the commerce of the confederation had 
 dwindled to a few hundred hulks beating their 
 empty sides against our barren wharves. 
 
 The better to devise a remiedy for this universal 
 prostration of national energies, a convention was 
 called ; two parties sprang, full-armed, into vigor- 
 ous life ; opinions clashed, and the contest began 
 for closer union of constitutional liberty with 
 constitutional law. One party, justly suspicious 
 of a community of States loosely thrown together, 
 advocated a stronger bond of union through a grant 
 of more effective powers to the general government. 
 Assuming a name not suggested by the principles 
 they held, these men are known in history as Fed- 
 eralists. Their influence upon the popular will, 
 the impress of their principles upon the statesman- 
 ship of that day, the partial embodiment of those 
 principles in the Constitution, and its development 
 and practical working in our national life, consti- 
 tute the legacy of the Federalists. 
 
 The Convention of 1787 had assembled to frame 
 a new government. History was to be their guide. 
 Hitherto government had been based upon a single 
 idea. Greece deified liberty ; and when the goddess 
 
156 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 had received in sacrifice every element of Grecian 
 power and glory, she fled the altar. Rome deified 
 law. She wrote law in her books ; inscribed law 
 above the gates of her temples ; burned law into 
 the heart of the citizen ; branded law upon the 
 backs of conquered nations ; until the rigor of law 
 broke the power of Rome. These two legacies the 
 dead emipires left to one nation. England took 
 Grecian liberty and harnessed it v/ith Roman law. 
 Seven centuries of revolution followed. Liberty, 
 in behalf of the people, rebelled. Law, in behalf 
 of government, coerced. But a higher power held 
 the nation steady and solved the world's vexatious 
 problem — union of government with people — of law 
 with liberty. At first, all rights and powers of the 
 British realm were in dispute between crown and 
 nobility. When the turbulent spirit of the feudal 
 lord yielded to the kingly prerogative, the nation 
 rose to pov/er and influence. But when both king 
 and aristocrat succumbed to the higher power ; 
 when the Englishman found himself making law, 
 as he made liberty, subservient to his own v/ell- 
 being ; when the sovereign was taken from the 
 shoulders and placed in the arms of the subject ; 
 then for the first time the interests of the govern- 
 ment and people became identical. Then the 
 nation's song, God Save the King, (not the aristo- 
 crat the king) was written — a people's prayer for 
 Him to save liberty and law, 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 157 
 
 Such was the picture on the canvas of the past. 
 In the dim shadow of this higher power was recog- 
 nized the builder of the broadest, freest empire on 
 the earth. Catching the spirit of Enghsh growth, 
 the Federahsts held, as the mighty purpose of na- 
 tional existence, not liberty alone, not law, but pro- 
 gress. Said they : The people shall have liberty ; 
 but it shall not be supreme. Supremacy shall clothe 
 the law. Supreme law shall be vitalized, energized 
 by executive power. This cohesive conservative 
 power of coercion shall spring from the people, 
 **the only pure fountain of legitimate authority." 
 It shall be exerted upon the people, to restrain 
 license, to conserve rights. It shall be exercised 
 by one central, national government, to which the 
 public welfare is confided. We recognize the 
 rights of men, but the rights of a state aristocracy 
 we ignore. 
 
 Opposed to this sweeping assumption of popular 
 sovereignty, were minds wedded to the exploded 
 theories of ancient Greece. Men, who confound- 
 ing possession with abuse of power, saw national 
 calamity in governmental strength. Every grant 
 to central authority is so much shorn from the 
 rights of States. For more than a hundred years, 
 had not these States stood between the people and 
 royalty's abusive hand } Had they not for more 
 than a hundred years been virtual guardians of pop- 
 ular liberty } With popular liberty history associated 
 
158 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 the highest achievements of the race. Secure in 
 his individual freedom, behind the bulwarks of state 
 sovereignty, the sturdy Greek breasted the assaults 
 of eastern barbarism, while the throbs of his great 
 free heart sent the blood of civilization coursing 
 through the veins of Europe. Says the anti-Fed- 
 eralist : If you do not curb the spirit of your law, 
 it wdll enslave liberty. 
 
 Divide Congress into two bodies ; create an inde- 
 pendent judiciary ; answered the champion of pro- 
 gress. 
 
 But where is the final limit to these stringent 
 powers t " 
 
 National law is coexistent with national growth. 
 Limit the future of the Republic, enumerate the 
 dangers seen and unseen, include the last point 
 v/here liberty broadens into license, there you will 
 find the executive arm administering the legislative 
 command. 
 
 Such was the Federalist's idea of '* a more per- 
 fect union." Inspired by it, on the floor of the 
 convention, they won their great victory. The 
 Constitution was indeed a compromise. It did not 
 fully express their views. But when it went before 
 the popular tribunal, for final judgment, they were 
 its only friends and advocates. They relaxed no 
 effort, yielded no point, accepted no conditions, 
 until the last State was pledged to rest in the arms 
 of all the people. On that day state sovereignty 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 1 5 g 
 
 was driven to the wall ; and the destroyer of ancient 
 republics, the million-headed, million-handed giant 
 Genius of Democracy, bound hand and foot, was 
 delivered up to the American freeman, the sovereign 
 democrat, as a servant and bondsman forever. 
 
 The Constitution, as an exposition of political 
 truth, was certainly incomplete. Yet, in that very 
 incompleteness, the Genius of Federalism discov- 
 ered the open door to progress. It v/as folly to 
 bind the present to a dead past. It was madness 
 to chain the future to a dying present. Therefore, 
 while the opposition strove to limit national juris- 
 diction to the strict letter of the parchment, the 
 Federalists asserted the imperative necessity of a 
 more liberal construction. Chosen first adminis- 
 trators of the government they had formed, they 
 popularized their creed, and rendered it a part of 
 our political faith. 
 
 When a government lays down a principle as 
 fundamental law, whithersoever the principle leads, 
 the government must follow. Implied powers, 
 then, are essential powers. By their seizure, 
 kings become despots ; leagued, sovereign states, 
 anarchists. France stood upon her right divine of 
 kings. Beneath her monstrous falsehood she 
 smothered all popular growth, until French aspira- 
 tions became volcanic fires. In 1789 an explosion 
 shook the Continent. Old foundations were up- 
 turned ; French politics were dislocated ; license 
 
1 6o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 made havoc with law ; anarchy made havoc with 
 France ; guillotine was king. Italy gave her des- 
 tinies in charge of sovereign states. She has 
 reared the first statesmen in Europe and banished 
 them to the courts of her rivals ; the bravest sol- 
 diers in Europe, they led the bands of France and 
 Germxany ; the most enlightened philosophers, they 
 shed their light on other lands through Italian 
 prison-bars. She has inspired the sw^eetest, grand- 
 est poets and driven them forth, wandering Ishmaels 
 of song. Yesterday, fleeing from state sovereignty, 
 determined to have refuge even behind a throne, 
 Italy went backward fourteen hundred years, when 
 the Roman Empire, falling, crushed Italian unity. 
 Now, search our own history. What do we find ? 
 Necessity becomes the freeman's plea. Marshall, 
 discerning in the Constitution * ' more truth than is 
 written there;" Webster, asserting "government 
 above and beyond all precedent ;" Seward, trusting 
 in a *' higher law;" every statesman, whose name 
 sheds lustre on our national renown, has heard, 
 in free interpretation, the ' ' Forward March " to 
 progress. Every administration, from Washington 
 to Lincoln, has pressed into service as the ally of 
 law and defender of liberty, this doctrine of con- 
 stitutional law implied. Jefferson saw no written 
 word to justify the acquisition of Louisiana where- 
 by the Spaniard found the gates of the Mississippi 
 in better hands than his. Madison, in defiance of 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 161 
 
 New England's sovereign rights, enforced the first 
 conscription acts. Andrew Jackson, in a free in- 
 terpretation of constitutional law, revealed to 
 recreant Carolina the Federalist plan of national 
 salvation. Lincoln and the loyal North believed 
 what Jackson taught. By implied pov/er they 
 saved the nation, put secession to the sword, 
 strangled slavery, and four million freedmen bless 
 to-day the Federalist doctrine of emancipation. 
 
 In our history, then, implied powers have been 
 essential to civil liberty ; have upheld the govern- 
 ment in all times of peril ; have strengthened the 
 State ; freed the people ; and are, to-day, leading 
 us forward, step by step, in steady progress, towards 
 the government's ideal. 
 
 The body of the Constitution, as it stands re- 
 corded, the accepted interpretation, is the legacy 
 of the Federalists. Who will compute its value ? 
 Without it, what had our Union been ? A mere 
 compact of States, which the first shock of adverse 
 internal interests had shivered into fragments ; 
 and the Republic, with its own ruins, paved the 
 pathway of advancing empire. With it, we have 
 builded a fabric of free government ; which, though 
 winds without may blow and storms within convulse, 
 will, I believe, stand through all ages, a monument 
 reared to the genius and integrity of men who 
 rocked infant liberty in the cradle of the law. 
 
 And now, when secession's carnival of blood is 
 
1 62 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ended, while the nation's wounds are heahng, let 
 Americans, from North, and South, and East, and 
 West, gather together, members of one common 
 brotherhood, and swear to pr-eserve their priceless 
 inheritance. Whatever misfortune another war 
 may bring; if commerce is swallov/ed in the deep; 
 if the wheels of manufacture cease their busy whirl- 
 ing; if the plow stands still in the furrow and the 
 hand of labor is palsied ; if every avenue of wealth 
 is closed ; nay, if national wealth itself vanishes 
 like mist before the nation's eyes, still let the oath be 
 recorded: "We will preserve the law." If liberty 
 seems to sink into earth, preserve the law ; and 
 liberty will rise again. Resurrected law is bitter 
 tyranny. Preserve the law, for * * her throne is 
 the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the 
 world." 
 
 I would not detract from the honorable fame of 
 men who love the milder creed. When freedom's 
 star rose in our eastern sky, their vision caught the 
 radiance of its beams, their souls thrilled with its 
 immortal glow, and their voices rang golden tidings 
 to the people in the land. Enshrined in our hearts 
 with the liberty they love so v/ell, their names can 
 never die. But they will live in the work of their 
 stern antagonists whom they feared and denounced 
 as monarchists and conspirators. War's fires have 
 consumed the veil which shrouded Federalist char- 
 acter and purpose. Returning peace casts a brighter 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1867. 1 6 3 
 
 halo about the memory of Washington, the nation's 
 first, greatest exemplar ; and Madison ; and Jay ; 
 and Morris, that brilliant statesman, ' ' the national 
 extremist," when national men were few. But 
 above and before them all shines the name of him, 
 their gallant leader, the acknowledged exponent of 
 the Federalist idea ; him, in whose active brain was 
 centred the wisdom, prudence and daring of all 
 the rest ; him, who labored early and long, with 
 sword and speech and pen, to surround the people's 
 rights with the safeguards of a people's law, Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, the father and child of the Re- 
 public. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1868. 
 
 " The Democracy of Christianity," 
 
 Henry Everett Case Daniels. 
 " Roads a Symbol of the Age," 
 
 Charles Francis Janes. 
 "The Debt we owe Charles Dickens," 
 
 John Henry Knox. 
 " The Achievements of the American Nav3^" 
 
 Martin Rumsey Miller. 
 "The Truth about Poland," 
 
 James Hazleton Willard, 
 
 Myron Gilbert Willard. 
 "The Value of Humor to the Public Man." 
 
 THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE AMERICAN NAVY. 
 
 by martin r. miller. 
 
 THE annals of the American navy borrov^ their 
 chief lustre from the achievements of recent 
 date. Its early promises were resplendent with 
 indications of strength, and coming readiness for 
 the emergencies of national trial and defense. The 
 laurels won in the Revolution and the War of 1 8 1 2 
 on the high seas, were no mean tribute of honor 
 to skillful officers and brave crev/s. 
 
 The Algerine war, which suppressed the most 
 terrible system of piracy history records, and forced 
 the Old World to acknowledge that ' ' America had 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1868. 1 6 5 
 
 done more for Christendom against barbarians than 
 all the powers of Europe combined ;" the exploits 
 of John Paul Jones, whose name alone was a 
 ' * Marsellaise Hymn " to his followers ; the gallant 
 actions of Lawrence, choosing death before cow- 
 ardice, w^hose words became the motto of the 
 American navy, and coupled his name forever with 
 her grand honor roll ; and further on in our na- 
 tion's history. Perry, with colors in hand, leaving 
 the deck of the shattered Lawrence, 'neath a raking 
 fire, leaping upon the old Niagara and snatching 
 victory from the very jaws of death ; these 
 achievements, ever fresh in the nation's memory, 
 were w^onderful in their day, characterized by un- 
 paralleled bravery, and involved the life or death 
 of the embryo republic. 
 
 But to us, living at a period when fifty slain is 
 called a skirmish, and to merit the name of a bat- 
 tle, demands the slaughter of hundreds, the con- 
 flicts of the Revolution, although enhancmg our 
 pride and glory, were comparativel}^ small and in- 
 considerable. To us of to-day, the period between 
 the years '61 and '65 is the proper standpoint from 
 which to view the achievements of the American 
 navy. 
 
 When in the spring of '61 the long threatened 
 civil war became a reality, the executive proclama- 
 tion declared the whole coast of rebeldom to be 
 under blockade, the American navy, now the first 
 
1 66 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 maritime power of the world, then consisted of 
 seventy-six vessels, but four of which were within 
 reach of its orders, manned by only two hundred 
 and seven marines. This was the power, so scat- 
 tered in foreign seas, so meager in material, so 
 utterly deficient in men, that was to accomplish the 
 Titanic undertaking. 
 
 As circumstances often make men, so casualties 
 made the American navy. Merchantmen became 
 men-of-war. The commerce of the lakes, the ship- 
 ping of New York and Philadelphia, — all sent to 
 the navy yards their representatives, which seemed 
 to say : 
 
 ' ' Build me straight, O worthy master ! 
 Staunch and strong a goodly vessel, 
 That will laugh at all disaster, 
 
 And with wave and whirlwind wrestle." 
 
 To the old navy, — insignificant, but not inopera- 
 tive, this extemporized fleet was a powerful ally. 
 The force was small, but constantly increasing ; 
 the line was long, but still extending ; the attempts 
 to break it were bold, but still augmenting; till, as 
 time rolled on, our navy grew in size, vigilance and 
 activity; till beacon-light answered beacon-light 
 along the whole coast, and the Confederacy was 
 shut in from the world. And what was this block- 
 ade } It was the investment of a coast, whose con- 
 tinental line alone was three thousand five hun- 
 dred and forty-nine miles, and, including the bays 
 
EXHIBITION OF i868. 167 
 
 and shores of islands within the beat of its senti- 
 nels, a shore line of eleven thousand nine hun- 
 dred and fifty-three miles, a seacoast greater than 
 that of half Europe. The political influence of 
 France and England combined to break it. The 
 manufacturers of the Old World gazed with greedy 
 eyes upon cotton lying idle in Southern markets, 
 hitherto obtained upon credit, now refusing even 
 ready gold. The working classes murmured. The 
 manufacturer trembled for his capital. The cot- 
 ton famine was followed by the bread famine, and 
 commerce received a check which made England 
 and France shake to their very centres. 
 
 Within this watchful line lay the Southern Con- 
 federacy, rich in cotton, resin and turpentine, yet 
 wanting the necessaries of life. Without were the 
 swift cruisers of jealous kingdoms, striving to open 
 the commerce thus suddenly closed. Valuable 
 prizes within and eager cupidity from without 
 threatened it. Profound statesmanship and wily 
 statecraft strove to neutralize it. The bitter hatred 
 caused by the humiliation of two wars, augmented 
 by envy at our commercial prosperity, cherished 
 the desire and even made the attempt to destroy it. 
 But these efforts were all in vain. 
 
 And now shall we hear the assertion, the blockade 
 was incomplete, a tame affair, a failure t The 
 blockade incomplete } Does the caviler forget 
 that extraordinary confession wrung from our 
 
i68 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 English ' ' friends, " — aye, forced from them by 
 deeds which can not He, ' ' that in no previous war 
 had the ports of an enemy been so effectually 
 closed by a naval force ?" The blockade a tame af- 
 fair ? Witness the long list of prizes, the avails of 
 which are over twelve millions of dollars, taken by 
 its almost matchless skill and untiring vigilance. 
 The blockade a failure ? What was it that reduced 
 the Southern States to penury ; that banished the 
 luxuries and rendered even the necessaries of life 
 almost inaccessible ; that left whole families with- 
 out food, clothing or fuel ; that destroyed their 
 commerce, checked their progress, exhausted, in 
 short, the resources of the Confederacy ? 
 
 This was the work of that complete blockade, 
 which has not a parallel in the annals of naval war- 
 fare, — the greatest achievement of the American 
 navy. 
 
 The events of our late war have tended to make 
 us a naval rather than a military power. Yet as 
 we review many of its fiercest struggles we find 
 these two forces, like the arms of the human 
 frame, supplementary to each other. V/ondrously 
 interwoven in the m.arches and countermarches of 
 their campaigns, each moving harmoniously in its 
 own orbit, yet pressing onward to the same great 
 end. We would not distinguish between them. 
 To consider one, we must regard the other. 
 Envy and jealousy were swallowed up in true 
 patriotism. In their unity wa^ their strength. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1868, 169 
 
 The battle of Pittsburg Landing furnishes a 
 glorious illustration. All day our troops had 
 fought. Charge followed charge. Line after line 
 advanced e'en to the cannon's mouth, then wavered 
 and broke 'neath the raking fire of the enemy. 
 Now the foe advance. On, like an avalanche, 
 they come. Post after post yields. Regiment after 
 regiment is captured. The right wing is beaten 
 back ; the left cut open ; the centre breaks, and de- 
 feat seems inevitable. When, suddenly that seem- 
 ingly omnipotent, victorious line halts, wavers, 
 and retreats. From the right came a destructive 
 fire of shot and shell, as from every gun on board 
 the Tyler and Lexington rang out that terrible 
 warning. All night long those fiery sentinels 
 watched. And as in rapid succession those iron 
 throated monsters spoke, each voice seemed the 
 quick drumbeat of a retreating foe. Two great 
 armies met and fought. Two great armies were 
 routed, and fled, leaving only their dead and wounded 
 in possession of the field, but the victory to our 
 American navy. 
 
 During those long and perilous years which tried 
 and almost destroyed the nation, years in which 
 the whole land was shaken, and the great heart of 
 the nation throbbed till every nerve trembled with 
 the shock, there was a period when the safety of all 
 depended on the navy. The army was in readi- 
 ness, but separated from the conflict by the waters 
 12 
 
1 7 o THE CLA RK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 of the restless ocean. The navy alone stood be- 
 tween the nation and her enemy. 
 
 You all remember when Norfolk was made the 
 navy yard of the Southern Confederacy ; how the 
 rebels contributed from their scanty means, and the 
 best workmen of the South gathered there; and all 
 to build a craft that should ride invincible on the 
 wave. The hull of the old Merrimac was raised 
 from its watery grave, rebuilt and iron mailed, and 
 the new Merrimac sailed out from the harbor, 
 freighted with the dearest hopes of the South. 
 
 How the nation quaked with fear as that '' seem- 
 ingly almost omnipotent monster" met and de- 
 stroyed the Minnesota, sunk the Cumberland and 
 turned northward in its path of death. Frigates 
 could not oppose it. Forts could not beat in its 
 iron sides. Destruction seemed inevitable. Just 
 at this critical moment the little ' * Yankee Cheese- 
 Box " arrived at Fortress Monroe. The stormy 
 night, the rushing wind and the rolling wave had 
 combined to destroy it. But the hand of God, who 
 rules the wind and the wave, held the helm. The 
 fort was reached; nev/s of the battle heard; and the 
 little craft steamed for the scene of action. As the 
 stripling of Israel met the giant of Philistia, so the 
 little Monitor, the monster of secession. Thrice the 
 Merrimac rushed upon the Monitor to crush her 
 with her iron prow. Thrice she is repelled, receiv- 
 ing the third time injuries which compelled her to 
 
EXHIBIT. ION OF 1868. 1 7 j 
 
 retreat. The Monitor follows, redoubling her fire, 
 till that hitherto invincible ' ' death-dealing " mon- 
 ster is driven back by the same way she came, 
 never more to return. Ericsson was rewarded. 
 The age of ironclads began. The nation was 
 saved, and the praise belonged to an Almighty God 
 and the navy of the United States. 
 
 The list of worthy names and heroic deeds is 
 long. Yet can the gratitude of a redeemed nation 
 forget the -opening of the Mississippi, that grand 
 masterpiece of naval warfare, that tore asunder the 
 very vitals of the Confederacy ; when Foote and 
 Davis, with extemporized ironclads, swept through 
 the heart of the South, leaving the victories of Fort 
 Henry, Hickman, Island No. 10 and Vicksburg to 
 illumine their path } And shall we forget how the 
 nation grew wild with joy when Rowan and Golds- 
 borough after a series of battles not more brilliant 
 than successful, reconquered the shore of North 
 Carolina; or when Dupont, circling through his 
 magnificent and fiery ellipse, humbled the nursery 
 of secession by replanting the flag on the batteries 
 of Port Royal ; or when Farragut, rushing through 
 a sea of fire, silenced Fort Jackson, demolished 
 Fort Phillips, annihilated the enemy's most effectual 
 squadron, and reoccupied, in the name of the re- 
 public, the ' ' Crescent City of the South r 
 
 That power which in its infancy contended with 
 the mistress of the seas, bravely and victoriously 
 
172 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 upheld the young repubHc on the wave, and made 
 a more successful crusade against barbarism than 
 all united Europe ; that power which in its youth 
 could boast of the name and deeds of a Perry ; 
 that in its manhood, by its unparalleled blockade, 
 saved the nation the humiliation of having the 
 standard of secession planted over three thousand 
 miles of our ocean frontier ; that began the age of 
 ironclads ; that opened the Tennessee, the Red, 
 the Cumberland, the Mississippi, and established 
 itself the ruling force on the high seas ; this power 
 was and is the American navy. 
 
 Lift aloft, then, that noble standard, which the 
 brave old Porter carried at his masthead, bearing 
 the motto, "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights ;" 
 that inscription, synonymous with the honor of 
 the navy, the freedom of the seas, the defense of 
 the national commerce. Let this great and united 
 nation, in its onward march, ever remember 
 that ' ' in fostering our naval power we are at once 
 gratifying the noblest passion of our souls — the 
 love of liberty, and are giving protection to those 
 institutions which are both our safeguard and our 
 glory." 
 
 The American navy portrays the bravery, pa- 
 triotism and genius of the American people. From 
 the Revolution till to-day it has existed, a mighty 
 power. When civil war threatened the nation it 
 was in the land. Necessity gave the command ; 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1868. 
 
 173 
 
 the forests of Maine, the oak ; the bowels of the 
 earth, the metal ; and the brain of the nation, the 
 skill. The result was the mighty ironclad, which 
 has changed the science of war and made peace 
 more desirable and imperative. 
 
 Great, then, as the achievements of the Ameri- 
 can navy have been, the true triumph will be a task 
 of pacific statesmanship. 
 
 As we walk through the war-worn frigates of our 
 navy and see the tiers of guns, they seem to us as 
 the pipes of some dread organ charged with the 
 horrible dissonance of the past. As we walk 
 through the aisles of a manufacturing hall and see 
 the long rows of gold pens, they resemble bright 
 banks of keys commanding the blessed harmonies 
 of the future. The last gunboat v/ill be laid aside 
 before the power of the pen ; but the last pen will 
 be abandoned only when the last man disappears. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1869. 
 
 "The Relations of the United States to the Indian Tribes,' 
 Charles Densmore Barrows. 
 
 "The Progress of Liberty in England," 
 
 Thomas Warner Fitch. 
 
 " Reverence in the American Character," 
 
 John Curtis Fowler. 
 
 "The Prose and Poetry of the Sea," 
 
 Otis Randall Glover. 
 
 "The Achievements of American Artists," 
 
 Simon Newton Dexter North, 
 Selden Haynes Talcott. 
 
 "The Sensational in Literature." 
 
 REVERENCE IN THE AMERICAN CHARACTER. 
 
 BY JOHN C. FOWLER. 
 
 CONCEIT invites criticism. Our American fail- 
 ing in this direction, has acted, with other 
 causes, to render it fashionable, in some quarters 
 abroad, to pick flaws in American character and 
 custom, to see rather the evil than the good phases 
 of our development. 
 
 Among the accusations thus suggested, is the lack 
 of reverence. Many foreign writers upon America 
 claim that we have no reverence for antiquity, for 
 authority in opinion, for the state, for parents, for 
 God and religion, in short for anything. 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86g. 1 7 5 
 
 Is there, indeed, no reverence in the American 
 character ? 
 
 Our fathers were reverent, and the pilgrims most 
 of all. They revered God and His truth, nature 
 and law, the holy charms of domestic life, and the 
 nobility of freedom for body and soul. Have we 
 lost our heritage of reverent faith t 
 
 The objects and manifestations of reverence 
 differ with character and culture. They are indica- 
 tive of national as well as individual tendencies. 
 Chinamen, welded to forms, controlled by an ab- 
 solute and minute despotism, are outwardly rever- 
 ential by habit and compulsion; inwardly, there is 
 indifference. This hypocrisy of reverence indicates 
 the formal superficiality of Celestial civilization. 
 Greece and Rome revered, each its peculiar sym- 
 bols ; but with imaginative Greek as with practical 
 Roman, these were objective ; in politics, the state, 
 not the people; in religion, material, not spiritual 
 power. Modern Europe reveres what is traditional; 
 society is framed upon the past, so society wor- 
 ships the past. Feudalism was the beginning of 
 advancement and power, so the people revere titles, 
 rank, nobility ; that is, they express such a rever- 
 ence ; its depth is doubtful. France showed little 
 of it in '93. We doubt its healthy growth in Bir- 
 mingham and Manchester. In religion, state and 
 church are still interwoven ; the formal reverence 
 due the one is granted to the other. 
 
176 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 Expressions are as varied as objects of reverence. 
 The Chinaman reveres slavishly ; the Greek and 
 Roman, the one with artistic intellect, the other 
 with self-abnegation for the state ; the European 
 reveres ceremonies hallowed by time, doffs the hat, 
 bows the knee, is punctilious in titles. 
 
 Now all these, we own, Americans have not. We 
 do not kiss the earth in salaams; exhale our lives in 
 artistic excellence; silently die, to widen the bounds 
 of empire; make genuflections to titles, or do 
 obeisance to the past as it absorbs the present. 
 Why should we '^. Our history is not that of tradi- 
 tion ; our government was not formed for us, but 
 by us, the people ; we have no statics, we are all 
 dynamics. How can we worship a past to which 
 we owe so little ; traditions from which we have 
 cut loose ; material rank and titles, acres and 
 heritages to which we have proven ourselves 
 superior } 
 
 But there is a reverence, born of our national 
 life, sustained by our national circumstances. 
 
 Our history has been one of ideas, ideas crystal- 
 lizing, overriding, overcoming, removing the mere- 
 ly material. These ideas are freedom and truth ; 
 freedom, full, large, universal, for body, thought 
 and soul ; truth, not present and fragmentary, but 
 all-embracing, infinite. We care little for outsides 
 if they do not mean these ; and we know these ideas 
 so well, that we look through forms and judge the 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86g. 1 7 7 
 
 essence. So our life and our character lead us to 
 revere ideas, not forms or ceremonies, or symbols, 
 but substance, meaning the essential. What care 
 we for officers, we who regard the office ; what for 
 rulers, we who are ourselves sovereigns, carrying, 
 within ourselves the ideas, the will which rules. 
 Others may take for granted that things past are 
 true; we are too much in earnest for truth to take 
 anything for granted. We probe this past ; if there 
 be truth, we honor, not the past, which merely held 
 it, but the truth itself. 
 
 Our religious reverence is of the same cast. 
 Love of freedom and eagerness for truth, are every- 
 where manifest, even in our mistakes. Each strives 
 to work out his own salvation; churches do not do 
 it for him. So we regard forms and creeds and 
 churches less, and individual heart and life-piety 
 more. 
 
 This freedom and sometimes reckless eagerness 
 for truth, often leads to error ; and thus, the very 
 desire to revere only the genuine, appears, to some, 
 lack of reverence for religion itself. Despite its 
 evils, this desire and reverence for spiritual truth is 
 vastly higher and more ennobling than any respect 
 for mere forms ; and do we not honestly come by it.-* 
 If you doubt, go back with Tacitus into dim Ger- 
 manic forests, and behold our far-off ancestry wor- 
 shiping divinity unembodied and unseen, while 
 the less noble Roman bowed to material effigies of 
 sensual imaginings. 
 
1 7 8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 And, truly, whatever may be the faults or ab- 
 surdities of some American creeds, there is here a 
 practical reverence for religion rarely found abroad. 
 God's name has never become a by-word in polite 
 society, like the " Mon Dieu" of the French; 
 or the Sabbath, a gala day, as all over Conti- 
 nental Europe. Enter any village of our state 
 upon a Sabbath morning, and as you hear the 
 church bells, amid hushed stillness all around, call- 
 ing to worship, you will feel that we revere God's 
 day ; enter the unpretending church and you will 
 feel that we revere God. 
 
 In narrower spheres of life the same conclusions 
 hold. Too many young Americans, indeed, in appear- 
 ance, show want of respect for age, and neglect of 
 domestic ties. Yet do we not so judge wrongly 
 sometimes, because we have fixed upon certain 
 modes as the only modes of reverential expression } 
 And do we not often mistake a repugnance for 
 shams, for disrespect } Is there a land where hon- 
 est gray hairs receive more tokens of practical re- 
 gard 'i Do they not, on all our thoroughfares and 
 marts, receive due meed of consideration, not ex- 
 torted by custom, but granted from the heart } 
 While there is here little of that clinging attach- 
 ment to place, which is found in older countries ; 
 there exists a deep love for the affections and asso- 
 ciations and comforts, which are the essence of 
 home. Sometimes, indeed, father and mother are 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86g. 179 
 
 rudely shoved aside, without honor of thought or 
 word ; there is this danger in the free, independ- 
 ent culture of our youth, self-poised, self-reliant. 
 But great as is the evil, it is too often magnified. 
 Here, as elsewhere, in times of sorrow and need, 
 parents find strong arms to lean upon, and loving 
 hearts to comfort them ; and as many homes here, 
 as elsewhere, are reared by filial hands, to cover the 
 heads of aged loved ones. 
 
 As between man and man, it is said, we pay no 
 respect to persons. It may be so. But we honor 
 labor and worth ; we honor the golden speech of 
 the orator ; the modest learning of the true philos- 
 opher ; the wise words of the pious preacher ; the 
 unassuming strength of tried and tested virtue ; 
 we honor true bravery, skill, endurance, foresight ; 
 we honor all these, and pay our homage with a 
 heartiness which proves it genuine. La Fayette, 
 returning to view the scenes of his early pilgrimage 
 for freedom ; Dickens, the representative of that 
 English literature in which we claim lot and share; 
 Kossuth, the leader of a brave people crushed in a 
 desperate struggle for liberty ; all these, surely our 
 nation honored. Our own gifted and great, while 
 we do not accept their thoughts as our thoughts ; 
 yet we honor them and their memories. Washing- 
 ton and his compeers of the Revolution are as truly 
 revered as if in marble piles ; Henry Clay is yet 
 well-nigh worshiped by Kentuckians ; New Eng- 
 
i8o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 land flushes with pride of Webster ; and but four 
 years since, a nation in tears, city and village and 
 hamlet and farm, offered reverence, as the bier of 
 Lincoln passed, from the banks of the Potomac, to 
 the prairies of Illinois. 
 
 Yet we build few monuments. But we name our 
 towns and children and lyceums and mountains, 
 after our great men. Only here and there a col- 
 umn rises, half complete, perhaps, to tell posterity 
 their fame. Yet it is not the reverence which is 
 lacking, but those forms of expression to which older 
 civilizations have given rise. The business of our 
 national, as of our individual life, has been too 
 much a struggle. We have too lately made firm our 
 revered idea of universal brotherhood in universal 
 freedom, for us to play very much with the elegant 
 arts. But will they not all come in good time ; and 
 then, will not the American reverence for ideas, lift 
 our American art into higher spirituality and nobler 
 beauty, than the world has known 1 
 
 Sincerity in essence, simplicity of expression, are 
 the prominent characteristics of American rever- 
 ence. It is our very sincerity which utterly refuses 
 to be trammeled by mere forms. We will not wor- 
 ship shams. In our search for truth, we are so 
 eager that we take strange paths, may be, but most 
 of us right ourselves, by and by. Many as our hum- 
 bugs are, they rarely live long. European and Orien- 
 tal humbugs live forever. We adopt our creeds, 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86g. i8i 
 
 not for form's, but for truth's sake. We may have 
 many strange behefs ; we have comparatively few 
 merely formal believers. 
 
 This sincerity never courts expression ; true worth 
 is unobtrusive. We do not vaunt our reverence, 
 but rather conceal it until occasion demands ; and 
 then, it is too real for trappings. 
 
 The ideas we revere need no fanciful adornments ; 
 the men we honor are their own best monuments ; 
 the homes we cherish have faithful memorials in 
 our hearts ; the God we worship, and the religion 
 we profess, are too sacred for aught but simple 
 earnestness. 
 
 The effects of this reverence are plain in our 
 national life. Some of them seem evil. Forms 
 are of value ; they contain substance, and, some- 
 times, breaking the form destroys the substance. 
 So young America gets to be rude and wicked ; 
 middle-aged America becomes opinionated and 
 crabbed ; so religion slips away from God's moor- 
 ings and becomes ' ' ism ; " so search for truth 
 becomes scepticism. But these evils are outward 
 and occasional ; are they not also temporary } 
 
 There are good influences of this reverence, 
 which are essential, general, permanent. The 
 power of public opinion is one. Nowhere else 
 has it so tremendous a weight. This, inspired 
 by our reverence for ideas, fought our Civil 
 War ; politicians could not cajole, failure did 
 not dishearten it ; to-day, it demands the full 
 
i82 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 fruits of its victory. Our regard for law is another 
 token and result of our reverence. Our law has 
 little paraphernalia, periwigs and maces, and 
 but few myrmidons ; but break it, and see how its 
 arms reach over the continent. The position of 
 woman, the diffusion of knowledge, the wonders of 
 our inventive skill, are all, both signs and outgrowth 
 of our reverence for ideas. But grandest result of 
 all, this reverence will mould the coming American 
 mind. Our search after truth in perfection, with 
 our glorious idea of freedom, is working out a grand 
 composite character, bold, free, persistive, impress- 
 ible, and with wonderful power of adaptation. 
 This power of adaptation springs directly from our 
 reverence for ideas, and consequent freedom from 
 form. What matters the garb, when we revere 
 the heart ; what the name, when we seek the 
 essence.^ 
 
 We conclude then, that granting the formal alle- 
 gations of our critics, and regretting the truth of 
 many of their statements ; we, yet, cannot plead 
 guilty to utter lack of reverence in our American 
 character. 
 
 There is not, indeed, reverence for those objects 
 which the vrorld has mainly revered, or those forms 
 of expression sanctioned b}' centuries of use ; but 
 there is a deep, earnest reverence for the .great ideas 
 which mould our history and life ; for God and re- 
 ligion; for worth of mind and heart; for pure affec- 
 
EXHIBITION OF i86g. 183 
 
 tion and its abiding home. There is not form or 
 ceremony, there is simple, sincere earnestness ; 
 and, withal, we claim that this, our American rever- 
 ence, grasping thoughts, rather than things, is 
 noblest of all, as closest to that "which is unseen 
 and eternal." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1870. 
 
 " The Character and Causes of the Influence of New Eng- 
 land in the United States," 
 
 Charles Elmer Allison, 
 
 Sheldon William Swaney. 
 "The Greatness and Littleness of Eminent Men," 
 
 William Henry DeShon. 
 "The Effect of a Belief in an Endless Life upon Education," 
 
 Henry Allyn Frink. 
 "The Heroism of the Naturalist," 
 
 James Hart Hoadley. 
 "Chinese and American Civilization," 
 
 Frederick Augustus Sackett. 
 "The Conservative Influence of the Legal Profession." 
 
 THE HEROISM OF THE NATURALIST. 
 
 BY JAMES H. hoadley. 
 
 WHO that has read Prescott's ' ' Conquest of 
 Mexico," has not exclaimed as he finished 
 the story, '* heroic?" It has been generally allowed 
 that the man who subjugated an empire which had 
 lasted for three centuries, with a handful of Castil- 
 ian soldiers, was a hero. If now we analyze the 
 heroism of Hernando Cortez, we find underlying it 
 a sublime faith. He believed in the success of his 
 undertaking, and so he burns his ships, and turns 
 from the ocean behind to the untried enemy before 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1870. 185 
 
 him. Courage and persistency are the marked 
 characteristics of that march to the capital : a 
 courage that humbled the hitherto impregnable 
 Republic of Tlascala ; routed the combined armies 
 in the plain of Otumba ; and captured the king in 
 his own palace : a persistency that was undaunted 
 by the treachery of the natives ; the mutiny of his 
 own soldiers ; and the hostility of Charles V. 
 Such is the heroism of the soldier ; a type most 
 prominent in history, and most honored by the 
 world. 
 
 Apply this to the naturalist. Has he the faith, 
 the courage and the persistency that makes the 
 hero of the battle-field } 
 
 Let example answer example. Is not Alexander 
 Humboldt penetrating the undiscovered regions of 
 the Amazon and Orinoco, pressing his way through 
 dense and unknown forests, and climbing the rug- 
 ged mxountain peaks of the Andes, led by a heroic 
 faith .? He believed in a cosmos, and his faith 
 will not let him rest until it has unfolded the mys- 
 teries of that cosmos. If courage and persistency 
 are the tests, who will not say that the life of John 
 James Audubon was heroic } History does not 
 afford a nobler example of sublime courage and 
 untiring energy. *' For more than sixty years," we 
 are told, *'he followed with a religious devotion, 
 a beautiful and elevated pursuit. In all climes, and 
 in all weathers ; scorched by burning suns ; drenched 
 13 
 
1 86 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 by piercing rains ; frozen by the fiercest colds ; in 
 perils, in difficulties and in doubts, he faithfully 
 kept on his path." Like the hero of Italy, he had 
 "rather take one step forward and die, than one 
 step backward and live." 
 
 The naturalist may indeed claim the homage due 
 those qualities which go to make the heroic soldier ; 
 but there is a higher type of heroism. Patience 
 and self-sacrifice are indispensable to the true hero. 
 Thirst for power has been the motor of most battle- 
 fields ; and pride, impatience and selfishness, have 
 characterized most conquerors. A truer heroism 
 labors not for itself, but others ; it does not seek 
 applause ; it is content to wait with patience for its 
 exaltation and reward. The child who carried 
 draughts of water to the wounded and dying at 
 Inkerman, showed a nobler heroism than the chief- 
 tain who w'on the Crimea. So the devotion of the 
 humble missionary, leaving the house of his love to 
 tell the story of the cross beyond the sea, and 
 laboring for years perhaps, in patience, amid dis- 
 couragement and suffering, before one indication of 
 success appears, is a type of heroism to which mere 
 physical courage can never attain. And here again, 
 the naturalist has fairly earned the title of hero. 
 
 In geology, botany, zoology, in every department 
 of natural science, great names crowd upon us. 
 Names of those who have sacrificed position, 
 wealth, friends, comfort and even life itself with 
 
EXHIBITION OF rSjo. 187 
 
 unparalleled devotion. Names of those who 
 patiently endured hunger, thirst, heat, cold, disap- 
 pointment, opposition, weariness, sickness, peril, 
 privation of every kind, undismayed by delay and 
 undaunted by defeat. What sought these men for 
 themselves t Honor } They had left it ! Fame } 
 They had renounced it ! Wealth } They had 
 despised it ! 
 
 Honor came indeed to some. A few great names 
 won the admiration of the world. Men wrote their 
 lives ; and nations, proud of the record, preserved 
 their memory in song and chronicle and marble. 
 But, alas ! the greater number died unknown. 
 Many never came back from their adventurous wan- 
 derings ; and some returned enfeebled and crippled 
 to die in their native land. Ye are at rest, O hero- 
 martyrs in the cause of science! Sleep on in your 
 unknown homes, with icebergs for your monuments, 
 with the soft seaweed for your pillows, with desert 
 sands for your covering. Your names we have 
 never heard ; but we shall see you in that vast 
 assembly where every man's vv^ork shall be revealed. 
 
 We have seen that the naturalist possesses all the 
 elements of the heroic spirit. He enters on his 
 mission with a sublime faith in the object of his 
 pursuit. In courage and persistiveness he is not 
 surpassed by the soldier. While by patience and 
 self-sacrifice he establishes his claim to heroism 
 in its nobler form. But we can not assign the 
 
1 88 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 naturalist his place among the heroes, without con- 
 sidering the character, the difficulties and the 
 results of his work. 
 
 The sphere in which the naturalist labors, is the 
 sphere of mind. True, there is much that is phys- 
 ical in it. He breaks the rocks ; he examines the 
 flowers ; he collects the shells ; but these are only 
 means to an end ; they are the materials upon 
 which he builds a mental structure. 
 
 As when a child, gathering in its lap the colored 
 blocks its father gave it, learns to put the bits of 
 wood together and spell out the words ; so the 
 naturalist brings into his workshop his alphabet 
 blocks, stones, minerals and shells, plants, insects 
 and animals. The letters are many shaped. Each 
 kingdom speaks a dialect. Yet the language of 
 nature is one and harmonious. To ascertain that 
 harmony, to read that language, is his work. 
 
 No mean labor this ; it requires intellect of the 
 highest order. Profound investigation, thorough 
 analysis, and careful and correct synthesis, are 
 necessary to solve the problem. But the men who 
 undertook it were worthy of their task. With the 
 same heroic devotion with which they ransacked 
 the globe for data, they classified and systematized 
 their discoveries. 
 
 Day after day Hugh Miller labored on with un- 
 tiring zeal in the completion of his ' ' Testimony of 
 the Rocks. " Hours after midnight, the light glim- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1870. 189 
 
 mered through the windows of his study, which 
 within the same month was to witness the close of 
 the volumes, and the close of the author's life. 
 
 We have spoken of Humboldt's faith in nature, 
 and the ardor with which he entered her service. 
 Let us again recall him. He is no longer a young 
 enthusiast. Eighty years have silvered his hair, 
 and wasted his strength ; but the heroism of the old 
 man surpasses that of the boy. Already his pub- 
 lished works are a library in themselves ; but still 
 behold him, with unwearied energy, devoting his 
 declining days to the completion of that ' ' Cosmos " 
 which is to stand in the first rank of literature. 
 
 Animated by the same indefatigable spirit, Cuvier 
 wrought out his system of classifying animals and 
 plants. And to-day our own Agassiz, '' upon whom 
 the mantle of Cuvier seems to have fallen," is de- 
 veloping and unfolding the system still further, with 
 an intellectual acumen which has challenged the 
 prizes of two continents. 
 
 The heroism of the naturalist, however, appears 
 not only in the character of his work, but in the 
 peculiar difficulties with which he contends. These 
 arise partly from his isolated condition, and partly 
 from the nature of the natural sciences. 
 
 It is true, as almost every writer has remarked, 
 that '* man is a social being." It is also true, that 
 he is largely indebted for heroic action to the pres- 
 ence and encouragement of his fellow man. He is 
 
1 90 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 indeed, to a certain extent, the creature of circum- 
 stances, for a sublime occasion has made heroes of 
 the veriest cowards. Now, it must be admitted, 
 that he who is independent of men and circum- 
 stances ; who does not fail for, but makes occasions ; 
 in short, who carries his inspiration in his own soul, 
 is the greatest hero. And this is precisely the dif- 
 ference between the soldier and the naturalist. 
 
 Marshal Ney, leading the charge at Waterloo ; 
 under the eye of the emperor ; in front of two 
 armies ; with the gaze of all Europe turned toward 
 that scene, exhibits heroism of a very different type 
 from that of Dr. Livingstone meeting the wild beasts 
 in the solitude of an African forest. 
 
 The soldier is inspired by the array of armies ; 
 the glitter of weapons ; the roar of cannon ; the 
 strains of martial music, and all ' ' the pomp and 
 circumstance of war." Not so with the naturalist. 
 He goes forth alone to win his battles ; alone he 
 encounters danger ; alone he penetrates the arcana 
 of nature ; alone he works out through weary hours 
 the plan of the universe. Difficulties arising from 
 the very nature of the natural sciences, baffle the 
 student at almost every step. 
 
 Natural science rests upon investigation, testi- 
 mony and experience ; but these are not invariable. 
 Investigation has not been completed. Testimony 
 does not always agree. Experience varies. And 
 so previous generalizations are sometimes contra- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1876, 1 9 1 
 
 dieted ; old systems invalidated, and new classifi- 
 cations demanded. But the naturalist, undaunted 
 by defeat in one direction, strikes another path. 
 He reexamines, remodels — perchance reconstructs 
 from the beginning. Perplexity does not dis- 
 hearten ; contradiction does not silence ; failure 
 does not intimidate. Failure } He never fails. 
 The heroism that ever returns with fresh courage to 
 the contest, out of failure achieves success and 
 turns defeat to victory. 
 
 But "by their fruits shall ye know them," is the 
 test to which men and systems are to be subjected. 
 Though the naturalist exhibits all courage and en- 
 durance ; though he push his labors into the high- 
 est realms of thought ; though he conquer single 
 handed the greatest difficulties ; aye, though he 
 sacrifice life itself a willing offering ; yet if he leaves 
 no lasting good to benefit mankind, he deserves not 
 in the true sense of the term the epithet of " hero." 
 That is heroism, and that alone, which bears and 
 suffers for the advantage of others. He is a hero, 
 and only he, who falls in the cause of truth. 
 
 But the naturalist shrinks not from the trial ; for 
 it is in the light of this test that his heroism turns 
 into immortal glory. We have said he is the in- 
 terpreter of a language — the unfolder of a plan. 
 That language is a communication from above ; 
 that plan is a divine arrangement. Fired with a 
 nobler ambition than that of him who said, ' ' I 
 
192 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 paint for immortality ;" he portrays upon the can- 
 vas of the human mind, which is itself immortal, 
 not his own colors, but the truths of a self-existent 
 and eternal Master. 
 
 To prove from the testimony of the universe, 
 the existence and personality of the Supreme ; to 
 exhibit His character and attributes ; to show the 
 wisdom and goodness of His government — this is 
 the work of the naturalist — this the fruit of his 
 heroism. Compare it with the grandest achieve- 
 ments of man. Who will listen in the ages to 
 come, to a recital of Caesar's campaigns 1 There 
 may come a time in the dim future when the plays 
 of Shakspeare, and all the brilliant achievements 
 of genius in the past, will be forgotten. But the 
 work of the naturalist will remain. Those prob- 
 lems which he has already solved, and those upon 
 which he is still heroically toiling, will have a fresh- 
 ness and an interest throughout eternity ; for the 
 contemplation of God in His creation and govern- 
 ment will be forever our employ. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1871. 
 
 "wSir William Hamilton and His Contributions to Philos- 
 ophy," 
 
 Robert Lucky Bachman. 
 "The Capture of Constantinople by the Turks," 
 
 Elbert Wilmot Cummins, 
 
 Charles Judson Palmer. 
 " Fiction as a Means of Inculcating Religious Truth," 
 
 John Edward Frost. 
 "The Nature of Shakspeare's Dramatic Superiority," 
 
 Albert Cossit Phillips. 
 "The Career of Napoleon III.," 
 
 Charles Luke Stone. 
 "The Future of Romanism." 
 
 SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON AND HIS CONTRIBUTIONS 
 TO PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 BY ROBERT L. BACHMAN. 
 
 IN the Senate Hall of the Edinburgh University 
 there is a new, well-chiselled bust. The face 
 is strong, sober, thoughtful. The eyes are large, 
 with heavy, massive brows. The head is of finest 
 Grecian mould, noble looking, classical. It is the 
 true, marble likeness of Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 Born on the eve of great political events, edu- 
 cated when the Jacobin's cry of *'No God, no im- 
 mortality" had just ceased its reign of terror be- 
 
194 T^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 yond the Channel ; ushered into manhood when 
 Napoleon I. made Europe tremble with the tread 
 of armies, he nobly espoused the highest interests 
 of humanity. For it he acted a hero's part, not on 
 the field of battle, but in the solitude of the closet. 
 There he was a devotee, not to ambition, but to 
 learning ; a master, not of armies, but of thoughts. 
 
 Forty years the world has known him, wondered 
 at his erudition, acknowledged his gigantic intellect 
 and judged of its achievements. But it has known 
 him only in his intellectual greatness and his intel- 
 lectual coldness. 
 
 A traveler, passing over the Cumberland moun- 
 tains, saw the battle-renowned Lookout, towering 
 grand, lofty, but grim against the sky. It was 
 bordered round with frowning, God-built battle- 
 ments. Its sides were steep, rugged, forbidding. 
 Approaching it, he found it was not all as in the 
 distance seemed. From beneath its mossy cliffs, 
 from among its tangled brakes, and along its deep 
 ravines, pure springs and streams flowed, beautiful, 
 musical, life-giving. Its summit, lofty and cloud- 
 capped, was crowned with nature's own garlands ; 
 the very home of beauty, love and learning. 
 
 So, passing in review the many scholars and 
 philosophers of modern times, we see Sir William 
 Hamilton, the intellectual giant, towering far above 
 them all. In the distance, he appears as the ab- 
 stract thinker, merciless critic, disgusting egotist 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1871. 195 
 
 and dangerous opponent. But when we approach 
 and become more intimate with him, a glorious 
 transformation takes place. What was cold and 
 repulsive, becomes warm and attractive. What 
 was angular and affected, rounds off into beauty and 
 sincerity. Fear changes to admiration, respect to 
 love. The great philosopher becomes the good 
 man. 
 
 His social, private and public life exhibit the no- 
 bility of his character, the true virtues of his heart 
 and the grand simplicity of his nature. 
 
 In society he was the modest, retiring gentleman, 
 more a listener than a talker. But when the sub- 
 ject and occasion demanded, he manifested such 
 enthusiasm, judgment, learning and conversational 
 power as to at once rank him the ' ' Great Lion " of 
 the literary circle. 
 
 Discussion was his delight. In it he was a very 
 *'Anak," so skillfully arranging arguments and so 
 strongly supporting them by authority, as to be 
 almost invincible. With all his polemical power, 
 he rarely descended to the vindictive, the personal. 
 He fought error and ignorance, not men. 
 
 His friends never felt the greatness of his mind, 
 but they both knew and felt the goodness of his 
 heart. The inexperienced students of Glasgow and 
 the learned book-searchers in the old Advocate's 
 library, alike experienced his aid and kindness. 
 The love and admiration he won from his numerous 
 
196 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 associates, was only second to that of his bosom 
 friends of Oxford days, Alexander Scott and John 
 Lockhart. 
 
 Possessed of such a generous disposition, so 
 seemingly unconscious of his own superiority and 
 so willing to assist those in distress, he may justly 
 be called the ''golden-hearted man." 
 
 Great as was his attachment to society, it could 
 not usurp his love for home. To him it was the 
 dearest of earthly abodes, the repository of his 
 greatest joys. Nor was he thought of there as the 
 untiring student, learned scholar, or profound rea- 
 soner, but only as the kind husband and loving 
 father. He discussed domestic questions with as 
 much zeal and earnestness as the greatest philo- 
 sophical problems. And whether searching the 
 records of the past, or refuting theories of the 
 present, he ever found time to write his beloved 
 soldier boy, and say a hearty '' God bless you." 
 
 His public life was one of singular purity. It 
 was always characterized by faithfulness, honesty 
 of purpose, and devotion to dut}^ And while 
 nobleness and conscientiousness of soul lifted him 
 far above petty ambitions, he possessed an earnest 
 desire to bless the world by being one of its leaders 
 in learning and thought. Energy and persever- 
 ance brought gratification to this desire, when the 
 fame of his achievements came sounding, not only 
 from the mountains of Scotland, but from the two 
 hemispheres of the world. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 187 1. 1 9 7 
 
 Years brought to him honors and sorrows 
 strangely blended, but detracted nothing from his 
 great life aim. Neither pecuniary distress, nor the 
 paralytic stroke that shattered his powerful body, 
 could break his manly spirit, or weaken his noble 
 nature. 
 
 * ' Time, which matures the intellectual part, 
 Had tinged the hairs with gray, but left untouched the heart. " 
 
 The man seems truly great, when we consider 
 that in all his grappling with profound, metaphysi- 
 cal problems and in all the sober, candid conclusions 
 to which he came, his Christian faith wavered not. 
 While many philosophers were dashed on the 
 dangerous rocks of scepticism and pantheism, he 
 securely anchored to the ' ' Rock of Ages. " 
 
 To understand what Sir William Hamilton con- 
 tributed to philosophy, it is necessary to briefly 
 notice its history and condition before his time. 
 
 The religious convulsion that began in the six- 
 teenth century, not only shook the death grip of 
 popery from the church, but released the humun 
 mind from its long bondage, and bade it go, do ser- 
 vice in the field of speculation. Willingly did it 
 obey ; and at once arraigned before a bar of severest 
 criticism all theological and scientific authority; 
 boldly cast down Aristotle, worshiped for tv/o 
 thousand years; and made nature and the Bible, 
 companion, universal text-books. 
 
 This ushered in the age of Francis Bacon, the 
 
1 98 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 father of inductive philosophy. His method, 
 fruitful of good results in the study of matter, was 
 first applied to the study of mind by Thomas 
 Hobbes, and soon plunged him into the maelstrom 
 of materalism and fatalism. 
 
 Then came the good and great John Locke, the 
 most illustrious sensationist, marking one of the 
 greatest eras in English philosophy. 
 
 Following him, was a reformer in Bishop Berkeley, 
 the chief of idealists. He saw nothing but God 
 and truth as beautiful, unchanging, never-dying. 
 
 After him sprang into being the philosophical and 
 religious scepticism of David Hume ; the one to be 
 applauded, the other deplored. One aroused men 
 from their lethargy, exposed fatal errors and 
 brought forward new problems. The other con- 
 fused his great mind, shattered all his beliefs and 
 left his soul drifting, without the anchor of hope, 
 on the restless ocean of doubt. 
 
 Orthodox, metaphysical Scotland could not long 
 brook such philosophy. The foundations of truth 
 were shaken, reason dethroned and speculation 
 paralyzed. There must be a change. And soon it 
 came in the genius and originality of Thomas Reid, 
 followed by the grace and eloquence of Dugald 
 Stewart. One bold stroke of immediate percep- 
 tion and the scepticism of Hume was annihilated. 
 
 Descartes, contemporary with Bacon, gave to the 
 Continent deductive philosophy, in his ''Cogito, 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1871. 199 
 
 ergo sum," and hypothesis of "Occasional Causes." 
 This became complete pantheism in the hands of 
 Benedict Spinoza. But when the independent 
 Leibnitz, with his theory of preestablished harmony 
 appeared, Spinoza's pantheism vanished. The 
 eighteenth century closed with the philosophy of 
 Kant ; and the nineteenth began with his gifted 
 follower and disciple, Fichte. Then came the lofty 
 idealism of Schelling and Hegel ; and ' ' to German 
 metaphysicians nothing seemed left but the empire 
 of the air." But had philosophy reached its con- 
 summation } Must speculation cease } " No," said 
 Cousin. And with a master's skill, he grouped his 
 powerful theory of eclecticism, boldly transcended 
 himself, explored the region of the absolute, and 
 saw God in thought and consciousness. 
 
 Thus for more than two hundred years, the battle- 
 field of speculation had resounded with the clash of 
 profoundest philosophical opinions. Here material- 
 ism conquers ; there idealism. Now is heard the 
 shout of scepticism, then the cry of realism. At 
 last the field is won, and the world subject to the 
 absolute. 
 
 The lull of peace had scarcely come, when a new 
 philosopher appeared, bearing a banner with this 
 strange device, "All human thought is condi- 
 tioned." The world was astounded and again rang 
 with conflict, as he boldly attacked the absolute, 
 and denied its supporter the power to transcend 
 
200 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 himself and see God in purity and essence. "To 
 think, " said he ''is to condition." " As the grey- 
 hound cannot outstrip his shadow, nor the eagle 
 outsoar the atmosphere in which he floats and by 
 which he is supported, so the mind cannot transcend 
 that sphere of limitation within and through which 
 exclusively the possibility of thought is realized." 
 By great learning, power of argument and incisive 
 criticism, he hewed down the bridge spanning the 
 gulf between ontology and psychology ; left the 
 absolute on the hither side ; and made pantheism 
 impossible. Devout and sincere, shut up between 
 two inconceivables, seeing everywhere nothing but 
 mystery and mental incapacity, he yielded to a sub- 
 lime Christian faith and believed what he could not 
 know. He said we can know God in part only, not 
 as absolute, and that this partial knowledge is suffi- 
 cient for our present state of existence. He con- 
 sidered his doctrine of the conditioned compatible 
 with the purest theology and promotive of the 
 greatest good. While this admits of doubt, we are 
 compelled to acknowledge its unequaled power, its 
 mighty influence on modern thought, and its 
 appearance as marking one of the most memorable 
 eras in the history of philosophy. So profound 
 was it that Cousin declared, not fifty men in Eng- 
 land were competent to understand it. 
 
 Following this contribution, came his article on 
 perception. Already had he proclaimed his nega- 
 
EXHIBIT ION OF 1871. 201 
 
 live philosophy, the Hmitation of thought. Now 
 came his positive philosophy, the relativity of knowl- 
 edge. By the one, he attacked Cousin and pan- 
 theism ; by the other Brown and idealism. 
 
 He so completely appropria,ted and thoroughly 
 developed Reid's obscure philosophy, as to give it a 
 meaning, force and character never before possessed. 
 He assumed consciousness as the basis of all men- 
 tal phenomena ; established its duality ; defined 
 the facts to which it would testify ; and declared 
 that only on its authority must we believe or dis- 
 believe. 
 
 By this scholarly analysis, he opened up a broad 
 road between the internal and external world ; 
 brought philosophy and common sense to a level ; 
 banished idealism ; did service to religion by firmly 
 establishing primary beliefs ; made the Scottish 
 school world renowned, and himself the most illus- 
 trious realist in history. 
 
 Then came his masterpiece on logic ; and Dr. 
 Whately seemed a child in the grasp of a giant. 
 He reformed the science, distinguished it from all 
 others and placed it on firm, abiding principles. 
 
 These three contributions supplied a great want 
 in the thinking world, and stand enduring monu- 
 ments to their authors genius, learning and in- 
 tegrity. 
 
 But Sir William Hamilton's greatest contribution 
 to mental science was made in the year 1836, when, 
 14 
 
202 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 as professor in the Edinburgh University he gave 
 himself to philosophy. Then, for twenty years, he 
 impressed, inspired and moulded the minds of his 
 hearers ; opened up to them new fields of thought ; 
 swept away old errors ; enthroned new truths ; and 
 reformed the metaphysics of Scotland. 
 
 For the first time ancient and modern philosophy 
 found a true exponent. Bacon and Descartes had 
 disdained all authority, banished their predecessors 
 and given their own thoughts to the world. Locke, 
 Reid, Stewart and Brown were woefully deficient 
 in history and taught their followers to despise the 
 research of all past philosophers. It was for Sir 
 William Hamilton to bring the thinkers of the 
 "long ago," not into authority, but into knowl- 
 edge ; to link the past with the present ; and save 
 from oblivion most valuable information. 
 
 Like the heroic Livingstone, plunging into the 
 forests and jungles of Africa in search of the Nile's 
 beginning, he went far beyond the sight of men 
 among the volumes of the fathers and schoolmen ; 
 explored the fields of medicine, jurisprudence and 
 physical science ; traversed the most intricate laby- 
 rinths of forgotten logic ; and climbed the most 
 difficult heights of speculation, all in quest of truth 
 and knowledge. 
 
 To know that he thus became possessed of 
 choicest philosophical facts and opinions, that he 
 could survey the whole world of literature with as 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1871. - 203 
 
 much ease and exactness as our gifted Peters sweeps 
 the starry heavens in search of Ate and Iphigenia, 
 we may well regret that he did not give a contri- 
 bution in the history of philosophy. But this 
 regret pales to insignificance, when we remember 
 the historic spirit he awakened, the method of in- 
 quiry he instituted, the impetus he gave to modern 
 thought ; how he bound together the speculations 
 of Greece, England, Germany and France ; and 
 set the seal of a master's hand on the forming phil- 
 osophy of youthful, practical America. 
 
 Whoever would know what is good, great and 
 ennobling in man, whoever would search after truth 
 and understand mental science, must study and 
 understand the life and philosophy of Sir William 
 Hamilton. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 
 
 " Marcus TtiUius Cicero," 
 
 John Hampton Hopkins. 
 "The Teutonic and Gallic Characters as Illustrated by Their 
 History," 
 
 Arthur Stephen Hoyt. 
 "The Use of the Imagination in Science," 
 
 George Frederick Lyon. 
 "Commerce: Its Growth and Influence," 
 
 Brainard Gardner Smith. 
 "The Influence of Dramatic Poetry," 
 
 Melancthon Wooi.sey Stryker. 
 "Jewish Civilization in the Age of Solomon," 
 
 Jacob Franklyn Tufts. 
 
 COMMERCE: ITS GROWTH AND INFLUENCE. 
 
 BY BRAINARD G. SMITH. 
 
 IN all Greek literature there is no legend more 
 celebrated, none more fruitful as a theme for 
 speculation or poesy than that of the Argonautic 
 expedition. 
 
 Leaving vine-clad Thessaly and their native 
 lands, yielding not to Lemnian blandishments, 
 neither terrified by giants and harpies, nor dis- 
 heartened by adverse winds and tempestuous waves, 
 the heroes of the Argo passed the Cyanean rocks, 
 sailed over an unknown sea, accomplished stupen- 
 dous labors, and secured the Qolden Fleece. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 205 
 
 Embodied in this myth we see a desire that has 
 ever actuated men, born with the race, common to 
 all people, influencing all nations ; the desire to 
 accumulate wealth. Controlled by the religion, 
 the government, the situation, or the genius of a 
 people, it has assumed various forms among differ- 
 ent nations. Its earliest and most common form, 
 when men were rude, was plunder and piracy. 
 The acquisition of property taught its value ; then 
 came laws in defence of its rights, and plunder 
 became trade, piracy commerce. 
 
 It is our province to consider the growth and 
 influence of commerce. 
 
 A desire for the wealth of the East, the silks of 
 China, the jewels of India, the spices of Arabia — 
 luxuries, not necessities — first gave an impulse to 
 commerce. And so, through the straits of Ormus, 
 through the Persian Gulf, up the Euphrates, across 
 Chaldea's plains rolled the tide of trade. It 
 enriched Babylon, made Palmyra a queenly city in 
 a dreary desert, and poured its treasures into Syrian 
 and Tyrian coffers. 
 
 *' Situated at the entry of the sea," Tyre grasped 
 this commerce and became ' ' a merchant for the 
 people of many isles." Phoenician galleys brought 
 the gold of Ophir, the silver and ivory of Tar- 
 shish to Solomon ; and Phoenician navigators con- 
 ducted Necho's triremes around the coast of Africa. 
 Creeping along the shores, or guided by the stars. 
 
2o6 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 these fearless sailors carried Phoenician commerce 
 westward, and founded Carthage ; thence into 
 Spain, rich in silver and corn and wine ; then pass- 
 ing the gates of Gades, sailed northward to the 
 Baltic. 
 
 By the Macedonian conquests and the destruc- 
 tion of Tyre, the channel of commerce was turned 
 from the Persian to the Arabian Gulf ; from Asia 
 into Africa. Through Alexandria passed the treas- 
 ures of the East, and Carthage was for ages the 
 great commercial seaport of the world. 
 
 Rome despised commerce. She was a nation of 
 soldiers. But when her legions had conquered the 
 world, when Greece and Egypt and Carthage were 
 her provinces, she then protected the industry she 
 scorned, and commerce flourished. Yet Rome fell. 
 Attila and Alaric with their barbaric hordes, swept 
 down upon the imperial city, and the light of civili- 
 zation was extinguished. Nations united by Roman 
 power were divided ; the lawless exactions of the 
 feudal system precluded all trade, and pirates 
 drove commerce from the seas. 
 
 But armies cannot conquer, oppression cannot 
 destroy the spirit of commerce. It may, indeed, be 
 crushed, but it will rise again, and with renewed 
 vigor assert its supremacy. The Italians were now 
 the first to feel this power. Taking advantage of 
 the peace that attended the reign of Charlemagne, 
 they effected and maintained a commercial inter- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 2 o 7 
 
 course with Constantinople, with the seaports of 
 Syria, and with Alexandria, and European commerce 
 was firmly established. 
 
 It remained, however, for the Crusades to give to 
 it its grand impulse. By uniting men in one great 
 cause, by leading multitudes from every corner of 
 Europe, they opened a way for Lombard merchants 
 to introduce among the nations of the north, not 
 only the rich productions of Italian labor and skill, 
 but, what were more valuable, Italian ideas. 
 
 And now we see commerce advancing with rapid 
 pace ; extending its influence in ever widening 
 circles. Holland becomes the naval depot of 
 Europe. A new spirit of industry is excited in the 
 Netherlands, and Flanders grows opulent through 
 her trade in woolens. Across the waters England 
 sees these vast results. Under the wise guidance 
 of Edward III. she formiS a confederacy with the 
 continental states, and aided by Flemish artisans 
 introduces manufactories. Encouraged alike by 
 the wisdom, the avarice and the vanity of English 
 rulers, the spirit of commerce becomes the control- 
 ling spirit of England. 
 
 In the fifteenth century the practical application 
 of the magnetic needle causes a revolution in the 
 commercial world. Portugal and Spain enter the 
 field and demand a share in the spoils of the East. 
 To the south sails Vasco da Gama, rounds the 
 southern extremity of Africa, takes good hope that 
 
2o8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 he shall reach India, and thus turns the course of 
 commerce from the Red Sea and the Mediterranean 
 to the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic. Westward 
 sails Columbus and a new world reveals its treasures 
 to wondering Europe. Spain, Holland and Eng- 
 land rush to secure the prize, and the spirit of 
 commerce is abroad in America. 
 
 Henceforward we see commerce become almost 
 universal ; in Spain rise to grandeur till crushed 
 by the tyranny of Philip III ; in Holland sweep 
 the seas ; in England rule the main, subsidize 
 Europe, colonize all continents ; and in our own 
 land grow with wonderful rapidity. It extends all 
 along our seaboard, through our chain of lakes, 
 down our rapid rivers ; piercing mountains, crossing 
 prairies, ever growing, ever extending, until the 
 stars and stripes float from American merchantmen 
 in every port, on every sea. 
 
 Such the growth of commerce. It now remains 
 to ascertain its influence. 
 
 Commerce is civilizing. Its very germ is an 
 acknowledgment of a diversity of powers in nature 
 and men. The recognition of an interlocking of 
 human interests, whereby, no one being complete, 
 each one furnishes to the other. Thus it has 
 founded and blessed a thousand cities by the sound- 
 ing sea ; has stretched the solid pomp of dock and 
 warehouse and mast along a hundred riversides ; 
 has guided a myriad caravans to green oases, there 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 209 
 
 to rear abodes of luxurious culture. It has roused 
 to useful industry energies else spent in war, or 
 chase, or loitering idleness. Creating cravings 
 for conveniences, for culture, and for luxuries, it has 
 put in operation countless agencies to sate them ; 
 fostering and encouraging invention and skill, bear- 
 ing arts and sciences everywhere. Quickening 
 minds, brightening brains, it effects what the love 
 of knowledge suggests. Dispelling prejudices, 
 appeasing animosities, refining and elevating, it is 
 the Gulf Stream of civilization ; doing for progres- 
 sive humanity what this mighty current does for 
 the ocean world. 
 
 The history of Italy verifies these assertions. 
 Through the gloom of the dark ages she appears 
 to us dismembered, torn by dissensions and petty 
 wars among her bandit barons. ' ' Every man's 
 hand is against his neighbor." Laws unknown, 
 useful arts neglected, luxuries despised, she lies 
 steeped in ignorance and brutality, a plague-spot 
 upon the fairest portion of Europe. What power 
 potent for her cure } Northward the spirit of com- 
 merce is advancing. It reaches Italy ; she feels its 
 heathful influence, rouses from her lethargy and 
 moves on in a new career of honor and glory. 
 Dismembered states are reunited, wars cease, manu- 
 factures and the arts flourish, literature revives, law 
 and order prevail. Milan and Pisa and Genoa are 
 
2 1 o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 regal in power and splendor, and Venice becomes 
 
 "A ruler of the waters and their powers. 
 The exhaustless East 
 Pours in her lap all gems in sparkling showers ; 
 In purple is she robed, and of her feast 
 Monarchs partake, and deem their dignity increased." 
 
 Commerce fosters the spirit of liberty and equal- 
 ity ; has ever been the companion and champion 
 of freedom. By its influence were swept away the 
 false distinctions, the oppression and savage slavery 
 of the feudal system. Surrounded by plundering 
 nobles and stupid serfs, from the marshes of Holland 
 rose the free cities of the Hauseatic League, 
 ''whose merchants were princes, whose traffickers 
 the honorable of the earth." 
 
 Hamburg and Lubeck and their sister cities 
 demonstrated to the world that free confederacies, 
 the result of intelligent cooperation, ruled by mer- 
 chants and defended by artisans, were stronger 
 than castles, m_ore powerful than armies of vassals ; 
 that none were better fitted to conduct the affairs 
 of state than they who could well conduct the 
 affairs of trade. 
 
 The influence of commerce destroys the aris- 
 tocracy of birth and rears the aristocracy of brains 
 and consequent wealth. The history of England 
 proves this. Encouraged by avaricious Henry VH. 
 commerce flourished, merchants became a power 
 in the land, and the Commons for the first time 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 2 1 1 
 
 had a voice in the government of the kingdom. 
 This influence is felt no less to-day than then. It 
 is peacefully revolutionizing England. Her mer- 
 chants are her lords, her lords are becoming mer- 
 chants. 
 
 "The Duke of Norfolk deals in salt, 
 
 The Douglas in red herrings ; 
 And guerdoned sword and titled land 
 Are powerless to the notes of hand 
 
 Of Rothschild and the Barrings." 
 
 Commerce gives to a nation two most important 
 elements of stability : wealth to arm and defend ; 
 common interests to unite. 
 
 Greece deified art, philosophy, war, and agricul- 
 ture ; but the teachings of her sages were hostile to 
 commerce. Xenophon doubted its advantages to a 
 state. Plato excluded it from his imaginary 
 Republic. But when the conqueror of the 
 world was forced to besiege the peaceful city of 
 Tyre seven months, he saw and acknowledged the 
 power of commerce as an element of strength. 
 And when the iron hand that had held together the 
 Macedonian states was laid low in death, then was 
 seen in dismembered, mangled Greece, the folly of 
 that policy which despised commerce as an element 
 of unity. 
 
 Guarded by what power did Alexandria remain 
 for nearly two centuries the centre of learning and 
 civilization .? What made Venice for fifteen 
 
2 1 2 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 hundred years a bulwark for Christendom ? United 
 by what interests did the cities of the Netherlands 
 resist so long and successfully the oppression of 
 Philip 11. ? Only when their commerce was wrested 
 from them by the resistless force of progress did 
 their glory and their strength depart. 
 
 Commerce not only arms and defends, but through 
 its attendant institutions its influence is powerful 
 for peace and against rebellion. A nation does not 
 rush blindly into war, whose treasures in manufac- 
 tories and mills, locked up in warehouses, or float- 
 ing in ships, fall an easy prey to an eager enemy, 
 a pillaging soldiery, or the torch of a mob. 
 
 Look at the English, the only purely commercial 
 and manufacturing people on the globe, and com- 
 pare v>7ith them the French or Irish, agricultural in 
 their tendencies. It is the difference between a 
 people of practical wisdom and a people of theories ; 
 between a people united in a common cause of get- 
 ting, where interests of employer and employee are 
 one, and a people who regard their landlords as 
 their natural enemies. In times of the greatest 
 misery, when half-starved English operatives can 
 get but quarter-days' work, even then is violence 
 rarely done. Master and man are alike losers, and 
 the latter knows full well that destruction of factory 
 or machinery makes starvation complete. The 
 same misery in Ireland would cause bread riots all 
 over the island ; in France, a revolution. Do you 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1872. 213 
 
 say that commerce did not protect the United 
 States from a rebelHon ? The South were ever 
 agricultural. They took up arms with the rashness 
 and readiness of a people who know their lands 
 will remain whatever be lost. 
 
 But nations established, freedom gained, a gov- 
 ernment enduring, are little without the religion of 
 the Lord Jesus Christ ; and so we claim as the 
 crowning glory for commerce, its powerful mission- 
 ary influence. It has often been the pioneer, 
 always the aid of Christianity. It spread Greek 
 art and the Greek language so that the Apostles 
 spoke to the world when they spoke their Greek 
 gospels. Since the days when Paul went down to 
 Rome in an Alexandrian merchantman, wherever 
 commerce has spread her sails, there floats the 
 banner of the cross. 
 
 In the interests of commerce the earth is girdled 
 by railways, grooved by canals, netted by the tele- 
 graph. India and the East come four thousand 
 leagues northward through the completed channel 
 of the Pharaohs. Exclusive Celestials open 
 their ports to outside barbarians and people our 
 shores ; the Occident and the Orient clasp hands. 
 By a grand system of division of labor, the business 
 of each nation becomes a specialty, and all mutually 
 dependent. Nations come face to face ; old preju- 
 dices disappear ; religious antipathies are forgotten ; 
 a highway is prepared for the missionary and the 
 
214 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Bible. Bodies so radiate and receive heat that all, 
 giving and taking, come to the same temperature, 
 and still give and take. Commerce will yet do as 
 much for mankind ; for with commerce of material 
 will come commerce of strength and experience and 
 sympathy ; and by and by, there shall be one 
 race, one brotherhood, better than a ' ' federation 
 of the world ; " and war drums and battle flags 
 shall be unused, because there shall be but one 
 cause and one king — God over all. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1873. 
 
 "The Indebtedness of English Literature to the Bible," 
 Olives. Ernesto Branch. 
 
 "The Battle of Gettysburg and its Results," 
 
 RoDOLPHUs Charles Briggs, 
 William DeLoss Love. 
 
 "The Relations of Labor and Capital," 
 
 Edward David Mathews. 
 
 " Representative Orators," 
 
 John William O'Brien. 
 
 " The Unification of Italy," 
 
 Lansing Lee Porter. 
 
 " Cardinal Richelieu." 
 
 THE INDEBTEDNESS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE TO 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 BY OLIVER E. BRANCH. 
 
 ( C ^T^HK Bible," says a distinguished writer, ''is 
 1 the basis not onl}^ of all true belief, but of 
 everything permanent in human thought and action. '' 
 History verifies the truth of this remark. Nowhere 
 is it illustrated with more singular beauty than in 
 the development and growth of English literature. 
 There are three particulars in which English lit- 
 erature stands indebted to the Bible : in language, 
 thought, and spirit. With some writers this indebt- 
 edness is direct and vital ; with others, indirect and 
 
2 1 6 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 accidental ; with all, it is an essential element of 
 excellence, for it emanates from a divine source. 
 
 For three centuries the languages of two opposing 
 civilizations struggled for supremacy in England. 
 Now it was the Saxon, simple, solemn, picturesque, 
 with its dark legends and wild traditions. Now it 
 was the Norman, easy, airy, Romanesque, with its 
 ideas of law, chivalry and honor. Unable to 
 coalesce, these languages, modified by use and mutual 
 contact, at last mingled. The result was a new 
 language, in structure composite, in nature assimi- 
 lative ; yet too v/eak for sustained poetry, too harsh 
 for graceful prose. What was wanting to this 
 wondrous language, born of the gloomy north and 
 nurtured in the south t Vigorous without grace, 
 strong without beauty, in form complete yet want- 
 ing in character, it needed the moulding hand of 
 genius to harmonize its discordant elements and 
 form it for the ends of national thought and speech. 
 Chaucer, Norman in thought, Saxon in style, failed 
 to make the language of the ' ' Canterbury Tales " 
 the language of the people. Not until the Bible, 
 with its Hebrew grandeur of thought and richness 
 of expression, stood translated into the new tongue, 
 did the English language becomic fixed in the heart 
 of the nation. ''England had found her book," 
 and with it a voice. 
 
 The change wrought in language by the transla- 
 tion of the Bible was followed by a total revolution 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1873, 2 1 7 
 
 in thought. It began with WycHffe, when he 
 raised his voice against a corrupt priesthood, threw 
 open the doors of the monasteries, and gave the 
 Bible to the people in their native tongue. Stifled 
 and crushed by the power of papal might, it reap- 
 peared in the sixteenth century, when the human 
 intellect throv/ing off the lethargy of ages, awoke 
 to new life and action. It was the age of printing, 
 and the Bible of Tyndale, known and read every- 
 where, was moving the hearts of men to nobler 
 aims and aspirations. What now to poets were the 
 dim and hollow forms of mythology, the idle deeds 
 of chivalry, when truth, eternal and unchanging 
 from the heart of the Infinite, could lead the Muses 
 up to loftiest heights of poesy and song 1 Why 
 should philosophy longer lose itself in unending 
 speculation, when the light of revelation was pour- 
 ing its radiance through every maze of uncertainty 
 and doubt } Previous to the sixteenth century the 
 cultured thought of England found its most perfect 
 expression in cathedral architecture. The stately 
 piles of York, Salisbury and St. Paul's were some- 
 thing more than' shrines, they were the embodi- 
 ment of the whole aesthetic and devotional thought 
 of the age. In every stone and column of these 
 massive structures, from crypt to choir, from roof 
 to pinnacle, was embalmed some sentiment of 
 adoration which mediaeval darkness could not ob- 
 scure. The light and graceful shaft, the windows, 
 15 
 
2 1 8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 filled with the pictures of saints and martyrs, 
 the heavenward springing arch, the delicate and 
 airy spire, typified the upward, soul-absorbing 
 thoughts of men which language could not express. 
 The awakening spirit of the Reformation and the 
 consequent dissemination of the Bible, revolu- 
 tionized ideas ; and thought, which before had 
 formed the sensuous language of cathedrals, blos- 
 somed into a literature which made classic the age 
 of Elizabeth. 
 
 Through every literature there runs some central 
 idea, a reigning spirit, peculiarly its own. With 
 the Grecian, it is the noble life of heroic paganism ; 
 with the Roman, imperial law and order ; with the 
 Italian, it is the fiery, restless patriotism of Dante. 
 With English literature, this spirit is preeminently 
 Christian. For this it is indebted to the Bible. 
 How it stirred the great soul of Milton and raised 
 him to those epic heights, from which he saw a 
 ' ' Paradise Lost " and a ' * Paradise Regained. " 
 How it haunted the breast of Charles Dickens, 
 never ceasing until he had carried the story of Eng- 
 land's ''friendless poor" into every English home. 
 It animated the marvelous intellect of Francis 
 Bacon, and he organized that system of philosophy 
 which broke the tyranny of scholasticism and set 
 learning free from the thraldom which had bound 
 it for ages. Like a line of light it pierced the gloom 
 of Bedford jail, where sat John Bunyan ; and the 
 
EXHIBIT ION OF 1873. 2 1 9 
 
 Pilgrim's progress ended at last, upon the serene 
 heights of the Delectable Mountains. Sliaks- 
 peare, looking with clearest vision upon every side 
 of human nature, could scarcely have realized his 
 grand conceptions under the cold light of Grecian 
 ethics. But he felt something of that spirit of 
 purity, generous love and fine humanity, whose 
 divine essence the Bible alone contains ; and to-day 
 the world applauds the proud virtue of Claudio's 
 sister, and weeps with Lear at thought of Cordelia's 
 unswerving filial love. 
 
 The waters of the ^Egean bore one summed 
 morning to their shore the stark and motionless 
 form of Shelley. In his pocket was found a book, 
 whose well-worn pages told a story of earnest, 
 thoughtful study. What was that book } Was it 
 Rousseau } Was it Paine .? Was it Voltaire .'* Far 
 from it. It was a Bible, a token of maternal solici- 
 tude and love. A professed atheist, proclaiming to 
 the v/orld his unbelief, he stood entranced with the 
 beauty of Scripture poetry ; and who shall say how 
 it stilled the wild unrest, the passionate longings of 
 his heart, as it upbore the pinions of his strange, 
 mysterious fancy. Byron, dissolute, wayward, 
 misanthropic, found the sources of his deepest in- 
 spiration in the simplicity of Moses' narratives and 
 the sublimity of David's Psalms. How they thrilled 
 his impulsive soul is sung in the "Hebrew Melo- 
 dies, " and written on the burning brow of ' ' Cain. " 
 
a ao THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 But tho Biblo has \c{{ a tairor innMint upon the 
 \\x'w ^o\v^ ot l'aii;Luul than that ro\oaK\l in tho 
 passionate school ot l>yron and ShoUoy. Tho purity 
 of Vouui;- and Hrownini;. tho swootnoss c^f C\->\vper 
 and llonians. tho po^nloss doNotion of Tollook and 
 Wordsworth, tho pathos and tondornoss of Tonny- 
 son. aro but tho rotlox of that onnohhni;- prinoi^^lo 
 of lo\ which thoy found and foh in tho i;os{Hds of 
 Christ. Subtle, ohastonins;', por\asi\o. subduiui;' 
 tho sensuous, sustainin;;' tho spiritual, it lii;htons 
 "The Task," ohoors "Tho Castaway," and lays an 
 •'In Monioriani " upon tho oarly i^ravo of friend- 
 ship. What thoui^h eold rationalism drove Thalia 
 frightened from the shores of h^-anee ! She had yet 
 followers in England. From /ion's hill the\ caught 
 their brightest glimpses of Parnassus ; and n\ingled 
 the waters of Castalia's fountain with the brook 
 
 " — that flowed f£istby the oraclo of e^Jod." 
 
 Not alone in poetry and philosoph)' is the indebt- 
 edness of English literature to the Hible revealed. 
 It pervades the donuiin of science and criticism. 
 It reaches to the sources of forensic achievement. 
 It is the life and soul of pulpit triumph. Newton 
 ponders by day and night over the Old restament and 
 startles the world by his discoveries. Locke studies 
 the g'ospels and the prophets and builds up a sys- 
 tem of logic. Addison pours over the simple stories 
 of Joseph and Ruth, and the S/wtator becomes 
 
JiXJIJJUf ION O/-' 1873. 2 2 1 
 
 a modf:l of classic elegance and grace. Did Chat- 
 ham seek for a type of lofty eloquence ? He found 
 it in the sublimity and grandeur of Isaiah. Did 
 Burke search for an example of profound reasoning 
 and resistless argument t He looked not alone to 
 the oratory of Demosthenes, but to that which 
 made Felix tremble and almost persuaded King 
 Agrippa. Barrow and Jeremy Taylor, Tillotson 
 and Richard Baxter have bequeathed to English 
 literature a priceless legacy ; for the quickening 
 spirit of the Bible animated them and unloosed their 
 tongues for bravest utterance. 
 
 Wherever we turn in English literature, whether 
 to fiction or song, allegory or tragedy, epic poetry 
 or philosophic prose, there the Bible has left its im- 
 press. Here it borrows the language ; there the 
 thought. Here it catches the spirit ; there the 
 style. Here it takes an allusion and points a moral ; 
 there a character and weaves a romance. The wife 
 of Ahab is transfigured in the wife of Macbeth ; the 
 Rebecca of Moses' charming story is the Rebecca 
 of ''Ivanhoe." The virtues which light up the 
 Parables shine through the '' Faery Queen ;" and 
 the shouts which ring in the Messiah of Isaiah are 
 echoed in the ' ' Messiah " of Pope. 
 
 When the monks of Lutterworth had burned the 
 bones of John Wycliffe, they threw his ashes into 
 the little stream that sang and murmured by the 
 good man's door. And the Swift bore them to the 
 
222 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Avon, and the Avon to the Severn, and the Severn 
 to the sea. So the Bible, which Wychffe labored 
 to give the world, has extended its influence through 
 a thousand channels, until it warms and colors the 
 whole vast ocean of English thought. It sustains 
 law, directs science, inspires music, elevates art, 
 vivifies letters. Read from the sacred desk, in the 
 closet, around the hearthstone ; lisped in childish 
 accents at a mother's knee ; falling in broken tones 
 from patriarchal lips ; it finds its shining way into 
 every heart, and lifts man up to heaven and God. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1874. 
 
 'The Supernatural in Literature," 
 
 Abel Edward Blackmar, 
 
 Edgar Ai Enos. 
 "John Stuart Mill : The Man and the Philosopher," 
 
 Charles Carroll Hemenway. 
 "The First and Nineteenth Centuries of the Christian Re- 
 ligion," 
 
 George William Knox. 
 " The Siege of Londonderry, " 
 
 John Phillips Silvernail. 
 "President Lincoln and his First Cabinet," 
 
 Perry Hiram Smith. 
 "Shakspeare and Goethe." 
 
 THE SUPERNATURAL IN LITERATURE. 
 
 BY EDGAR A. ENOS. 
 
 A BELIEF in the supernatural is common to all 
 ages and peoples. The Indian prostrate 
 before his idol ; the Greek hymning praises to his 
 hero gods ; the Norseman encompassed by the 
 deities of earth and sky ; the Hebrew obeying the 
 voice of an unseen and mysterious Providence, are 
 alike significant of man's instinctive belief in a 
 higher power. That this all-embracing faith should 
 appear in literature, was inevitable ; for literature, 
 in its higher forms, is but the mirror in whose sur- 
 
2 24 ^^^ CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 face lies reflected humanity with all its thoughts, 
 hopes, passions and beliefs. 
 
 The supernatural as an element in literature, 
 presents three phases : the practical, the poetic and 
 the religious. In its practical phase, it appears 
 as an agency disposing events. Clothed in 
 some awful guise, it moves through a story, or 
 broods over a poem, like the spirit of destiny. Re- 
 vealing itself at intervals, it thwarts the designs of 
 the wicked ; advances the fortunes of the virtuous ; 
 and with scimitar edge cuts the knot in which the 
 characters seem hopelessly bound. By a dream or 
 a vision, a spectre or a prophecy, the literary artist 
 reverses the whole current of imaginary life ; shapes 
 the character and movement of his plot ; or hurries 
 the march of events in converging lines to the final 
 catastrophe. By means of a dream, Fitz James 
 discovers the retreat of the Douglas; and by a vision, 
 Alroy finds the hidden sceptre of Judah. The 
 prophecy of Cassandra is decisive of Agamemnon's 
 fate ; and the ghost in Henry's court at Kenilworth 
 brings to justice the traitor knight of Blondeville. 
 
 But the supernatural has a higher function in 
 literature than that of mere framework or machinery. 
 It furnishes material which contains the rarest ele- 
 ments of poetry. Fused in the poet's brain, or 
 moulded by the story-teller's plastic touch, they 
 spring into life ; assume a thousand varied shapes, 
 inspiring emotions of beauty, sublimity or terror. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1874. 225 
 
 As the light streaming through the stained windows 
 of some old Gothic church, colors every object with 
 its magic tints, so the supernatural appearing in a 
 work of literary art, fills it with its presence, illum- 
 inating every scene and character with an unearthly 
 radiance. In Shakspeare's Tempest, it idealizes 
 human life; in the Midsummer Night's Dream, paints 
 the fantastic shapes of fairyland. The nymphs and 
 fawns, the goblins and sprites, spirits of the moun- 
 tain and the river, music in the air and voices of the 
 night, — all the superhuman creations which crowd 
 in ancient myth, or cling to time worn legend, find 
 a shrine at last in the temple of poetry. 
 
 Glance at the conceptions of the beautiful which 
 here find embodiment. Few elements in literature 
 present such wealth of form or range of aesthetic 
 power. Beauty is here in all its diversity of char- 
 acter and type ; now soft and sensuous, lulling us 
 with a dream of houries, now of a severer cast, — Bel- 
 lona beside Mars, or Juno descending from Olympus 
 in her chariot. At one time we are lifted to ecstasy at 
 the sight of elves and fairies, dancing in Titania's 
 court to the music of unseen pla3^ers ; at another, 
 thrilled in every fibre of our being as the enchanted 
 palace of Triermain rises slowly upon our vision. 
 
 Transcending the sphere of beauty, the super- 
 natural brings to literature creations of true sub- 
 limity. These are of two kinds, widely dissimilar 
 in character. In both, the essence of sublimity 
 
2 2 6 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 lies in the manifestation of power ; in one case this 
 is displayed in the physical world ; and in the other 
 in the spiritual. One is a sublimity of matter, the 
 other of intellect. One finds illustration in Vir- 
 gil's Jupiter, throned on a cloud, darting his thun- 
 derbolts, while the ocean roars and the moun- 
 tains, toppling from their bases, fall in universal 
 ruin. The other is seen in Milton's Satan, lying in 
 dim and shadowy vastness upon the burning marl 
 of hell; fallen, yet unsubdued; triumphing over 
 an agony of suffering by dint of his unconquerable 
 will ; and with far-reaching ambition, maturing new 
 plans of rebellion. 
 
 But it is in the realm of terror that the su- 
 pernatural as a poetic element finds its freest 
 exercise. Upon literature in all its stages, from 
 the finished products of classic art to the wild frag- 
 ments chanted by scald, or warlock, it has left its 
 awful imprint. Here it is the witches in Macbeth, 
 prompting the murder of Duncan; there Clorinda's 
 blood, flowing from the wounded cypress. At one 
 time we are horrified by a struggle like that between 
 Michael and the adversary ; at another, by a 
 weird and portentous repose like that which reigns 
 over the House of Usher. Viewless forms and 
 impalpable shapes meet us at every turn, and invest 
 the most familiar objects with a supernal spell. 
 Life itself gathers a fearful meaning when made to 
 yield its secret to Frankenstein's transforming skill ; 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1874. 227 
 
 and death presents new terrors when some disem- 
 bodied spirit, breathing the atmosphere of another 
 world and holding the mysteries of the future, glides 
 before us. 
 
 But the supernatural element has a significance 
 above the reach of mere utility however efficient, or 
 poetic art however lofty and inspiring. Its mere pres- 
 ence in literature is at once the sign and proclamation 
 of a divine idea. The rude mythology of the north, 
 spreading its runic tracery over Scandinavian 
 and Celtic song, witnesses to the fact that religion 
 is man's necessity ; while the more finished creations 
 that crowd the pantheon of Hellenic poetry, em- 
 blem the central truths of revelation. Zeus, 
 sitting above the lesser gods, — invisible, supreme, 
 — points to a primitive monotheism. The Delphian 
 oracle is an echo of the response by Urim and 
 Thummim. Hades, with its Elysian fields and 
 Tartarian gulf, affirms the doctrine of a future 
 life with its rewards and punishments. In 
 the sentence of Prometheus we read the curse 
 of Adam ; and the mediation of ' ' great Loxias " 
 shadows forth the necessity and hope of a reconcil- 
 ing God-Man. The spirits and divinities which move 
 in epic life, or sweep through the ever-shifting scenes 
 of ancient tragedy, represent those attributes which 
 rest in the Infinite and are imaged in the human 
 soul. In Dike, we see eternal justice ; in Themis 
 all-pervading law ; in Nemesis, sleepless retribu- 
 
2 2 8 THE CLA RK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 tion ; in the Furies, swift vengeance ; in black 
 Ate, the irreversible decrees of God. 
 
 As these vague conceptions of the unseen found 
 a voice in the writings of classic paganism, so the 
 more definite truths of Christianity became expressed 
 in the literatures of the new Romanic and Gothic 
 nationalities. The longings and premonitions of 
 faith, its martyr-devotions, its struggles and auster- 
 ities, suddenly flowed in a tide of song from 
 Dante's burning heart, and formed that fiery symbol 
 of mediaeval Catholicism, — the Divine Comedy. 
 In its matchless pictures are portrayed the spiritual 
 ideas of the middle ages, — the awfulness of sin and 
 retribution, expiation through purifying fire, and 
 the rest and refreshment of paradise. Goethe's 
 tragedy of Faust with its Mephistopheles and 
 spirits infernal and celestial, is the exponent of a 
 subtile, religious philosophy ; and Milton's ' 'cathe- 
 dral epic" rings with supernatural music whose 
 sublime burden is ' * eternal Providence and the 
 ways of God to men." 
 
 Such is the supernatural as a religious element in 
 letters. It is an inner life witnessing to divine 
 things, — a soul which shines through and reveals 
 with greater or less distinctness the spiritual con- 
 dition of man in any given age. In the ancient 
 Vedas, it is a note of wonder and superstitious fear; 
 in the heathen classics, it assumes the outlines of a 
 belief ; in Christia-n literature, it is a clear and dom- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1874. 229 
 
 inant faith, pointing to the altar-throne where 
 Christ Hfts up his face — royal, messianic. 
 
 It is related that a certain king was accustomed 
 at times to visit the tomb of Catherine of Sienna, 
 and to carry away with him on each occasion some 
 precious relic of the saint, which became in his 
 hands a talisman of wondrous virtue. So the liter- 
 ary artist repairs to the shrine of the supernatural, 
 and bears away some spiritual token with which 
 to move the minds and hearts of men. By its 
 agency he orders and controls the events of mimic 
 life, kindles poetic feeling, and proclaims the death- 
 less truths of relig^ion. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1875. 
 
 " iEschylus and Shakspeare as Masters of Tragedy," 
 Frank Samuel Child. 
 
 " The Transportation Problem," 
 
 Samuel William Eddy, 
 JosiAH Augustus Hyland. 
 
 "The Bible in Art," 
 
 Milton Watson George. 
 
 " The Opening of the Mississippi in 1S62," 
 
 William Ebenezer Lewis. 
 
 " The Humorous Element in the History of Reforms," 
 Charles Kirkland Seward. 
 
 "Ancient and Modern Heroism." 
 
 THE HUMOROUS ELEMENT IN THE HISTORY OF 
 REFORMS. 
 
 BY CHARLES K. SEWARD. 
 
 ALL things human are capable of improvement. 
 The imperfections of man leave their impress 
 upon his works. The history of religion, politics, 
 social science, of civilization, is but a series of 
 amendments of the defective, vicious or corrupt ; a 
 history of reforms. Some have been vast upheavals, 
 which have shaken society to its foundations. 
 Others have taken place so quietly, that their exist- 
 ence has been scarcely known. In this extensive 
 field, what has been the place of the humorous ele- 
 ment } \ 
 
EXHIBIl ION OF 187s. 2 3 1 
 
 Humor is too subtle for definition. In its broad- 
 est sense, it is inborn in the human race, and touches 
 a responsive chord in every nature. It is a charac- 
 teristic that distinguishes man from the animal. It 
 was shown in the will of Rabelais, * * I owe much ; 
 I have nothing ; I leave the rest to the poor." It 
 appeared in the dying words of Saint Lawrence, 
 broiling on the gridiron, "Turn me, for I am done 
 on one side." No occasion is too solemn for its 
 manifestation. The humorous has entered into all 
 reforms. In some, it has been almost imperceptible. 
 In others, it has been a leading feature. Only 
 when the other elements are brought into due prom- 
 inence, can its proper sphere be determined. 
 
 The great reforms of the world's history have been 
 few. Eighteen hundred years ago, Christianity 
 supplanted paganism, and from the ashes of the old, 
 arose a new and purer civilization. A mighty re- 
 formation had taken place ; but only the perverted 
 faculties of a Nero could discover humor in the re- 
 ligion of ''the man of sorrows." 
 
 Fourteen centuries passed away. There came 
 another mighty reformation, and the same religion 
 arose, purified from the corrupting touch of man. 
 Here, too, the humorous has but little place. It is 
 dwarfed into insignificance by the mightier forces 
 which are at work. Erasmus may have laid the 
 egg of the Reformation, but he also tried to break 
 it. He scornfully asserted that the much revered 
 
232 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 handkerchief of Thomas a Becket, was not, at best, 
 exalted above the orthodox youth of that indispen- 
 sable article. He accused the priests of kissing the 
 saints' old shoes, but not reading their books. He 
 drove the monks to frenzy. But it was Luther, 
 nailing his defiance to the door of the cathedral, 
 who sounded the first note of the Reformation. 
 
 Luther, springing from his bed, at the gnawing 
 of a mouse, and searching with lighted candle for 
 the devil; Luther, dashing his inkstand at the head 
 of that same sulphurous personage, might create a 
 smile. But there is a dreadful reality to the scene. 
 Think of this man, weighed down with horror, 
 wrestling in mental agony with the personification 
 of the powers of hell. Search the history of the 
 Reformation in every land, and it is with the same 
 result. Did the Beggars of Holland provoke 
 laughter by the absurdity of their costume } Yet 
 the spirit that animated those men was the spirit 
 that animated the bloodiest battle-fields of history 
 and surrendered their native land to the cold embra- 
 ces of the sea. 
 
 Trace the history of revolutions, those stupen- 
 dous political reforms which have shaken the whole 
 structure of society. The author of * ' Lilliburlero " 
 boasted that he had rhymed a king out of his king- 
 dom. But it was only a boast. James H., backed 
 by the bayonets of France, was not laughed out of 
 a throne. In that bloody attempt to proclaim 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1873. 233 
 
 ''Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," Barere saw humor; 
 but it was a humor that would make 
 
 ' ' Hell's burning rafters 
 Unwillingly reecho laughters." 
 
 When men are willing to die for an idea, when 
 life, when all that they hold dearest, is at stake, 
 the humorous element fades into nothingness be- 
 side the soul-absorbing interest. 
 
 There are reforms which fill no glowing page in 
 history. Not less important, they nip those evils 
 in the bud, which, developed, would demand severer 
 treatment. Ever in progress, their name is legion, 
 their mission the gradual improvement of the human 
 race. Here vital interest does not engross. Here 
 mightier forces are not at work, and the humorous 
 element rises into prominence. Its objects are as 
 numerous as its appreciation is universal, embrac- 
 ing alike the petty weaknesses of mankind, and the 
 most powerful political institutions. It sneers at 
 vice and folly from the faultless metres of the poet 
 who could say, 
 
 "I own I'm proud — I must be proud to see 
 Men not afraid of God afraid of me." 
 
 Appearing in fiction, in Dr. Sangrado, it struck 
 an effective blow at the heroic school of medicine 
 which, adopting the motto, "kill or cure," bled 
 and blistered refactory patients until it could truly 
 boast, that chronic invalids were unknown. It 
 16 
 
234 ^^^ CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 overflows in the genial pages of Dickens, ridiculing 
 hypocrisy in the sleek Pecksniff, unable to eat with- 
 out going into a pious rhapsody over the beautiful 
 machinery of digestion, and spouting streams of 
 maudlin morality, under the soothing influence of 
 milk punch. It exposes the terrible defects of the 
 English courts, pares the claws of Dodson and Fogg, 
 or destroys the brutal schools of Yorkshire, by a 
 faithful portrayal of the Squeers system of educa- 
 tion. 
 
 Rising to a higher sphere, humor appears in polit- 
 ical reforms. In the scathing satire of Swift, it 
 railed at the misgovernment of Ireland. In the 
 sparkling wit of Sydney Smith, it forced the Reform 
 Bill to an issue. In our own times, it is personi- 
 fied in the caricatures of Nast, solving the conun- 
 drum of the would-be statesman, ' ' What are you 
 going to do about it t " In the progress of reforms, 
 humor has been an important element. It points 
 out and prunes off the excesses and inconsistences 
 which would impede the progress of the original 
 idea. Written with the deliberate intention of ridi- 
 culing the Puritan reformers, Hudibras did not 
 check Puritanism, but made it a greater power, by 
 removing a fatal hypocrisy which would * ' compound 
 for sins it was inclined to, by damning those it had 
 no mind to." So with that well-known description 
 of the meeting of the ' ' Brick Lane Branch of the 
 United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance As- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1873. 235 
 
 sociation, " where the women were ' ' drowning them- 
 selves in tea, " and the secretary was ' ' blowing him- 
 self with toast and water ; " where Mr. Weller 
 mournfully remarks to his son, '* If this here goes 
 on much longer, Sammy, I shall feel called upon as 
 a human bein' to rise and address the cheer. There's 
 a young 'ooman, on the next form but two, as has 
 drank nine breakfast cups and a half, and she's a 
 swellin' wisibly before my wery eyes." The inten- 
 tion was to ridicule the " tea-total" principle ; the 
 result was to remove from temperance reforms a 
 mass of inconsistences. 
 
 As there have been false religions, so there have 
 been false reforms. Some are wrong in principle. 
 Others are but the unreasonable development of a 
 true principle. Here is the grandest sphere of the 
 humorous element. Here, transcending all other 
 uses, it becomes the touchstone which detects truth, 
 even in the midst of error. The true it may tem- 
 porarily distort. The false it utterly annihilates. 
 It has railed at Bergh, as a man whose compas- 
 sionate nature would melt into tears at the thought 
 of . beating an ^gg. Yet, despite ridicule, he has 
 rooted out the old Italian idea which excused acts 
 of the most fiendish cruelty on the plea '' that 
 animals were not Christians," by showing conclu- 
 sively that their tortures are still less entitled to 
 that appellation. But when another philanthropist 
 proposed to restore to suffering humanity all its 
 
236 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 lost virtues by a strictly vegetable diet, the wag- 
 gish cry of *' squash-head," and other opprobrious 
 vegetarian epithets, annihilated alike the reform 
 and the peculiar logic of its originator. One was 
 the consistent development of a true principle. 
 The other was the inconsistent development of a 
 Greeley principle. 
 
 This truth receives its fullest illustration in that 
 fen;inine shriek for independence, as embodied in 
 the woman's rights movement. It has been greeted 
 with a merriment so universal as to goad the ven- 
 erable Miss Anthony into calling the lords of crea- 
 tion a disreputable set of ''male despots." Yet 
 ridicule has but distinguished the true from the 
 false in this so-called reform. It has not prevented 
 woman from obtaining a protection which she 
 needs, or an occupation for which she is suited. 
 It has checked the false ideas which demand for her 
 everything from the right of voting to the right of 
 shaving, which abolish marriage and other old 
 fogy institutions, and by annihilating sex, seek to 
 correct the bungling hand of the Creator. They 
 quote Scripture with a facility which might make 
 Satan wag his traditional tail with joy. To all argu- 
 ment, they reply with the illogical vituperation of 
 an infuriated virago. But they fall before the fire 
 of a ridicule which designates their leaders as 
 ** morbid old maids," sums up their character in 
 Mr. Tappertit's epithet of ' ' scraggy, " and suggests 
 
EXHIBIT ION OF iSfS. 237 
 
 that marriage partakes of the nature of sour grapes, 
 whose acidity has permeated their disposition. 
 Ideas, costume, language, all the absurd incongrui- 
 ties of this pseudo-reform have been so unmerci- 
 fully ridiculed that its fate is sealed, and ere long 
 its advocates will have to say, with the victim of 
 connubial infelicity, that the appropriate sphere of 
 woman is celestial. 
 
 Such has been the humorous element in the his- 
 tory of reforms. Its power is in showing the in- 
 congruous. Its action is essentially destructive. 
 Attacking corrupt men and institutions, it has 
 cleared the way for reform by removing the obsta- 
 cles in its path. Appearing in reforms already in 
 progress, it lops off their suicidal inconsistencies. 
 Retiring to a higher sphere, it has been the test be- 
 fore which a true reform has been unharmed. A 
 false reform has withered at its touch, as the 
 human bodies, exhumed from Pompeii seemingly 
 perfect, at the touch of air crumble into dust. In 
 all it has existed, but in widely different degrees. 
 In the mighty reformations of the word's history it 
 has been overshadowed. In the lesser ones it rises 
 into prominence. Here has been its appropriate 
 sphere, not in those raging floods which have swept 
 everything before them, but in the innumerable 
 tributaries, which unite to form the mighty stream 
 of human progress. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1876. 
 
 " Catherine de Medici and Mary Tudor," 
 
 . Clarence Lidsley Barber. 
 "The Language of a Nation a Source of its Power," 
 
 James Fairbairn Brodie. 
 " The Pathos of the Bible," 
 
 Howard Parmelee Eells. 
 "The Place of Music among the Fine Arts," 
 
 Archibald Longworth Love. 
 " The Humorous Side of American Politics," 
 
 Humphrey McMaster. 
 " The Transit of Venus in 1S74," 
 
 Edward Charles Stringer. 
 
 THE PATHOS OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 BY HOWARD P. EELLS. 
 
 PALESTINE, to-day, is a land of ruins. Fields, 
 once fertile, are desert; hillsides, once clothed 
 with vineyards, are barren and unsightly ; cities 
 dismantled; harbors choked with rubbish and the 
 refuse of the sea. All is worse than solitude, ac- 
 cursed, ' ' trodden under foot of the Gentiles ;" yet, 
 the hills are musical with words that shall outlast 
 them an eternity. Traverse the valley of Hebron, 
 — there lie the bones of the patriarchs ; visit the 
 borders of the Dead Sea, — its sluggish waters roll 
 over the cities of the plain, and trace the fire-storm 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1876. 239 
 
 from heaven. And there, beautiful for situation, 
 the Holy City stands, Jerusalem, whither the tribes 
 went up ; the guilty city, where He warned, and 
 healed and pleaded, over which He wept ; the fated 
 city, desecrated by man's darkest crime, consecrat- 
 ed by the marvelous manifestation of redeeming 
 love. As the verification of prophetic truth ; as 
 the centre of memories tenderest, most sacred ; 
 these ruins are nature's tribute to the pathos of the 
 Bible. They recall the touching narration of holy 
 writ, whose sympathetic influence is felt wherever 
 the word has gone forth. Divested of its pathos, 
 the Bible were but a compilation of social ethics. 
 
 An ancient legend has it, that a tyrant of the 
 East went forth to battle vv^ith the Greeks. Gaz- 
 ing upon the mass of living millions enlisted in his 
 cause, the monarch's heart was melted. He wept, 
 he knew not why. The tears came not, as he sup- 
 posed, from any inference of reflection. They rose 
 spontaneously, as they will at times, amid the bustle 
 of a crowded thoroughfare. Our own emotions are 
 reflected back from other hearts. We feel the 
 thrill of spiritual contact, the mighty presence of 
 life. Such is the pathos of the Bible, the underly- 
 ing tenderness which makes the book of books, 
 the book of human nature ; sounding the depths of 
 human sympathy, universal, indefinable, profound. 
 
 Poetry and pathos in the Bible are subordinate. 
 It never controverts its sacred office, nor makes ef- 
 
240 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 feet a purpose. The tender and poetical are hum- 
 ble instruments to seal the truth upon the con- 
 sciences of men. The child, who cannot compre- 
 hend the love divine, is melted as he hears from 
 mother lips the sweet story of Him who was Him- 
 self a babe at Bethlehem, who loved and blessed 
 the children. The man, who, scarcely better than 
 the child, can know the wonders of the same inex- 
 plicable love, is impressed by the simplicity and 
 tenderness that mark that strange, eventful life. 
 
 A pathos akin to the sublime, is carried with the 
 inspiration of the Bible. Not of their own power, 
 not in their own strength, but as the spirit gave 
 them utterance spake the holy men of God. An 
 angel touched the prophet's lips with an altar coal. 
 Amid the glory of the rushing chariot, the mantle 
 fell on the waiting disciple. We feel the magic of 
 that Presence, revealed on Sinai, and on Calvary, 
 which dwelt between the cherubim, and led the 
 chosen people like a flock. 
 
 The attempt were futile to analyze or include the 
 pathos of the Bible. The delicate sentiment which 
 pervades the holy book defies disintegration. 
 Whatever wakens a responsive echo in the heart, 
 evokes the tender feeling. At the approach of 
 formal scrutiny or cold analysis, it vanishes. 
 
 In illustration of this Bible pathos, we instance 
 from the lives of some whose names are household 
 words, the portrayal of a single passion. ' ' Bless- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1876. 241 
 
 ings be with them, and eternal praise, who gave us 
 noble loves." 
 
 We scan the sacred pages but for a moment, for 
 an instance of fraternal love. A palace in the land 
 of Egypt ; the famine years of Pharaoh ; a ruler of 
 the land, and a poor company of Israelites from 
 Canaan. The story rushes to the mind : the trial 
 of the guilty brethren ; the finding of the cup with 
 little Benjamin; the final recognition when Joseph, 
 who was sold a captive, weeps upon his brother's 
 neck. This is no solitary instance. Few eulogies 
 are so affecting as the lamentation of the Psalmist 
 for his friend : 
 
 " I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan ; 
 Very pleasant hast thou been unto me ; 
 Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.' 
 
 But in the life of David there are stories of a love 
 whose springs lie deeper. To their pathos many a 
 father's heart will testify. He has an infant son, 
 the child of his old age, the only one of her whose 
 place was first in his affections. The Lord has 
 claimed his own. The king, with face upon the 
 earth, wrestles all night for the dear life ; but no 
 "amen" is sent. Silence has fallen on the house, 
 bearing on its wings the dreaded truth. With 
 trembling lips he asks, ' ' Is the child dead .?" They 
 answer, "He is dead." But when they looked to 
 see him overwhelmed. 
 
242 1HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 " Behold his face grew calm, 
 He silently went in and shortly came, 
 Robed and anointed, forth, and to the house 
 Of God went up to pray ; 
 And when they marvelled, said, 
 ' The child is dead, and I shall go to him, 
 But he will not return to me.' " 
 
 Again his yearning heart is bruised, and by a 
 son's ingratitude. At length has come a final strug- 
 gle with the rebels. The battle rages in the wood 
 of Ephraim ; and David sits between the gates at 
 Mahanaim, awaiting anxiously the end. Tidings 
 of victory at last ; but Absalom is slain. The in- 
 jured king is lost in the stricken father. The agony 
 in that little chamber over the gate at Mahanaim 
 will ever be a type of the parental grief which 
 passes all description and finds vent in the one wail, 
 " O Absalom, my son, my son ! " 
 
 Recall the scene of Moses' death, an instance of 
 thej'patriotic love which marked the life of him 
 who, as youth, disdained adoption by the heathen king, 
 choosing rather to suffer with God's persecuted peo- 
 ple. The Promised Land, hope of those forty 
 weary years, stretches before him, almost attained. 
 With lingering look the prophet gazes, then bows 
 unmurmuring to the Almighty will. Traditions 
 crowd in to fill up the blank ; but the silence of the 
 sacred narrative refuses to be broken. In that 
 strange land, ''the land of Moab, Moses, the ser- 
 vant of the Lord, died according to the word of the 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1876. 243 
 
 Lord. And He buried him in a valley in the land 
 
 of Moab." Apart from countrymen, unhonored by 
 
 funeral obsequies, unvisited by grateful pilgrims, 
 
 "no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.'* 
 
 Seek the grave on Nebo, or the tomb on Golgotha ; 
 
 darkness envelops the sacred spot. 
 
 The tragedy of Jephthah's daughter finds a parallel 
 
 in classic legend. Contrast the Jewish maiden's 
 
 fortitude with the despair of Sophocles' Antigone. 
 
 To both, a childless death had all the horror of 
 
 traditional disgrace. But one accepts, without a 
 
 murmur, the conditions of that fatal vow ; the other 
 
 exclaims in helplessness and misery, ' ' I shall be 
 
 married to Acheron !" The sacrifice of Jephthah's 
 
 daughter was not the offering of a reluctant victim, 
 
 as when the living Gaul or Greek was buried in the 
 
 Roman forum. Hateful in itself to God, it had that 
 
 feature of pure filial love, which gives to the story 
 
 its tenderness, to the character its nobleness. 
 
 ' ' How beautiful it were to die 
 For God and for my sire !" 
 
 Amid much of Bible narrative that is foreign to 
 our life and thoughts, the story of Rachel is as 
 fresh and natural as if it happened yesterday. As 
 if, in some deserted city, we came upon a home 
 strewn with household vessels, children's toys, pil- 
 lows retaining the impress of heads which lay 
 upon them but an hour ago. Jacob's love for 
 Rachel was the one self-sacrificing affection of his 
 
244 ^^^ CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 life. For her sake the seven years of trial seemed 
 as nothing, ** for the love he had to her." Dearest 
 of all on earth to him, her children seem to have 
 been dearer for her sake than for their own. 
 
 But all images of feminine purity, tenderness 
 and courage seem rough and poor beside that maid 
 of Galilee, wending her unnoticed way to the 
 mother of John the Baptist, her ov/n soul full of mother 
 love. Alone, with the hope of the world in her 
 heart, she crossed the hills to meet the one other 
 woman who might share the secret of her joy. No 
 lilies sprang in her path ; no millennial lambs and 
 lions did her homage. But God himself was with 
 her, *' a thousand liveried angels lackey her," and 
 all along the solitary way her soul did magnify the 
 Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her Saviour. 
 
 Is there not a depth of pathos in the narrative 
 of these historical events that cluster about the one 
 event which began all Christian history, that He to 
 whom every knee in heaven and earth shall bow, 
 once lay, at Bethlehem, a babe on this poor Gali- 
 lean woman's breast t 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1877. 
 
 ' ' The Destruction of Jerusalem a Fulfilment of Prophecy, 
 
 Frank Dorr Budlong. 
 " The Humor and Pathos of the American Revolution," 
 
 Harry Wirt Cockerill. 
 "Realism in Literature," 
 
 George Hodges. 
 " The Moslem in Europe," 
 
 Charles Sumner Hoyt. 
 "The Present, the Golden Age," 
 
 William Clifford McAdam. 
 "The Heroism of General Havelock," 
 
 Frank Vandermooler Mills. 
 
 THE HEROISM OF GENERAL HAVELOCK. 
 
 BY FRANK V. MILLS. 
 
 HEROISM needs not to be defined. Yet there 
 is a distinction worth while to note, between 
 the man of heroic deeds and the man of heroic Hfe. 
 The heroism of the former is that of Mark Antony 
 or Benedict Arnold ; that of the latter is signally 
 illustrated in the brave, unselfish and blameless life 
 of Henry Havelock. 
 
 His career in India is bright with deeds of valor. 
 From the day he scaled the walls at Rangoon until 
 his death, his life was a series of unparalleled ex- 
 ploits. Yet the bravest of his deeds takes on a 
 
246 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 brighter glory from the heroic nature of the man ; 
 from the spirit and high purpose of his hfe. There 
 is something subhme in the patience and resolution 
 with which he trod the path of duty. Rarely has 
 one of such genius and energy, with such a brave 
 heart and wise head, been so little honored by the 
 government from which he deserved so much. 
 After fever and shipwreck ; after campaigns in the 
 mountains of Afghanistan and on the burning plains 
 of the Persian Gulf ; after a score of years service 
 in India, he held but a subordinate position in the 
 army. His heroism was not that of the self-seek- 
 ing place-hunter ; it was tarnished neither with self- 
 ishness nor unholy ambition. Not until England 
 mourned the gray haired veteran whom her people 
 loved and trusted, not until our own flag was low- 
 ered to his memory, did Parliament grant to him 
 those honors, alike ennobling to the heroes who re- 
 ceives and the government who confers them. Par- 
 liament perceived his conspicuous heroism only in 
 time to lay honors upon his tomb. But in India 
 and among his companions in arms, there was quick 
 and constant recognition of his heroic life. Lord 
 Bentinck, Governor general, promoted him ' ' be- 
 cause he was the fittest man for it. " To the officers 
 at Cabool, he was the ' ' guiding spirit of the army. " 
 Sir James Outram, appointed to command at Cawn- 
 poor, in admiration of his brilliant deeds in arms, 
 offered cheerfully to wave superior rank and ten- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1877. 247 
 
 dered his military services to General Havelock as 
 a volunteer. 
 
 A stern commander, a thorough disciplinarian, 
 he enforced the strictest obedience. But when he 
 laid aside official character, the tender and kind but 
 not less manly qualities of the Christian man ap- 
 peared. As he tosses upon his sleepless couch, in 
 a struggle between love for his family and duty to 
 his country ; as he shares the last drink of water 
 with a perishing comrade in the fatal Bolan Pass ; 
 as he weeps over horrible scenes at Cawnpoor, and 
 with his own hand ministers to the wants of the 
 dying warrior, we see the husband and the father ; 
 the self-sacrificing soldier ; the tender-hearted 
 commander ; the heroism of a noble and unselfish 
 life. No wonder that weary soldiers, lying in the 
 streets to catch a moment's rest after the battle of 
 Bithoor, spring to their feet at sight of him and 
 cry, '' Clear the way for the General." No wonder 
 that the cheers that rend the air as he passes down 
 the line, are followed by the earnest prayer, " God 
 save the General." 
 
 To culture and a thorough knowledge of his pro- 
 fession. General Havelock added a quick and uner- 
 ring judgment, great caution and sagacity. 
 
 But his heroism was not alone displayed amid 
 ''the pomp and ceremony of war." His was not 
 the heroism of mere physical courage ; but to that 
 he joined the sublime courage of him, who, fearing 
 
248 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 to do wrong, has no other fear. He was as good as 
 he was great. Whatever his circumstances or po- 
 sition, his Christian character was always evident. 
 Refused promotion, on account of his rehgion, stig- 
 matized as a Baptist ; scoffed at by irreverent offi- 
 cers and men, he still meekly but bravely bore the 
 banner of the cross. Religion was vitalized and 
 throned within him. It governed his actions and 
 gave character to his life. Out of the small pay of 
 a subaltern he consecrated the scriptural tenth to 
 the Master. Let the march be ever so long and 
 wearisome he would ever find two hours for devo- 
 tion. In a heathen temple he leads his troops in 
 the worship of God. Shipwrecked upon the Bay 
 of Bengal, he gathered passengers and crew to ren- 
 der thanks for deliverance. Everywhere, a noble 
 type of the Christian soldier, he ' ' wears the white 
 flower of a blameless life." 
 
 The influence and power of such a character upon 
 his men is illustrated by an incident. General 
 Campbell, calling for a certain troop, was told that 
 they were too drunk for service. "Then," said he, 
 ' ' call out Havelock's saints, they are never drunk 
 and Havelockis always ready." The bugle sounded; 
 the *' saints" fell into line ; the ranks closed grandly 
 up, and under the lead of him who had so often 
 led them in prayer they charged upon the enemy 
 and put him to flight. 
 
 After proceeding from service to service, from 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1877. 249 
 
 victory to victory, exhibiting his wisdom and brav- 
 ery in a hundred Indian battles, General Have- 
 lock enters upon his last campaign. Its object was 
 the relief of Cawnpoor and Lucknow, besieged by 
 a host of rebel sepoys. The task demanded great 
 energy, and courage and military skill. The little 
 army commenced its march. Beat upon by scorch- 
 ing sun and driving rain, wet and w^eary, often they 
 laid down at night without food or tents. Here 
 they lift their heavy guns over swamps and morasses; 
 there they train them upon the enemy and 
 drive him from his strongholds ; and so, over deluged 
 fields, through swollen rivers and across burning 
 plains, they press steadily on towards their be- 
 leaguered friends. A splendid march — one hundred 
 and thirty miles in seven days — in the midst of a 
 tropical summer, and they are almost in sight of 
 Cawnpoor. Four battles are w^on ; the last barrier 
 removed and the heroic leader waits for the day, 
 to take the city. But hark ! The roar of cannon 
 rends the night air. The army rushes forward and 
 enters the town, but alas ! instead of the enemy 
 they see on every side the mangled forms of women 
 and children and old men slaughtered by the treach- 
 erous Nana Sahib. 
 
 Thus ended the first act of the terrible tragedy. 
 
 The last displays in even brighter colors the heroism 
 
 of Havelock. Cawnpoor is now to be garrisoned and 
 
 Lucknow relieved. It was work requiring a brave 
 
 17 
 
250 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 heart and wise head. The Ganges, overflowing its 
 banks, must be bridged and crossed under the fire of 
 the enemy. Then forty miles of hostile country, 
 swarming with rebels, lie between them and the city. 
 There is pestilence in the air. The heroic march 
 accomplished, Lucknow itself frowns upon them. 
 In rifle pits, on housetops, behind breastworks and 
 palace walls, forty thousand barbarous and blood- 
 thirsty men, who keep no faith and show no mercy, 
 await their coming. 
 
 ' * Will he dare it, the hero undaunted, 
 That terrible, sickening fight, 
 Or will the hot blood of his courage freeze 
 In his veins at the sight ? " 
 
 Twice the attempt is made ; twice the gallant 
 army, weakened by disease and disseminated by 
 pestilence is compelled to retreat. The dangers of 
 the position demand a sublime and calculating cour- 
 age on the part of the commander. Conflicting ar- 
 guments, interests and emotions beset him. On the 
 one hand are the prayers of the beleaguered garrison 
 and the orders of the government ; on the other, 
 the terrible torture of delay and the taunt of faint- 
 heartedness. This way lies the goal of ambition ; 
 that way, the loss of his command. To advance 
 was to ensure a personal triumph, but a military 
 failure, while a retreat promised humiliation for him- 
 self but ultimate success for the army. Now the 
 heroism of the man finds its sublimest exhibition. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1877. 2 5 1 
 
 Disregarding all personal interest, laying all upon 
 his country's altar and with an eye single to her 
 advantages, he decided the momentous question 
 and determined to wait for aid. 
 
 At length it came. The toilsome journey is done. 
 Lucknow stands before them and the march of 
 of death begins. On, along the elevated road, raked 
 by the enemy's fire, across the bridge, through nar- 
 row, tortuous streets lurid with discharge of mus- 
 ketry, over bristling breastworks, ''right into the 
 jav/s of death," on they sweep ! " Grape and can- 
 nister, shell and shrapnel rain upon them. On 
 through the gardens, over the palisades, across the 
 rifle pits, strewing their dead like autumn leaves," 
 for two miles through the city, on, on they go. Bar- 
 rier after barrier is broken ; the smoke rolls away ; 
 the great gate swings open, and with shouts of 
 triumph the column enter the residency. Lucknow 
 is relieved ; the immortal victory is won, but fatigue 
 and exposure had brought the victor low. He was 
 now to meet the last enemy to whom all must yield. 
 Having called his son to "come and see how a 
 Christian could die," in the hour of his great 
 triumph, while the people for whom he had given 
 his life were rejoicing in their deliverance, he *' fell 
 asleep," covered with as much glory as ever sur- 
 rounded the name of a British hero. And it was 
 said, ''Mourn not for him, for a nobler, braver, 
 purer spirit never winged its way to God." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1878. 
 
 "An Ancient and a Modern Battle as Typical of the Old and 
 New Civilizations," 
 
 Seward Duane Allen, 
 
 Charles Rawson Kingsley. 
 " The Ideal Element in Literature, " 
 
 Henry White Callahan. 
 "The Pennsylvania Miner," 
 
 James Alton Davis. 
 "Four Scenes in the Life of Washington Illustrating his 
 Character," 
 
 George William Ellis. 
 "Remorse as Delineated in English Poetry," 
 
 William Lorenzo Parsons. 
 "American and English Humor." 
 
 REMORSE AS DELliNEATED IN ENGLISH POETRY. 
 
 BY WILLIAM L. PARSONS. 
 
 REMORSE in English poetry is unmistakably a 
 voice of warning. It holds up to evil doers 
 the terrors of the law. Mirrored in its clear ex- 
 panse, guilt sees its blackest image, and retribution 
 stalks with swift and certain step. 
 
 Shakspeare was a moral teacher. He was the 
 poet of conscience, and the still, small voice speaks 
 from his pages, trumpet-toned. But the voice is 
 
' EXHIBITION OF 1878. 253 
 
 not uniform. Now it takes on a sad melody, woo- 
 ing to repentance ; oftener it loses itself in the 
 thunder of denunciation ; it is relentless justice, 
 pronouncing the damning sentence ; it is remorse. 
 Macbeth's murderous dagger has struck deeper 
 than the heart of Duncan. It has cut through and 
 through the armor which "fate and metaphysical 
 aid " have cast about the cowardly heart of the as- 
 sassin. A wounded and awakening conscience 
 gives the lie to the shallow pretext of fatalism. 
 Pent up remorse rushes upon its victim, and guilty 
 thoughts make for themselves material habitations. 
 To Macbeth's frightened senses, the bowlings of the 
 storm are human tones : 
 
 ' ' Methought I heard a voice cry, ' Sleep no more ! 
 Macbetli does murder sleep ' — the innocent sleep, 
 Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care. 
 Still it cried ' Sleep no more ! ' to all the house ; 
 ' Glamis hath murder' d sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
 Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more.' " 
 
 It is the remorse of a noble nature, overborne by 
 seeming fatality. Enveloped in the shadow of 
 destiny, inflamed with prophecies of future great- 
 ness, urged on by the taunts and entreaties of Lady 
 Macbeth, his faltering purpose yields. YetShaks- 
 peare does not teach fatalism, else remorse had 
 never held sway in the heart of Macbeth, or raised 
 before him the ghost of murdered Banquo. And for 
 the woman who waits in the castle hall, that dag- 
 
254 T^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ger thrust has swept from the future, hope and 
 peace. The deed is done ; ambition has snatched 
 his crown, and her strained nerves relax before the 
 blow which has quickened the coarser nature of her 
 husband into unwonted courage. True, in her 
 waking hours, she rises superior to guilty terrors. 
 But when the body sleeps, and the will of adamant 
 has wandered from its stony citadel, then con- 
 science rules. She dies at last, with the dreadful 
 spectre of remorse at her side, closing up the vista 
 of hope and blighting her farewell to earth with a 
 curse. 
 
 Richard III., unlike Macbeth, could look his 
 guilt squarely in the face and say, '^ I know thee 
 and I love thee ;" more diabolical than human, his 
 intellect Titanic, his heart Satanic. No pretext 
 there of destiny ; no shrinking from the conscious- 
 ness of crime. A being to laugh at sympathy and 
 scorn pity ; his soul the throne of a relentless 
 demon, urging him on to continued crime. But 
 the voice that speaks in both man and devil, still 
 lives within the soul of Richard, and on the dread- 
 ful night at Bosworth Field, the arch-fiend yields 
 to its enchantment. Then the ghosts of murdered 
 kinsmen come thronging back into remembrance. 
 Unerring memory brings the accusations and con- 
 science sits in judgment. Before that awful 
 tribunal Richard makes confession : 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1878. 255 
 
 ' ' My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
 Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree. 
 Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree. 
 All several sins, are used in each degree. 
 Throng to the bar, crying all, — Guilty ! guilty !" 
 
 Joseph Cook, borrowing from Victor Hugo, calls 
 remorse ''the laughter of the soul at itself," and in 
 Richard's midnight dream, we hear a sardonic out- 
 burst of self-hatred and self-scorn. It is the echo 
 of a fiendish chorus chanting a derisive requiem 
 over a fallen soul. 
 
 Theologians speak of the * ' prophetic office of 
 conscience." It is a merciful glance into the future ; 
 the beneficence of conscience, foreshadowing, by a 
 single pang, the slow, wasting, lengthening days of 
 remorse. Macbeth's air-drawn dagger is a symbol 
 of coming woe. Hamlet, just stepping over the 
 brink of time, starts back. Conscience holds be- 
 fore him the vision of the future : 
 
 ' ' To die, to sleep : 
 To sleep ! perchance to dream !" 
 
 Like a weird, fitful light, the supernatural broods 
 over Shakspeare's delineations of remorse. The 
 horror within will not image itself in earthly ob- 
 jects, but steps beyond the grave to meet its fearful 
 embodiment. Remorse in Shakspeare is distinc- 
 tively imaginative. Conscience has left the domain 
 of emotion and holds its seat in the imagination. 
 
256 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 Thomas Hood, the quaint, kindly poet and 
 philanthropist, has doffed his jester's cap and as- 
 sumed an aspect of unwonted sternness. When he 
 tells the "Dream of Eugene Aram," he clothes him- 
 self in Shakspeare's garb. Here again, as in Shaks- 
 peare, a diseased imagination calls up visions of 
 empty air to picture the terrible thoughts within. 
 The nervous structure is shattered. The criminal 
 can not rest. The spectre of his victim is ever at 
 his side. The white, dead face lives in his mem- 
 ory ; the sightless eyes pierce through and through 
 his soul, and the dying moan of the murdered man 
 sounds like thunder in his ears : 
 
 ' ' The universal air 
 Seems lit with ghastly flame : 
 Ten thousand, thousand dreadful eyes 
 Are looking down in blame." 
 
 Milton, the Puritan poet, has taken a loftier 
 flight than Shakspeare and Hood. Refusing, in the 
 proud individuality of his genius, to picture human 
 remorse, he has listened to the mightier throbbings 
 of Satan's heart, and told of the pangs which angels 
 feel who fall. 
 
 Satan's soul is a scarred battle-field, and evil has 
 won in the strife. But confusion reigns supreme. 
 Holier instincts, though conquered, still send out 
 their feeble protest. Satan's remorse is not repent- 
 ance, neither is it pure remorse. Faith is gone, 
 but hope remains ; sorrow is there, but it is sorrow 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1878. 257 
 
 for conquered pride ; sorrow without repentance, 
 yet lighted up with a yearning for repentance. 
 But pride once humbled, still rules and will not 
 yield to sweeter-voiced humility. The arch-rebel 
 can not rest, yet knows not where to flee. His 
 burning thoughts encompass him with a wall of 
 impassible flame : 
 
 ' ' WhicTi way shall I fly, 
 Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? 
 Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; 
 And in the lowest deep, a lower deep. 
 Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, 
 To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven." 
 
 The remorse of Satan akin to repentance, veils 
 the repulsiveneSs of his nature. He is a devil still, 
 but with something of the angel left in him. 
 
 Coleridge was a dreamer. To him the world of 
 imagination revealed its wonders. He has given us 
 two pictures of remorse. His formal attempt to 
 delineate in tragedy an angered conscience is a fail- 
 ure. But when he drifted away on dreamland's 
 sea, fancy brought before him the glittering eye 
 of the ancient Mariner. Infused with the weird 
 mysticism of its author, glowing with the lustre of 
 supernaturalism, the Rime of the Ancient Mariner 
 sheds forth a ghostly light. Remorse in Coleridge, 
 though purely imxaginative, is yet psychological and 
 moral. The Christian philosopher has taken up the 
 poet's pen. Remorse is insanity. The agony of 
 
258 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 soul which he deHneatesis not only a sketch of retrib- 
 utive justice, it is a speculative fancy. 
 
 Remorse in Byron's poetry is clearly subjective. 
 The types of misery seen in Manfred, in Childe 
 Harold, in all his characters, are not mere fanciful 
 pictures. They represent the living, suffering real- 
 ity — Byron. Early sin had recoiled into his heart, 
 there to be the never decaying germ of agony. 
 The delicate fibre of his nature was a matchless 
 target for the barbed shafts of conscience. There 
 is a pathos in Byron's remorse — the pathos of real- 
 ity. Before him ever walked a tireless phantom. 
 Now the victim yields to his power and the story 
 of Manfred speaks his agony ; now he would thrust 
 him from his sight, and the tales of Venice seem 
 to tell of a light and joyous heart. But the dread- 
 ful undertone of self-accusation sends forth its 
 hideous echo and the song of merriment sinks into 
 voiceless woe. 
 
 ' * There is no tragedy comparable with the tragedy 
 of Byron's own heart," says Castelar. That joyous 
 spirit, which, with a vein of sadness, made Hood's 
 life a melodrama, never smiled on Byron's gloomier 
 lot. Remorse with him was the condition of all 
 thought ; a mood deep-rooted in his nature. Not, 
 as in Shakspeare, in dreams and visions of the 
 night, does the haunting voice of memory ring 
 through his soul, but in the light of busy day. 
 Byron's remorse is beyond repentance. An in- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1878. 259 
 
 pregnable pride has made Manfred contemn the 
 holy words of hope. The sorcerer dies, his last 
 words a defiance of the power of the spirit, an 
 enunciation of a retributive creed : 
 
 ' ' What I have done is done ; I bear within 
 A torture which could nothing gain from them. 
 The mind, which is immortal, makes itself 
 Requital for its good or evil thoughts." 
 
 Terribly has Byron symbolized remorse : 
 
 "The mind that broods o'er guilty woes 
 Is like the scorpion, girt with fire ; 
 In circle narrowing as it goes 
 The flames around their captive close. 
 So writhes the mind remorse has riven, 
 Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven, 
 Darkness above, despair beneath, 
 Around it flame, within it death," 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1879. 
 
 "The Romance of Lord Beaconsfield's Career," 
 Theodore Hand Allen, 
 George Fenner Crumby. 
 
 " Shakspeare, the Poet of Conscience," 
 
 Edward Sandford Burgess. 
 
 " Bryant and Poe: the Lessons of Their Lives and Works," 
 George Earl Dunham. 
 
 "What Poetry owes to a Belief in a Future Life," 
 James Walter Morey. 
 
 "The Heroism of General Jackson," 
 
 Robert Schell Rudd. 
 
 " Labor and Invention." 
 
 THE HEROISM OF GENERAL JACKSON. 
 
 BY ROBERT S. RUDD. 
 
 GREAT names recall great deeds. History in 
 the popular mind is individual names, iso- 
 lated biographies rather than philosophic record of 
 consecutive events. Each epoch has its hero ; 
 a man in whom centres the conscience and purpose 
 of the generation. In 1776 it was Washington, 
 epitome of the personal virtues, resolute courage, 
 and conservative patriotism which inspired his time. 
 In i860 it was Lincoln, incarnation of that spirit ; 
 moderate yet firm, he made the war the vindication 
 of an indissoluble Union. Midway between these 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSyg. 
 
 201 
 
 typical men stands another, whose name is 
 synonymous with two pivotal events in American 
 history. The one the consummation of the work of 
 Washington ; the other the commencement of the 
 labor which Lincoln was to complete ; the Battle 
 of New Orleans and nullification — these are the 
 events ; Andrew Jackson their hero. 
 
 For two years the War of 1812 had dragged its 
 weary length. Though harassed by her war with 
 France, England had constantly defeated our land 
 forces. The Federalists, opposed to the war from 
 the first, grew open in its denunciation. Our 
 Treasury was empty ; our credit impaired ; public 
 sentiment divided when the startling news arrived 
 that Napoleon had been defeated by the allied 
 armies ; and England, now free, had determined to 
 crush America in one grand decisive campaign. 
 
 Soon British fleets hovered off our coasts. The 
 national Capitol was burned, and the Southern 
 coast paralyzed vv^ith apprehension. Men-of-war 
 floated in the Gulf of Mexico, and many a heart 
 v/as chilled when the nev/s came North, "New 
 Orleans is threatened." New Orleans, the lungs of 
 the West and South, was to be wrested from us. 
 Such was the condition of affairs when Andrew 
 Jackson entered the Crescent City. Coming from 
 a guerrilla VN^arfare with discontented Indians, his 
 mettle had been tested without proving his fitness 
 for the impending crisis. He came to a city but 
 
262 THE CLA RK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 recoiilly made part of the United States by }Mir- 
 chase. Its mixed iin-Ainerican popnlatic>n was dis- 
 trustful of itself, aud of doubtful loyalty to a Union 
 which had boui^ht its allei;"iauee. It \\as in a state 
 o{ intense exeiteinent. No steps IkuUhh^u taken to 
 fortify the city, vulnerable by land and river ; no 
 discipline prevailed aniouj;- the raw reeruits ; all 
 was confusion, suspicion, anarchy. A leader was 
 needed, a Cromwell, a \\'arwiek, a \\'illiani of 
 Orange ; and he had come, lie had ccnne worn 
 with disease and fatigue, more tit for the hospital 
 than the field, but with the mien and will of a 
 master. His iron spirit triumphed over disease 
 and trampled upon difficulties. 
 
 From the hour of his arrival the city underwent 
 transformation. As the touch of Midas turned the 
 merest dross to gold, the presence of Andrew 
 Jackson evoked energy and conlidence from the 
 nerveless and despairing citizens, and soldiers 
 learned to lo^ e that gaunt, taciturn man, clad in a 
 shabby blue coat and leather cap. Night and day 
 he inspected the outworks, disciplined the troops, 
 strengthened the fortifications. Watchful, sleep- 
 less, his pale jaundiced face, rigid with unremitting 
 pain, won sympathy and created confidence. 
 
 A month passes ; the eighth of January arrives. 
 The British have determined to force the American 
 lines and march to the city. Contrast the contest- 
 ants. On the one side a land force of 15,000 men 
 
■ EXHIBITION OF iSyg. 263 
 
 fully armed ; perfectly disciplined ; eager for battle ; 
 confident of victory. This regiment is fresh from 
 the fields of the Peninsula ; that marched with vic- 
 torious Wellington into France ; v/hilo these faces 
 were recently illumined by the glare of our burning 
 Capitol. Opposed to them is a motley, untrained, 
 ill-equipped force of 3,500 men — backwoodsmen 
 from Tennessee and Kentucky. Their courage is 
 unquestioned ; their ignorance of warfare complete. 
 But they have a leader who knows no defeat. His 
 invincible will is a bulwark which his veteran an- 
 tagonists have never met. * ' Desperate courage 
 makes one a majority," and it was this spirit which 
 prompted Jackson's reply when the legislature de- 
 manded, ' ' What will you do if defeated .?" ' ' Do .?" 
 he roared, in indignant voice, "do, if I thought the 
 hair of my head knew, I'd cut it off. Go, tell your 
 honorable body that if disaster overtakes me, and 
 the fate of war drives me from my lines to the city, 
 they may expect a warm session." 
 
 Early on the eighth the English are in motion. A 
 dense fog shrouds the field. Steadily the enemy 
 advance. They are within two hundred yards of 
 the extemporized breastworks. There is silence, 
 intense and awful. Suddenly comes a discharge of 
 musketry. An instant more and the whole line is 
 ablaze with deadly fire. The unerring aim of the 
 western hunters is irresitible. The compact lines 
 of English grenadiers are mown to the earth. 
 
264 T^HE CLARK PRIZE ROOK. 
 
 Column after ooluinu of tho achanciui;" onomv is 
 smitten with irretrievable ruin. More quickly than 
 voice can tell, n\ore quickly than eye can see, the 
 battle is over. In a short half hour the iield is a 
 strugi^ling, writhing, ghastly mass. Twenty-live 
 hundred English have fallen, while within the 
 breastworks but iifteen are not rejoicing in the glo- 
 rious victory. New Orlea.ns is saved. The war is 
 over. Tlie decisive blow is gi\en, and the struggle, 
 begun at Lexington, is ended at New Orleans. 
 
 Throughout the country Jackson was hailed as a 
 hero. And was he not .^ History or romance has 
 no spectacle more heroic than this at New 
 Orleans. A man, past his prime, stricken with dis- 
 ease, with irresistible determination, transformed 
 ill-disciplined, unexperienced levies into an army ; 
 and drove back, w^ith terrible slaughter, the proud- 
 est American expedition old England ever equipped. 
 It was not great generalship, perhaps, but it was 
 fertilit}' of resource, personal magnetism, inspiring 
 courage, invincible will, vitalized by pure patriot- 
 ism, and its reward was a victory so complete, so 
 overwhelming, that history has hardly its parallel. 
 This was the heroism of Andrew Jackson at New- 
 Orleans. 
 
 Let us turn to Jackson's civil victories to find a 
 kindred heroism. Twenty years have passed since 
 New Orleans. Twice the popular voice has sum- 
 moned Andrew Jackson to the presidency. In 
 
EXHIBITION OF rSjcj. 265 
 
 politics as in war, his policy has been aggressive ; 
 his administration distinctively personal and char- 
 acteristic. * ' Old Hickory " has become the rally- 
 ing cry of one party, the abomination of the other. 
 On the threshold of his second term, a new issue is 
 thrust into American politics. They call it nulli- 
 fication. The logic of the doctrine is that the Fed- 
 eral Union is a league of independent States ; a 
 cheap contrivance of mock nationality ; a rope of 
 sand. Nullification ! it means secession, disunion, 
 treason. Nullification ! it means an internecine 
 war, a mountain of debts, a desolate land, a million 
 mourning houses, and a decade of bitter sectionism. 
 For several years nullification had been vaguely 
 hinted as a possible solution of the tariff question. 
 Jackson's views were well known. They were epit- 
 omized in the toast of 1830, "the Union, it must 
 be preserved." Although the doctrine had been 
 announced and discussed, the action of South 
 Carolina was a surprise. It was in November, 
 1832, that a body composed of the Haynes, the 
 Pinckneys, the Butlers, unanimously passed the noto- 
 rious ordinance of nullification. The news reached 
 Washington in December. The president was con- 
 fronted by the solemn declaration that if the tariff 
 is enforced "the people of South Carolina hold 
 themselves absolved from all connection with the 
 Union, and will organize a separate government." 
 Close upon the State's proclamation followed its 
 
266 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 governor's ifiery appeal, calling upon all true Caro- 
 linians to resist the Federal power to the last. 
 Andrew Jackson loved the Union. His love was 
 no sudden growth ; no spasmodic sentiment, but a 
 conviction deep rooted in his very being. This at- 
 tack upon the Constitution he had sworn to main- 
 tain, aroused again the latent energy, and colossal 
 will that had triumphed at New Orleans. His con- 
 ception of duty was instinctive ; his decision in- 
 stantaneous. Although his implacable enemy, 
 Calhoun, was the head and front of the offending 
 body, Jackson rose above political prejudice and 
 .personal resentment. His proclamation was con- 
 ceived in a spirit of the sublimest patriotism, sup- 
 ported by unanswerable logic. With bold, resolute 
 hand, he swept aside the cunning sophistries of 
 Calhoun and Hayne. He refuted all their argu- 
 ments, and forstalled many not advanced until i860. 
 He appealed to every sentiment of honor, sectional 
 pride and local prejudice ; and his words ring with 
 sincerity and truth. '*I adjure you," he wrote» 
 ' * as you love the cause of freedom ; as you prize 
 the peace of your country and your own fair fame, 
 retrace your steps. Snatch from the archives of 
 your State the disorganizing edict, bid the conven- 
 tion reassemble and promulgate the expression of 
 your will to remain in the path, which alone can 
 conduct you to safety, prosperity, and honor. Tell 
 them that compared with disunion all other evils 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSjg. 267 
 
 are light. Declare that you will never take the 
 field unless the banner of your country floats over 
 you ; that 3^ou will not be stigmatized when dead, 
 and scorned while living, as the authors of the first" 
 attack upon the Constitution. Its destroyers you 
 cannot be. You may disturb its peace, or cloud its 
 reputation for stability ; but its tranquility will re- 
 turn, and the stain upon the national character will 
 be transferred to remain an eternal blot upon the 
 memory of South Carolina." No compromise was 
 suggested ; no alternative considered. South Caro- 
 lina must submit, and she did. 
 
 Recall the administration of James Buchanan. 
 What a contrast. Where in '32 we find courage, 
 decision, patriotism, we find in '60 timidity, vacil- 
 lation and intrigue. Jackson's whole proclamation 
 breathes indomitable will. It is the same spirit 
 that conquered the Creeks and Seminoles ; that 
 destroyed the centralization of the United States 
 Bank ; that in 181 5 repulsed a nation, and in 1832 
 controlled a State. It was not great statesmanship, 
 perhaps, but it was heroic determination, and it 
 won the day. 
 
 Thus in peace and war did the heroism of Andrew 
 Jackson manifest itself. Not intellectually great ; 
 not mentally the superior of his contemporaries ; 
 he possessed qualities which distinguished him even 
 in the day of Webster, Calhoun and Clay. One 
 word, familiar to the great senatorial triumvirate, 
 
268 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 was unkno^vn to Jackson, compromise. Reared in 
 povert}', he early learned the salutar}^ lesson of 
 self-reliance. Whether as the lawyer, soldier, sena- 
 tor or president, we find him the same simple, in- 
 dependent, honorable man. ' ' I care not for 
 clamor," he once said, "I do what I think right," 
 and his life is the proof. He was ambitious ; but 
 his ambition rested upon virtue. He was prejudiced 
 and partisan ; but it was the prejudice of a strong 
 mind, and his partisanship rose above party ser- 
 vility. He was an autocrat ; but he loved the com- 
 mon people with deep, passionate devotion. He 
 was full of faults, but they were the faults of 
 strength. He was of the people and for the people ; 
 he was their hero. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1880. 
 
 " Garrison and Wilberf orce, " 
 
 Mattoon Monroe Curtis. 
 " The Race Problem in the United States," 
 
 Charles Alexander Gardiner. 
 "The Siege of Antwerp," 
 
 William Morton Griffith, 
 
 Seth Grosvenor Heacock. 
 " 'The Highest Good,' as Taught by English Poets," 
 
 Philip Adam Laing. 
 " Shakspeare's Two Delineations of Mark Antony," 
 
 Walter Barnard Winchell. 
 " England and the First and Last Napoleon." 
 
 THE RACE PROBLEM IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 BY CHARLES A. GARDINER. 
 
 RACE conflict began in the early days of man, 
 and, rolling its destructive waves down the 
 centuries, swept away the most powerful nations 
 of the globe. From the desolated plains of Asia, 
 from the battle-fields of Europe, a cry of anguish has 
 pierced the centuries, imploring man to stay this 
 deadly scourge. The wise and good of antiquity 
 turned their hopes to the future. In some mystic, 
 golden isle, some distant land beyond the sea, they 
 beheld the races of men mingling together in one 
 common brotherhood. 
 
270 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 In this republic are already gathered the most 
 diverse elements of national life. The Indian, 
 proud and haughty ; the negro, dragged from his 
 native land ; the Chinese, swarming our western 
 seaboard ; all merged into one nationality and 
 swayed by the man preeminent, the intelligent, 
 civilized European. Four distinct races, differing 
 in character, color and origin. How these conflict- 
 ing elements can be reconciled, hov/ they may en- 
 joy equal rights in society and government, such are 
 the vast issues of the race problem in America. 
 
 A few centuries ago, the European race first touch- 
 ed these shores. It spread timidly along the Atlantic 
 seaboard, then combining its forces, the homogene- 
 ous elements uniting under one banner, led on by 
 the energetic, aggressive Anglo-Saxon, it broke over 
 the Alleghenies, rolled in mighty inundation through 
 the western prairies, leaped the Rocky Mountains, 
 and was checked only at the Golden Gate of San 
 Francisco. Standing to-day the supreme power in 
 this land, it owes a political, social and ethical duty 
 to the inferior races on this continent. 
 
 Three hundred years ago began our Indian war- 
 fare. A proud, independent people, filled with all 
 the instincts of humanity, refused to bow before 
 European aggression. They asserted their rights, 
 they loved the home of their fathers, they would 
 die rather than submit. Then rang out the cry of 
 ' ' extermination. " It sounded through the colonies, 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1880. 2 7 1 
 
 was caught up by the young repubhc and floated 
 from every outpost on the western frontier. Exter- 
 mination is the logical result of the persistent policy 
 of our national government. See the Indian flee- 
 ing from his New England home ; see him making 
 a last, desperate stand on the Ohio ; see him in 
 Georgia pleading for the graves of his ancestors ; 
 see him hurled beyond the Mississippi ; everywhere, 
 robbed and murdered, denied his rights, and thrust 
 from the pale of civilization. Not content with such 
 outrages, Congress declared the Indian tribe no 
 longer an independent power. Four hundred exist- 
 ing treaties were deliberately broken. To-day the 
 tribe has no legal autonomy. The Indian is denied 
 the courts of justice, denied citizenship, denied the 
 rights of property. He is a being, neither alien nor 
 citizen ; he is a mere child, a ward, a pure anomaly 
 in the American government. How can this nation 
 decry Indian treachery, when it has broken every 
 obligation and violated every treaty } How can it 
 point to a Custer murder, when it goads the In- 
 dian to desperation and leaves no redress but ap- 
 peal to arms } The Indian problem can be solved 
 only on principles of humanity and justice. Call 
 him a doomed race, inferior in intellect and ability, 
 still recognize him as a human being, surround him 
 with civilization, educate and Christianize him, and 
 as soon as he demands a place in our body politic, 
 grant him all the privileges of an American citizen. 
 
272 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Throw open the courts and the Indian will appeal 
 to law, rather than arms ; grant him land in sever- 
 alty, and he will acquire property. Replace forts 
 with schools, and the army with teachers ; let our 
 policy be education, and not annihilation, and the 
 Indian will abandon his barbarous life and become 
 a civilized man. Let citizenship be the highest goal 
 of attainment. To force the ballot to-day upon all 
 classes of Indians is unjust and impolitic. Let it 
 be the ultimate and not the initial point, the end and 
 not the means of his progress. Has he ever refused 
 civilization or rejected humane treatment I Tell 
 me if Revolutionary history does not shine with glori- 
 ous deeds of Indian allies. Tell me if this valley of 
 the Oriskany be not dotted with monuments to In- 
 dian fidelity. Not possible to civilize the Indian ! 
 Is not the Indian Territory, rich in agriculture, filled 
 with schools and colleges, with seminaries and 
 churches, is not this sufficient proof of Indian abil- 
 ity } He can be civilized, he can be educated ; thus 
 qualified, he will become a citizen, superior to thou- 
 sands who swarm upon us from the Old World. 
 Our national honor and duty to God, the claims 
 of a broad. Christian humanity, all constrain us to 
 preserve these last remnants of a once powerful 
 people. 
 
 Far different is the condition of the negro race in 
 America. Imported as a slave, and tolerated as a 
 serf; emancipated, enfrachised, with all his poverty 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1880. 273 
 
 and ignorance, he has been brought face to face 
 with the great problems of national life. What 
 has been the result ? His progress is marvelous. 
 Opposed by prejudice the most bitter and organized, 
 he has acquired property, established schools, en- 
 acted laws, and asserted his power in the national 
 Congress. In fifteen years, he has risen to a higher 
 level, than white serfs of Europe have attained in 
 centuries. Shall the negro be disfranchised .'* No ! 
 For six generations accustomed to society and gov- 
 ernment, he was better qualified to cast his first 
 ballot than are the most advanced Indians of to- 
 day. If a mistake to enfranchise him, what justice 
 in correcting the error, after he has passed his 
 political tutelage } Rather let every energy of in- 
 dividual and state be exercised in founding schools 
 and spreading knowledge. The immediate result 
 will be the increased intelligence and morality of a 
 million illiterate voters. It will dispel the vast 
 cloud of darkness that hangs like a pall over the 
 Southern States. Education and emigration, a re- 
 peated ''exodus" under the softening influence of 
 time, will become prime factors in solving the diffi- 
 culties of the negro race. 
 
 Chinese immigration marks an epoch in human 
 history. Two great streams of migration, starting 
 four thousand years ago, one flowing eastward, the 
 other westward, after belting the globe, now meet 
 and mingle. What shall be the future relations of 
 
2 74 '^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 these two powers, the oldest and the youngest in 
 the family of nations ? Shall America prohibit 
 Chinese immigration ? The present bearings of this 
 question are economic, rather than political. The 
 Chinese are decried as a vicious factor in the 
 community. What danger do we fear t Is it 
 Chinese conservatism } America can receive no 
 greater blessing. Let this nation deal justly. So 
 long as we admit the dregs of Europe ; so long as 
 we welcome the thousands and hundreds of thou- 
 sands, who are pressing through the seaboard towns 
 of the Atlantic, swelling our cities and filling up our 
 great interior ; so long as we welcome the Russian 
 and nihilism, the German and socialism, the French 
 and communism; so long as we maintain our present 
 immigration laws, just so long must we permit 
 Chinese immigration. 
 
 Consider now the practical phases of the race 
 problem. A fundamental tenet of this nation de- 
 clares that all men are created equal. Never was a 
 proposition less true. All men are not created 
 equal. Yet Christianity, permeating every stratum 
 of society, lifting the lower classes from their degra- 
 dation, is guiding man to that perfect life where 
 equality reigns supreme. America is one of God's 
 great agents in this movement. By a war that 
 rocked this continent, we have established equal 
 rights before the law. But mere legal rights do not 
 always ensure political equality ; and without politi- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1880. 275 
 
 cal equality race antagonism will never cease on 
 this continent. The negro is to-day under the ban 
 of political servitude, suffering indignities more ab- 
 ject than when he bore the shackles of slavery. 
 How long will this continue 1 How long shall we 
 brand the Indian and Chinaman as aliens } Until 
 the dominant race conquers its caste, pride ; and 
 annihilates race prejudice. 
 
 This problem involves assimilation. But is 
 assimilation possible } What was ancient Greece, 
 that flourished in the morning of the world ; that 
 built Athens, with its golden temples ; that crowned 
 the Acropolis with grace and beauty ; that dotted 
 the land with shrine and monument ; that blos- 
 somed into the most marvelous civilization of an- 
 tiquity } Was not Greece the home of countless 
 tribes t Were not the warriors of Rome, issuing 
 from the Imperial City and conquering the world, 
 were not they representatives of every nationality } 
 What gave England constitutional liberty ; what 
 makes her a broad, liberal, Christian power.'* The 
 union of distinct races. 
 
 Away with the false plea that political equality 
 requires social amalgamation. Let the sons of 
 Black Hawk and Tecumseh, still wrap about them 
 the stoic mantle of their ancestors; let the negro re- 
 tain his emotional nature, and the Chinaman his 
 Asiatic frugality ; let each race preserve its peculiar 
 characteristics ; but let Christianity lift them all into 
 
276 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 a community of faith ; let an American ballot 
 create in them a national patriotism ; then will 
 "these very characteristics become enduring elements 
 of national stability. 
 
 Ancient rivals in glory, the negro and the Euro- 
 pean ; the only rivals to-day, the European and 
 Mongolian ; what shall prevent the political har- 
 mony and equality of these three races ? What shall 
 prevent their union in one common government ? 
 
 Every nation has a moral mission to perform. 
 Our national duty is twofold. To inferior races, 
 we owe the blessings of civilization, the comforts of 
 society ; above all, the pure gospel of Christianity. 
 To ourselves, our first duty is preservation. If, as 
 the years roll by, the waves of immigration threaten 
 to sink our ship of state ; if on this continent Ger- 
 mans are arrayed against French, English against 
 Irish, negroes against Chinamen ; then our first 
 duty will be to shut down the flood gates, and stop 
 foreign immigration. 
 
 May that necessity never be realized ; may Amer- 
 ica never be closed to the world. As the millions 
 of Europe gaze from their crowded shores ; as the 
 masses of Asia cast longing glances over the sea, 
 may they ever behold this land, the home of freedom, 
 the refuge of all tribes and races ; may it be the 
 shrine of justice, its people speaking one language, 
 reverencing one law, worshiping one God, forever 
 America, the beacon light of humanity. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1881. 
 
 " The Mormons and the United States Government," 
 Robert Wallace Hughes, 
 Herbert Peter White. 
 
 "What the Nineteenth Century owes John Wycliffe," 
 Francis Wayland Joslyn. 
 
 "The Defects and Merits of our Public School System," 
 Lee Sanders Pratt. 
 
 ' ' Savanarola and Wolsey, ' ' 
 
 Clinton Scollard. 
 
 "The Surrender of Cornwallis," 
 
 Alonzo Jay Whiteman. 
 
 "The Historic Results of Glory and Duty." 
 
 THE MORMONS AND THE UNITED STATES GOVERN- 
 MENT. 
 
 BY ROBERT W. HUGHES. 
 
 MORMONISM is the anomaly of the age ; a 
 child of ignorance in the midst of intelligence ; 
 a despotism permitted by a democracy ; an absolute 
 hierarchy in a nation that recognizes no particular 
 faith ; the most abject slavery in a land whose very 
 air makes men free. 
 
 Mormonism was organized in the Empire State 
 on the 4th of April, 1830. It began with six mem- 
 bers. Converts rapidly increased. Its antagonism 
 to existing social and religious institutions, forced 
 
278 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 it continually westward. Finally, beyond the 
 boundaries of civilization, it found a refuge in the 
 valley of the Great Salt Lake. The few thousand 
 fugitives \vho, in the summer of 1847, settled 
 there, have increased until they now number a 
 hundred and fifty thousand, while an equal num- 
 ber are scattered among foreign nations, and their 
 missionaries are in every part of the world. 
 
 The civil power of the church of the Latter-day 
 Saints has kept pace with its numerical growth. 
 Founded by a worthless character, with a stolen 
 manuscript in his hand, and a lie on his lips, it 
 has successfully opposed our institutions, nullified 
 our laws, openly steeped itself in crime, publicly 
 declared its treason to our government, is repre- 
 sented in Congress, and boasts that the nation is 
 pow^erless to prevent its rule. 
 
 The doctrines of Mormonism, which are directly 
 inimical to the United States government, are 
 polygamy, with its attendant evils ; atonement 
 for offences against the church by the destruction 
 of the offender ; and the political rule of the Mor- 
 mon priesthood. 
 
 The Christian home is the foundation of all civil- 
 ized society. Upon its perfection depends the 
 loyalty of the citizen, and the character of the man. 
 The Mormons know no home. The sacred ordi- 
 nance of marriage is made a license for immorality. 
 Man becomes a brute, woman a slave. All the 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1881. 
 
 279 
 
 elevating and ennobling influences of the Christian 
 family are destroyed. 
 
 The deliberate taking of a human life, is, under 
 our laws, a capital offence. For thirty years the 
 Mormons have deluged Utah with innocent blood. 
 The Mountain Meadow and Morrisite massacres, 
 the atrocities confessed by Hickman, and the mur- 
 der of Robinson, Yates, Hatch, Payson, and Bow- 
 man are terrible illustrations of the crimes perpe- 
 trated by these Latter-day Saints. Could the 
 plains, the mountain sides and canons, whose 
 
 " Red-ribb'd ledges drip with a silent horror of blood, 
 And echo there, whatever is ask'd her, answers, ' Death,' " 
 
 tell of the scenes which they have witnessed, we 
 would have a record of horrors, which, for cold- 
 blooded cruelty, not even that of the Inquisition 
 could rival. 
 
 Behind polygamy and the doctrine of blood- 
 atonement stands the system of which they are 
 the fruits — the Mormon priesthood. This is the 
 prolific cause of Utah's evils. The political 
 rule of this arbitrary, despotic, and absolute 
 hierarchy, is the curse of the territory, a 
 danger which even threatens our national life. 
 Ever since the Mormons have had a name, this 
 priesthood has ruled them. At times its power has 
 been modified or abridged ; but ever it has risen 
 again to wider sway and more absolute dictation. 
 In word and deed this priesthood is the declared 
 
2 8o THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 enemy of our government. Hatred and treason 
 against the United States are preached from its 
 pulpits and practiced by its pews. Says the most 
 learned Mormon, Orson Pratt, ''Any people at- 
 tempting to govern themselves by laws of their own 
 making, and by officers of their own appointing, 
 are in direct rebellion against the kingdom of God. " 
 And Mormonism claims to be the kingdom of God 
 on earth. Said Brigham Young, " Our ecclesias- 
 tical government is the government of heaven, and 
 incorporates all governments in earth and hell. 
 It is the fountain, the mainspring, the source of all 
 light, power, and government that ever did or ever 
 will exist." John Taylor, the successor of Brigham 
 Young, at the Mormon church conference, held in 
 Salt Lake City, January 4th, 1880, declared, "Po- 
 lygamy is a divine institution. It has been handed 
 down directly from God. The United States can 
 not abolish it. No nation on earth can prevent it, 
 nor all the nations of the earth combined. I defy 
 the United States. I will obey God. " He asked 
 those who assented to his words to raise their 
 hands. Immediately every hand in the vast throng 
 that filled the tabernacle was lifted. 
 
 Polygamy, murder, treason — these are the crimes 
 of which Mormonism stands arraigned. These 
 offences against humanity, government, and God, 
 are the ordinances through which the Latter-day 
 Saints claim the right of expressing and practicing 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1881. 281 
 
 their religious faith. Evil, in any form, is the enemy 
 of a free government. The crime of Mormonism 
 is doubly insidious and hostile when, with shame- 
 less blasphemy, it is called the fulfilment of divine 
 commands. 
 
 Another evil of Mormonism is suffrage. The 
 Saints are largely of foreign birth, but marriage and 
 not length of residence, proper age, or fealty to the 
 government is the requisite of suffrage. Thus the 
 ballots of an ignorant and fanatical people are cast 
 as their priesthood wills, thereby strengthening and 
 extending its dangerous power. 
 
 Through its cooperative mercantile institution, 
 Mormonism influences, by large patronage, the 
 leading business men at our great centres of trade. 
 Its agents are in every State. They are members 
 of great monied corporations in America and Eu- 
 rope. George Q. Cannon, a polygamist and * ' First 
 Counselor " of the Mormon president, has, for years, 
 been Utah's delegate to Congress. 
 
 It is now thirty-four years since Brigham Young 
 and his followers settled in the valley of the Great 
 Salt Lake. It was said that Mormonism bore 
 within itself the elements of its destruction. But a 
 few ill-clad, half-starved, fanatical fugitives grew 
 to a numerous, wealthy, and dangerous people. 
 Civilization was to purify the country of this pest. 
 But civilization, with its railroads, telegraphs, and 
 all its wonderful amalgamating power, has reached 
 19 
 
282 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 and surrounded Utah ; yet Mormonism remains, in 
 thought and action, more isolated than before. At 
 the death of the ' ' prophet " the church would cer- 
 tainly lose its power and fall in pieces. Brigham 
 Young died. Younger and abler leaders took his 
 place ; and never was Mormonism more united, 
 powerful, and aggressive than now. It is true, the 
 Mormons number, at most, but a hundred and fifty 
 thousand of the nation's fifty millions. But their 
 missionaries are in every land, offering to the igno- 
 rant and destitute a home and plenty. Thousands 
 of these deluded prosel3^tes are arriving annually at 
 Salt Lake City to become the tools of the Mormon 
 church. Already it controls Utah, has the balance 
 of power in Arizona and Idaho, and is rapidly 
 peopling Washington, Montana, Wyoming, New 
 Mexico, and Colorado. At the last election George 
 Q. Cannon, by a brief order, elected the man whom 
 he wished for member of Congress from Idaho. 
 Let the Mormons alone, and, in another score of 
 years, they will control nearly the whole region 
 west of the Rocky Mountains, more absolutely than 
 they now control Utah. None but Mormons could 
 live under this despotism ; and nothing less than a 
 civil war, more terrible and bloody than the Re- 
 bellion, would restore this vast western empire to 
 the government of the Republic. 
 
 Is the nation defenceless against the pernicious 
 aggressions of Mormonism '^. Must we remain in 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1881. 283 
 
 helpless inactivity while all that we hold most dear 
 and sacred is violated and supplanted by this mon- 
 ster of barbarism ? No. The remedies are in our 
 hands. Non-interference has resulted from no ig- 
 norance of facts, no want of proof, no lack of 
 power. No question of law, no doubtful clause of 
 the Constitution, no doctrine of State rights, 
 presents an obstacle to prompt, decisive action. 
 
 The law of 1862 makes polygamy a crime. The 
 Supreme Court of the United States has decided 
 that the law is strictly constitutional. Our Con- 
 stitution guarantees to every State and Territory 
 a republican form of government. Experience has 
 proved that this persistent, malignant evil will yield 
 only to an inexorable remedy. The decisive step 
 is to supplant the political rule of the priesthood. 
 This may be done, either through a commission, as 
 suggested by ex-President Hayes, or by denying the 
 right to vote, hold office, and sit on juries, to those 
 who practice, or uphold any unlawful doctrine of 
 the Mormon church. Statesmen of great wisdom 
 and discernment, and invested with large discre- 
 tionary power, should be placed in authority. Polyg- 
 amy must be suppressed. The great obstacle has 
 been the difficulty in obtaining such proof of plural 
 marriages as the law requires. The ceremony is 
 performed in secret. Witnesses are bound by 
 oaths which even apostate Mormons dare not vio- 
 late. Let Congress make the fact of living together 
 
284 '^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 as husband and wife sufficient evidence, and this 
 obstacle is removed. Men and women already liv- 
 ing in polygamy must separate. Indemnity against 
 punishment should be granted to those who at once 
 comply. The polygamous wives and their children 
 must not be deprived of former support. The 
 children must be legitimized. Personal and property 
 rights must be carefully protected, and the least 
 possible suffering fall upon those who have sinned 
 through ignorance. Rigorous punishment should 
 be inflicted upon all new or persistent offenders. 
 
 Let decisive, unwavering action be taken, and 
 Utah's evils will disappear. If assured of protec- 
 tion, many Mormons would gladly aid in the re- 
 form. While the great body of the people doubt- 
 less are sincere, the leaders know that Mormonism 
 is a fraud. Large numbers of both sexes, among 
 the youth, have begun to breathe the air of a purer 
 civilization. Opinions from the society and press 
 of the non-Mormon world, are waking them to a 
 sense of the degradation and shame in which they 
 live. 
 
 *'Utah is not Turkey or one of the Barbary 
 States." Above it waves the American flag. Into 
 it, from every side, is wafted the atmosphere of in- 
 telligence and freedom. Now is the time to act. 
 Utah must soon become a State. She cannot be 
 admitted as a hierarchai despotism. President 
 Garfield is in favor of determined measures. Let 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1881. 285 
 
 Congress atone for past neglect by giving him 
 prompt, efficient aid. 
 
 Our Constitution must be respected ; our laws 
 enforced ; and their rigor never relaxed until 
 polygamy, and the political rule of the Mormon 
 church, are utterly, and forever, destroyed. Then, 
 and not till then, will the United States govern- 
 ment have fulfilled the duty which it owes to the 
 nation, to humanity, and to God. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1882. 
 
 "Russia's Problem," 
 
 Frederick Lincoln Dewey. 
 "Nelson and Farragut," 
 
 Anthony Harrison Evans. 
 ' ' The Weakness and Strength of the Constitution of the 
 United States," 
 
 Henry Orlando Jones, 
 
 Calvin Noyes Kendall. 
 "The True Place of Great Corporations in a Representa- 
 tive Government," 
 
 WORTHINGTON COGSWELL MiNER. 
 
 '• Shakspeare's Estimate of Greatness and Goodness," 
 
 Herbert Huse Parsons. 
 ' ' Fate and Providence in Literature. 
 
 NELSON AND FARRAGUT. 
 
 BY ANTHONY H. EVANS. 
 
 IT was the year 1798. Napoleon was sweeping 
 everything before him. Already had he con- 
 quered Italy, and, crossing the Tyrol, compelled Aus- 
 tria to make peace. To the east lie the extensive 
 commerce and power of England. The land of 
 the Pharaohs becomes the object of his ambition. 
 Landing with his veterans at Alexandria, he cap- 
 tures it ; and in a few days wins the famous Bat- 
 tle of the Pyramids. The gates of Cairo lie open 
 to the conqueror ; Napoleon is master of Egypt. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1882. 287 
 
 The din of battle had scarcely died away when 
 England's brave admiral appeared at the mouth of 
 the Nile. Here begins his part in the great drama 
 — that drama whose closing scenes shall tell of an 
 exiled Napoleon and of a peaceful Europe. Before 
 him lay the French fleet. Instantly he grasps the 
 situation and promptly orders an attack. Fierce 
 and bitter the conflict ; complete and decisive the 
 victory. Like an electric spark, the news flashes 
 over Europe. Nations vie with each other in do- 
 ing him honor. Well they might ; for he had 
 struck a blow which shook the power of France, 
 checked her most successful general, and fired the 
 courage of the Continental armies. He had reached 
 the pinnacle of a brilliant career. He had become 
 the idol of his country and the terror of his ene- 
 mies. What an eventful life ! At twelve, enter- 
 ing the king's service. At fourteen, a midshipman, 
 braving the climate of the East Indies. At twenty, 
 commander of a brig, and, before he is twenty-one, 
 all the honors of the service in his reach. Sum- 
 moned to the Mediterranean at the close of the 
 French Revolution, he saves Corsica, takes the 
 island of Elba, aids in the destruction of the 
 Spanish fleet off St. Vincent, and finally over- 
 shadows all by his memorable victory over the 
 French. 
 
 Remarkably similar was the life of the heroic 
 American. Like Nelson he was orphaned at an 
 
2 88 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 early age, and thrown upon his own resources. 
 With a mind naturally observant, with a devotion 
 to duty untiring, with a spirit resolute and manly, 
 forty years of ceaseless activity had peculiarly fitted 
 him for his great mission. 
 
 On the morning of the twelfth of April the rebels 
 fired upon Fort Sumpter. Immediately Lincoln 
 calls for troops. Farragut hears that call, and, 
 with breathless anxiety, awaits Virginia's answer. 
 *' God forbid, " says he, "I should raise my hand 
 against the South." At last his adopted State se- 
 cedes. Will he, too, desert the government t Ah, 
 no ! With that stanch patriotism, firmness of 
 character, and decisive promptness so typical of the 
 man, he expresses his intention of ' * sticking to the 
 old flag." 
 
 The events of '6i proved disastrous to the Union 
 army. A substantial victory must be won. The 
 hope of the North must be raised ; the strength of 
 the South weakened. How shall it be done } 
 Who will do it } New Orleans must be captured 
 — New Orleans, the emporium of the South, the 
 portal of supplies to the army. Farragut is to be 
 the hero. Appearing in the Mississippi in the 
 spring of '62, he bends every energy to the task. 
 For five long days the mortars boom, but seem- 
 ingly with no effect, upon the forts on either side of 
 the river. Impatient for the conflict, he deter- 
 mines to run by them. At two o'clock on the morn- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1882. 289 
 
 ing of the twenty-fourth the signal is given, and 
 the anchors are weighed. Proudly the flagship, 
 with its gallant commander, falls into line and 
 wends its way up the river. Passing the obstruc- 
 tions, he runs the forts, conquers the rebel fleet, 
 steams up to New Orleans, compels its surrender, 
 and leaves the American flag floating over the city. 
 What the battle of the Nile was to Nelson, New 
 Orleans was to Farragut. Both were actuated by 
 the same motive and animated by the same spirit. 
 Worshipers at the same shrine, duty was the key- 
 note of their lives. Not like the meteor which 
 flashes through the sky and then vanishes, but like 
 the north polestar, it was an ever true and faith- 
 ful guide. To die at their posts and at peace with 
 their God, was to garner life's richest harvest. It 
 was the patriotism of Leonidas, sacrificing his life 
 for Grecian independence ; the inspiration of John 
 Huss, battling against the Roman church ; the long 
 and patient suffering of Washington during that cold 
 and cheerless winter at Valley Forge. It was 
 thought crystallized into manhood ; bravery im- 
 mortalized ; principle made Godlike. Their un- 
 flinching devotion to duty can be best illustrated 
 by the crowning acts in their lives — the battle of 
 Trafalgar and the battle of Mobile Bay. 
 
 Early in the year 1801 France was at peace; 
 but her avaricious monarch could not rest secure 
 while England ruled the sea. He succeeds in unit- 
 
2go 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ing Russia, Sweden and Denmark to overthrow her 
 supremacy. But his hopes are baffled. Nelson, 
 saihng into the harbor of Copenhagen, frustrates 
 their plans by crushing the naval power of Den- 
 mark. Still the emperor is not content. He plans 
 an invasion. The French fleet is to protect his 
 transports in the Channel. The hero of the Nile is 
 again on the alert, gives chase, and, after pursuing 
 them up and down the seas, blockades them off the 
 coast of Spain. Like an eagle watching its prey, 
 he now waits his opportunity. The fatal morning 
 comes. The flagship leads the way. The hearts 
 of the sailors are all aglow. Suddenly there comes 
 from the Victory a signal, ' ' England expects every 
 man to do his duty." 
 
 * ' Aye, the throb of no battery ever has stirred 
 The world's mighty heart like some stout Eno^lish word, 
 Wherein a brave utterance, sandaled and shod. 
 Has marched down the ages for freedom and God." 
 
 In a moment the gallant Victory is in the thickest 
 of the fight, dealing broadcast her deadly blows. 
 Look ! She's breaking through the enemy's lines. 
 Alas for her brave commander ! Little thought he 
 that he was opening the door upon whose thresh- 
 old he should lay his life. He falls in the heat of 
 the conflict. Wounded and bleeding they bear him 
 away, and gently lay him down to die. Like sweet 
 music comes the victorious cheers of his comrades ; 
 the last guns boom out a mournful requiem ; and 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1882. 
 
 291 
 
 with a fervent *' Thank God, I have done my duty," 
 the soul of the brave Nelson goes home. 
 
 August fourth, 1864, finds Farragut before the 
 forts guarding the entrance to Mobile Bay. Al- 
 ready, through his energy and skill, New Orleans 
 had been captured, Vicksburg surrendered. Fort 
 Hudson capitulated, and the Mississippi opened. 
 At half past five in the morning the order to fall 
 into line is given and answered. The cheery voices 
 of the sailors are hushed into painful stillness. 
 Firmly the men stand at their guns eagerly waiting 
 for action. Moments seem ages. Suddenly there 
 comes over the sea the booming of guns. At seven 
 o'clock the battle is raging. The scene becomes 
 sublime ; while over the rattle and roar are heard 
 the shouts from the flagship as she drives her 
 broadsides into the rebel batteries. Now she is 
 within the range of the enemy's gunboats. The 
 leading ship suddenly stops and reverses steam. 
 The vessels in the rear press forward. Confusion 
 follows and disaster seems imminent. Where is 
 the man for the emergency t There, lashed to the 
 maintop of the Hartford. Quick as flash he sees 
 the danger, passes the Brooklyn, assumes the head 
 of the line and leads the fleet to victory. The dif- 
 ficulty is overcome. The ships resume their order, 
 and with terrible cannonade soon silence the rebel 
 batteries. The hope of the Confederates now cen- 
 tres upon the gunboats, but alas for their trust ! 
 The white flag appears at the turret of the rebel 
 
292 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 ram Tennessee, and as the sun goes down, the bat- 
 tle of Mobile Bay passes into history. 
 
 As the painter delights to portray the well-de- 
 veloped and symmetrical form, so the historian 
 loves to dwell upon the lives and deeds of illus- 
 trious men. It is neither fame nor honor that 
 makes the world's heroes, but action inspired by a 
 lofty sense of duty. No two men ever accom- 
 plished more in their spheres than Nelson and Far- 
 ragut. As commanders they were prompt, deci- 
 sive ; the one more daring and dashing, the other 
 more deliberate and careful. As men, they were 
 types of gentleness, kindness, and sturdy manhood ; 
 the life of the one, marred by licentiousness, that of 
 the other pure and holy. As patriots, both stand 
 out on the page of history with a record unsullied, 
 with their grand missions accomplished, with their 
 trusts nobly fulfilled ; the one fighting for British 
 supremacy, inspired by the cheers of a united peo- 
 ple and the hearty sympathy of his kindred ; the 
 other abandoning home, friends, and State, with 
 duty as his soul's inspiration, and God as his guide, 
 that the blest flag of our Union might once more 
 wave in triumph over every foot of American soil. 
 
 As a reward for valorous deeds, pagan Rome dei- 
 fied her heroes. Christian England and America, 
 with a sentiment no less loyal, with a gratitude none 
 the less enduring, and v/ith a memory as unswerv- 
 ing, crown Nelson and Farragut with ihe laurel and 
 the immortelle. ^ 
 
SUBJECTS OF 1884. 
 
 "The State and the Convict." 
 
 •' The Services of William T. Sherman in the Civil War." 
 "The Tragedy of Thought, and the Tragedy of Passion in 
 Shakspeare." 
 
 "Four Scenes Illustrative of the Good and the Evil in Bene- 
 dict Arnold's Career." 
 
 "Napoleon Bonaparte and Martin Luther as -Representative 
 
 Forces in History." 
 " Byron and the Greek Revolution of 1821." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1885. 
 
 "The Power of a State as Determined by Manufacture and 
 by Commerce," 
 
 Udelle Bartlett. 
 " The Battle of Monmouth," 
 
 Wager Bradford. 
 "Hildebrand and Cromwell," 
 
 Samuel Potter Burrill. 
 " Shakspeare's Representations of the Human Will," 
 
 William Addison Lathrop. 
 " The Railway in American Politics," 
 
 Emory Wood Ruggles. 
 "The Mission of Thomas Carlyle," 
 
 Irving Francis Wood. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 BY wager BRADFORD. 
 
 ON a raw November morning, not many months 
 ago, the people of New Jersey gathered to 
 dedicate a monument to their heroic dead. That 
 granite shaft commemorates one of the most stub- 
 born of revolutionary battles. It tells of a peaceful 
 Sabbath turned to a day of wrath, of God's sweet 
 sunshine dimmed by the smoke of war, of patriot- 
 ism battling for a principle, of sublime self-sacrifice, 
 even unto death. Upon its site, where now the 
 busy life of Monmouth ebbs and flows, Washington 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88s. 303 
 
 withstood the shock of battle and v/rested victory 
 from seeming defeat. 
 
 Go back to the twenty-seventh of June, seven- 
 teen seventy-eight, and stand at evening, beneath 
 the hntel of Monmouth's ancient courthouse ; in the 
 waning twihght, an army's tents show white against 
 the earth, and the rude voices of a camp disturb the 
 quiet of the summer night. Five miles away the 
 scene repeats itself ; another wayworn army halts 
 and sleeps. 
 
 The British under Clinton had evacuated Phila- 
 delphia, and were retreating through New Jersey. 
 For ten days the army had dragged its serpentine 
 length northward, and for ten days, Washington, 
 like a gathering storm, had hung upon its flank. On 
 the eve of Saturday, the twenty-seventh, the British 
 reach Monmouth. On the Sabbath morning that 
 follows, the pent-up fury of the tempest breaks. 
 
 Weary of pursuit, Washington determined to 
 force a battle with the reluctant foe. Lee was or- 
 dered to advance at daybreak, fall on the British 
 rear, and bring the chase to bay. Washington, 
 after the first cannonade, would hasten forward 
 with the main army and bring on a general engage- 
 ment. 
 
 The mists of early morning still hovered over 
 wood and field, when Lee and the gallant Wayne 
 rode forward to reconnoitre. Before them stretched 
 the plain of Monmouth, and, lo ! upon its ample 
 
304 T^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 green was marshaled all the "pomp and circum- 
 stance of glorious war." To the stern music of the 
 fife and drum that royal host moved on ; squadron 
 after squadron swept into line, with bayonets flash- 
 ing in sunlight and banners tossed by the fitful 
 morning breeze. 
 
 Upon this stately quarry Wayne let loose the 
 dogs of war, and soon the baying of their iron 
 throats told Washington the battle was begun. 
 Thus far his plans were realized, and all seemed 
 well. But Mars is fickle, like his sister Fortune. 
 As Lee advanced to Wayne's support, the entire 
 British rear wheeled and met him face to face. The 
 aid-de-camp of the king of Poland had little relish 
 for such odds. As the grenadiers advanced, his faith 
 in patriot courage wavered, and fairly quailing, he 
 ordered a retreat. 
 
 Washington had dismounted and was watching 
 his columns as they swept along the road. The 
 heat was stifling, but he knev/ it not ; with eager 
 ear he listened to the welcome roar of battle. It 
 rose and swelled, and then grew faint and fainter, 
 until an ominous silence settled on the sultry air. 
 Anxiously he waited. What could it mean, this 
 fatal quiet } Suddenly a horseman dashing up ex- 
 claimed : "The Continentals are retreating!" 
 It seemed incredible ; there had been but little 
 firing ; Lee had sent no messenger. Would a vet- 
 eran general pour five thousand troops upon the re- 
 serve without a word of warning } 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1883. 305 
 
 A dark suspicion flashed through the mind of 
 Washington. Lee had vehemently opposed his 
 plans. Could this retreat be premeditated } His 
 face was awful in its wrath. Springing to his sad- 
 dle he swept like a whirlwind up the narrow road. 
 Before his eyes there rose the past, the present, aye, 
 and the future ! Was it for this that Valley Forge had 
 been endured ; that Steuben, through winter cold 
 and summer heat had drilled his half-clad troops ; 
 that Franklin had won the aid of France, and he 
 himself suffered the venomous malice of the cabal .'* 
 Defeat meant ruin. Had that ruin come } The 
 passion ever slumbering in his mighty soul flung 
 back defiance in the teeth of fate. From Lee's de- 
 feat his hand should wrest a victory. His anger 
 kindled as he rode. Reining his foaming horse at 
 last, with face suffused and blue eyes flashing fire 
 and voice that stung his hearer like a blow : ' * For 
 God's sake. General Lee," he cried, " what means 
 this ill-timed prudence T Staggered for a moment, 
 Lee at length replied : * ' These Continentals can 
 not face the British troops." ''They can, and they 
 shall !" thundered Washington. Turning, he 
 spurred among the retreating columns, and by his 
 simple presence brought them to a halt. ' ' Long 
 live Washington !" burst from the army's lips, and 
 as the shout of welcome rang along the lines, the 
 hero knew the day might yet be saved. As by 
 magic doubt gave way to confidence, confusion 
 
3o6 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 changed to order. Spurring in front of Osgood and 
 Stewart's regiments, he said : ' ' On you I depend 
 to check this pursuit." Ramsay, in the vanguard 
 with the artillery, he bade defend his position to 
 the last. Throughout the lines the determined 
 presence and decisive words of the leader roused 
 new courage. Order once restored, the generous 
 impulses of Washington's great soul triumphed 
 above suspicion. Riding back to Lee, and point- 
 ing to the steady columns he had marshaled, he 
 said : ' ' Sir, will you command these troops ?" 
 ' ' Yes, " was the answer, ' ' nor will I be the first to 
 leave the field." 
 
 Once more the battle opened. With front un- 
 yielding as the brows of fate the British advance. 
 Foot by foot they drive the patriots back ; yet, 
 still with lines unbroken, the raw militia face the 
 grenadiers. In the front ranks Ramsay mans his 
 guns, nobly defending the trust imposed upon him. 
 But now, the mad horses of the royal guards are 
 dashed in headlong charge upon that stubborn line. 
 Before the shock it wavers, trembles, would have 
 broken, but at that instant Washington hurls for- 
 ward the reserve. On the left and right the guns 
 of Stirling and of Knox pour in their fire, while on 
 the centre ' ' Mad Anthony Wayne " falls like a 
 thunderbolt. The spirit of their glorious leader is 
 in every patriot heart ; each soldier is a hero ; nay, 
 in that stern hour, woman forgot the gentle ties of 
 peace, and all untrained took up the art of war. 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSSj. 307 
 
 Moll Pitcher, bringing water for the thirsty gun- 
 ners, saw her husband fall beside his piece. "I 
 will avenge his death," she cried, and springing to 
 the gun she snatched the lan3^ard, and with her 
 woman's hand drove home the charge. All through 
 the action ' ' Captain Molly " fought that gun. 
 Could man retreat where woman held her ground } 
 Before the iron hail of Knox and Stirling, and the 
 furious charge of Wayne, the flower of England's 
 soldiery breaks and flees. In vain Monckton rallies 
 his troopers ; in vain the desperate charge, the 
 splendid stand, the heroic death. The battle of 
 Monmouth is lost, and won. 
 
 The shadows lengthen on the eastern hills, 
 the lurid sun sets in a sky of blood, and pitying 
 darkness steals across the plain to wrap her sable 
 shroud about the dead. Washington on the mor- 
 row would have renewed the struggle, but at mid- 
 night the British stole away so softly that the pa- 
 triot sentinel heard no footfall. 
 
 Monmouth was peculiarly a national victory. 
 There had been many battles of the North or 
 South, but here were represented all the ' ' Old 
 Thirteen." Sons of New England, troopers from the 
 Carolinas, Virginia's chivalry, patriots from every 
 colony fought side by side against the common 
 foe. On this field, too, were the main armies of 
 both belligerents, led in person by their commanders 
 in chief. The moral effects of such a victory can 
 not be overestimated. From that battle-field 
 
3o8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 stretched * 'mystic chords of memory" to the hearth- 
 stones all over the land. A common victory knit 
 more closely the bonds of a common interest, in- 
 spired the national courage and proved the strength 
 of unity. The battle of Monmouth did not, like 
 Hastings, or Sedan, decide the fate of a nation. 
 It was rather negative in its results. The Conway 
 cabal had sought to injure Washington before the 
 people ; Monmouth enshrined him in their very 
 hearts ; Franklin had j ust secured the aid of France ; 
 Monmouth strengthened and sealed the French 
 alliance ; Brandywine and Valley Forge had cast 
 a shadow over the nation ; the British seemed in- 
 vincible, the struggle hopeless ; at Monmouth the 
 shadow was lifted and Steuben's discipline shattered 
 forever the boasted superiority of the English. 
 
 A hundred years have strangely changed the plain 
 of Monmouth. The sluggish village has become 
 the busy town. The whistle of the locomotive now 
 sounds the reveille, and the din of trade succeeds 
 the rattle of musketry. Time has dealt kindly 
 with the wounds of v/ar, and the once crimsoned 
 plain smiles again with the green of its meadows 
 and the russet gold of the harvest. There is no 
 hint of murderous conflict, save in the shaft that 
 marks the battle-place. But though the heroes of 
 that bygone day have long been silent, and the 
 cannon's roar is hushed among the fair New Jersey 
 hills, yet while we keep our freedom, there needs 
 no granite to bid Americans remember Monmouth, 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1886. 
 
 *'Tlie Faust of the Legend and the Faust of Goethe," 
 
 Edward Fitch. 
 * Louis XL and Charles the Bold," 
 
 William Horace Hotchkiss. 
 ' Saxon and Slav in Asia," 
 
 James Beveridge Lee, 
 
 Stephen Sicard. 
 *' Creed and Character," 
 
 John Sergeant Niles. 
 ' ' Legislation as a Means of Suppressing Vice, ' ' 
 
 Harry Brainard Tolles. 
 'Bismarck and German Unity." 
 
 SAXON AND SLAV IN ASIA. 
 
 BY JAMES BEVERIDGE LEE. 
 
 TWO types of European civilization divide the 
 attention of thinking men. Both are powerful 
 and aggressive. Each is supported by a monarchy 
 w^hose towering strength has long been the wonder 
 of mankind. 
 
 In the north and east of Europe, midway between 
 the perpetual Arctic snows, and the perpetual sum- 
 mer of the tropics, Russia stretches her vast ex- 
 panse. In the west, washed by the German Ocean 
 and the Atlantic, and sundered from the Continent, 
 lies Britain. The national character of the one is 
 
3IO THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 harsh and forced. She is haughty, dictatorial, cruel, 
 and her slightest breath bodes terror to the map of 
 Europe. The character of the other is the out- 
 growth of her inherent vitality. Bold, philan- 
 thropic, progressive, everything it touches throbs 
 with new activity. 
 
 These two civilizations sprang from the convul- 
 sive throes of disorganized tribal life of the ninth 
 century. To the one the Angle gave the name, the 
 Jute a Christianity, the Saxon a royal dynasty, and 
 the England of Alfred the Great began her national 
 career. To the other the tenacious will of the 
 Muscovite bequeathed a unity, gave it the religion 
 and dynasty of the Slav, and the Russian empire 
 rose on the banks of the Dnieper. Subsequent 
 history of the Saxon and the Slav, is the record of 
 national progress. To-day they are mighty em- 
 pires, rival ''stars" upon the theatre of the world. 
 
 Saxon spirit early felt cramped in its island 
 home. Destiny forbade a hold upon the Continent, 
 and baffled all designs upon America, save in the 
 icy north. She turns her eyes to the riches of the 
 East. The India Company surrenders its charter 
 to the crown. The sunlight of Christianity breaks 
 through the darkness of Mohammed and of Brahm, 
 and the genius of western civilization, kindles new 
 reflections among the crumbling splendors of the 
 Orient. The trading post expands to a mighty de- 
 pendency. Rebellion follows, ^ but, so far from 
 
EXHIBIT ION OF 1886. 
 
 311 
 
 checking, adds to the fame of British arms. Ex- 
 tension is inevitable. The Punjab is annexed, and 
 the whole Indus valley turns its treasures into the 
 English mart. The red territorial line now leaps 
 from peak to peak among the Himalayan snows, 
 and sweeps along the Soleiman summits ; while 
 the shadow of British power falls far beyond into 
 the valleys of central Asia. 
 
 To the Slav, bound up in his icy fastnesses, the 
 land of summer has always been a Utopia. As the 
 Goths and Vandals poured down and overwhelmed 
 Rome, so, since the days of Peter the Great, have 
 the Muscovite legions swept southward in their re- 
 sistless forays. This historic desire for conquest, 
 modified and organized by civilization, exhibits itself 
 to-day in Russia's eagerness for territorial aggran- 
 dizement. In Europe she has swallowed Courland 
 and Livonia, Finland, Poland and the Crimea, and 
 is gazing, with covetous eye, beyond the Danube 
 to the Golden Horn, longing for the time when the 
 cross shall supplant the crescent upon the minarets 
 of St. Sophia. 
 
 In Asia, waterless steppes and arid deserts long 
 offered insurmountable barriers to Slavonic exten- 
 sion. Even as late as the eighteenth century, the 
 Ural and the Irtish marked its southern limit. In 
 1863 the blue line ran from the Issik Kul, along the 
 Chu, to the Aral Sea. It hardly paused here. The 
 Ak-Kum sands are passed, and a new boundary is 
 
312 1HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 marked by a chain of Russian forts along the Jax- 
 artes. The Kizil Kum desert offers no resistance 
 to the aggression, and the Cossack of the Don 
 plants the Russian standard in the sacred waters of 
 the Oxus. Meanwhile a movement in the west, 
 which had been held in check for half a century at 
 the Caucasus, prevails. Georgia is conquered ; the 
 Caspian Sea made a Russian lake ; and the two 
 lines of conquest move forward in concert. Khiva 
 is subjugated, Bokhara absorbed, and the city of 
 Merv becomes, in '84, the strategic outpost. 
 
 Falling down from the snow-covered steeps of 
 the Afghan Mountains are innumerable rivulets 
 which unite to form Murghab river. As it sweeps 
 along in its steady current, it spreads civilization 
 in its path. Populous cities and thriving towns 
 crowd its banks. When it reaches Merv, it sepa- 
 rates into a multitude of mouths, sinks from view, 
 and is lost among the sands of the desert. For 
 years England regarded this great tide of Russian 
 conquest, colonization and civilization as another 
 Murghab, which, when it should reach Merv and 
 the Kara Kum would scatter and disappear. Re- 
 peatedly, warning voices were raised to dispel this 
 illusion, but the optimistic legislators of the Thames 
 scoffed at the thought of danger on the Indian 
 frontier. 
 
 In 1838 England, for a brief moment, awoke 
 from her lethargy. The Russo-Persian attack upon 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1886. 3 1 3 
 
 Herat alarmed her. A British army crossed the 
 Indus, surmounted the Cashmere Mountains, entered 
 Afghanistan by the Bolan Pass, blew open the 
 gates of Ghuznee, compelled the submission of 
 Cabul and Candahar, renewed the loyalty of Herat, 
 and restored the honor and prestige of the British 
 name in central Asia. Had England retained the 
 position she then occupied, all would have been 
 well. British India would have been surrounded 
 upon the north by a cordon of independent states ; 
 Russian advance would have been checked at Merv, 
 and all vexatious complications avoided. The re- 
 trenchment of shortsighted Liberals rendered this 
 impossible, and the recall of British troops in 
 '80 was the signal for Russian advance. While 
 all eyes are intently watching the Soudan, the 
 Afghan frontier is crossed, Sarakhs falls, Penjdeh 
 yields to the invader, and Russian videttes stand 
 within sight of Herat. England is amazed. She 
 springs to her feet in alarm. All is bustle and 
 anxiety in Downing street. Maps of Afghanistan 
 are eagerly sought. Liberal and Conservative 
 unite in studying the crisis. The Conservative 
 calls loudly for war. England's diplomatic corres- 
 pondence is couched in imperious terms. Stocks 
 fall in the London Exchange. In the Paris Bourse 
 there is a like depression. The public clamors for 
 war. All England is ablaze. Indian troops hurry 
 to the front. British reserves embark for India. 
 21 
 
314 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 The fleet in the Thames stands ready to sail. All 
 ears are listening for news from the czar, and the 
 world holds its breath. But correspondence from 
 the Neva is pacific, and exhibts no eagerness for 
 an Asiatic battle-ground. The ardor of the Con- 
 servative cools, and the Liberal cause is strength- 
 ened. Peace measures finally prevail. The ad- 
 vance to Penjdeh is explained, and Saxon and Slav, 
 throwing down their arms, leave the Boundary 
 Commission to adjust their difficulties. 
 
 The lull of a year in the turmoil of Asiatic poli- 
 tics has given to the world ample time in which to 
 review the details of the Anglo-Russian question. 
 Geographical names, a few months ago unknow^n, 
 except in diplomatic circles, have now a significance 
 to the common ear. Vague and unjust ideas of 
 Russian government have been dispelled by facts. 
 Absolutism and autocracy have been stripped of 
 their imaginary terrors, and Russia is seen to be 
 what she really is. The movement in Asia is found 
 to be the triumph of law over chaos, of civilization 
 over barbarism. 
 
 While the world is ready to allow the claims of 
 Russia as a civilizing power, it cannot blind its 
 eyes to the inevitable outcome of the Anglo-Rus- 
 sian question. When we see the troops of the 
 czar moving along the same route by which Alex- 
 ander the Great led his forces to the conquest of 
 Hindostan ; when we remember the ominous 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1886. 3 1 5 
 
 words of Napoleon, uttered in the silence of St. 
 Helena, foretelling the Russian as the ruler of India, 
 and when we hear the Muscovite war-cry, ' ' On to 
 Herat!" '*On to Herat!" we realize that we are 
 standing in the portentous shadows of coming events. 
 It is idle to say that Russia has no designs upon India. 
 The present patched up peace upon the Afghan 
 borders is but a preparation for the final onset. 
 When all is ready, England must yield. Herat is not 
 invincible, nor is the Indian frontier impassable. Let 
 Russia control Herat, let her gain possession of this 
 fortress, the acknowledged ' ' key to India, " and 
 further resistance will be fruitless. The Muscovite 
 will not then resist the fascination. The Cossack, 
 sweeping through the Bolan Pass, will conquer the 
 sepoy. British India will become Russian, and 
 the ' ' white padishah of the Neva " will make the 
 capital of his Eastern empire at Calcutta. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1887. 
 
 " The Strength and Weakness of Culture," 
 
 Sherman William Browne, 
 Charles Buckingham Cole. 
 
 "Lessing," 
 
 Henry James Hemmens, 
 Albert Beardslee Judson. 
 
 "The Mexican Fiasco of Napoleon III.," 
 
 John Putnam Montross. 
 
 " The Huguenot in America," 
 
 Frank Huson Robson. 
 
 " The Use of the Imagination in the Perception of Truth." 
 
 " Legislation as a Remedy for Industrial Evil." 
 
 THE STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS OF CULTURE. 
 
 BY CHARLES B. COLE. 
 
 M 
 
 ANKIND has always been on the outlook for a 
 universal panacea. Once it was the ' ' Philoso- 
 pher's Stone ;" then that wonderful ** Elixir of Life," 
 which was to cure ' ' all the ills that flesh is heir 
 to." 
 
 To-day there is a new discover}/ ; a new claimant 
 to the world's admiration and gratitude appears on 
 the scene. He announces that he has found the one 
 thing needful to perfect modern civilization, to re- 
 deem us from its groveling m.at^rialism and to raise 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1887. 3 1 7 
 
 us to the fullest degree of development of which 
 the race is capable. 
 
 Therefore are many claims made for this new 
 element that is to rule the world. Science and lit- 
 erature are already its bondsmen. The throne of 
 religion must be declared vacant ; the world must 
 cry, ' ' The king is dead ; long live the king, " as 
 culture, with imperial state, enthrones itself — the 
 ruling force of modern life. 
 
 Matthew Arnold, this modern prophet of culture, 
 clearly seeing its strength, but blind to its weak- 
 ness, has magnified immensely its just claim to 
 thoughtful consideration. And yet, there must be 
 some force in this nev/ doctrine, for the preacher of 
 the gospel of culture has won many an earnest and 
 talented disciple. 
 
 Let one of these define his creed, and he would 
 say, * ' Culture is the study of perfection ; its mot- 
 toes, 'to render an intelligent being yet more intel- 
 ligent,' and 'to make reason and the will of God 
 prevail ;' its ultimate rule, ' let your whole nature 
 expand up to the very utmost of which it is capable 
 in every direction.' This perfection is not an ex- 
 ternal good, but an internal condition, — a growing 
 and a becoming, not a resting and a having ; in 
 short, it is * a harmonious expansion of all the 
 powers of the human soul.' " 
 
 Arnold finds two marked' tendencies in human 
 life, that toward action and that toward thought ; 
 
3i8 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 as the one is the ideal of the Jew, and the other of 
 the Greek, he calls the former Hebraism, the latter 
 Hellenism. ' ' The force that encourages us to 
 stand stanch and fast by the rule and ground 
 that we have, is Hebraism, the force which encour- 
 ages us to go back upon this rule, and to try the very 
 ground upon which we appear to stand, is Hellen- 
 ism." 
 
 The one represents energy, duty, earnestness, 
 self-control, the obligation to work ; the other 
 ardent sense, intelligence, the indomitable impulse 
 to know. The world seems to adapt first one of 
 these tendencies, then the other. As long as Greek 
 ideals ruled the ancient world, Hellenism was the 
 dominant power. With the introduction of Chris- 
 tianity, however, its reign closed, and, for a thou- 
 sand years, the world followed the Hebrew ideal. 
 The Renaissance was the revival of Hellenism, Pu- 
 ritanism the reappearance of Hebraism. 
 
 From the days of Cromwell and Milton, the 
 world has been developing the moral side of its na- 
 ture at the expense of the intellectual. Now 
 Arnold sa3^s, is the time for less of fire and strength, 
 the Hebrew levers, and for more of ' ' sweetness and 
 light," the means by which the Hellenist would 
 move the world. 
 
 But, neither Hellenism nor Hebraism is the law 
 of human development ; each is a contribution to 
 it ; if either is omitted the result must lack com- 
 
EXHIBITION OF 18S7. 3 1 g 
 
 pleteness. When both elements combine, each re- 
 ceiving its due share of honor, they will make the 
 man of the future an ideal being, perfect in all 
 things, in so far as humanity can be perfect. 
 
 Culture is both strong and weak, strong in that 
 it shows us our weakness, weak in that it would 
 deprive us of our strength. 
 
 Culture and the ideal it places before us, shows 
 us the insufficiency, the narrowness, the incom- 
 pleteness of modern life. It says plainly that the 
 man who is content with his daily life, feels no im- 
 pulse toward a higher, nobler law of living, is not 
 a man, but a mere machine. Culture, by demand- 
 ing from him a complete development of all the 
 powers with v/hich he has been endowed, would 
 place before him such a lofty ideal that, in striving 
 to attain it, he would rise by the stepping-stone of 
 a dead self to a better, purer life. Herein lies the 
 great strength of culture. It leads to a higher per- 
 sonal life. It promises to perfect mankind by per- 
 fecting individuals. Its progress will be almost im- 
 perceptible. As the mighty ocean, under a silent, 
 unseen influence, rises higher and higher along its 
 shores, so the tide of human endeavor and attain- 
 ment, under the influence of culture, would gain 
 heights hitherto undreamed of. Such is the glorious 
 promise of culture ; will it, can it keep it .'* 
 
 Will human nature, under the influence of cul- 
 ture alone, become better } Do we find the most 
 
320 
 
 IHE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 cultivated men exhibiting the most virtue ? Is it 
 not a fact that the most thorough cuUure is con- 
 sistent with the most thorough egotism ? 
 
 Paradox it may seem, but fact it is, that the im- 
 mense advantages which culture has conferred, are 
 largely neutralized, in many cases outweighed, by 
 the blinding influence of a subtler, deeper, more 
 comprehensive selfishness, a selfishness that would 
 lead culture to despise the poet who says : 
 
 "The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, 
 Is not to fancy what were fair in life, 
 Provided it could be — but finding first 
 What may be, then find how to make it fair 
 Up to our means — a very different thing ! 
 No abstract intellectual plan of life, 
 Quite irrespective of life's plainest laws, 
 But one, a man, who is a man and nothing more, 
 May live within a world." 
 
 The strength of culture must be supplemented by 
 the moral purpose to use that strength for the good 
 of mankind, or else its strength becomes its great- 
 est weakness. Culture, in itself, is electricity in 
 the clouds, powerful but useless ; culture, united 
 with moral purpose, is electricity in the fine-drawn 
 wire, the trained and obedient servant of man. 
 
 The weakness of culture must be turned into 
 strength by substituting altruism for egotism. The 
 predominent self of the cultured man must disap- 
 pear and in its place must reign the maxim, ' ' Do 
 good to all men as ye have opportunity." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1887. 321 
 
 And yet, when the strength of culture is sup- 
 plemented and its weakness turned into virility, 
 even then it is powerless to advance the world; for 
 this there is needed something more than the mere 
 intellectual power that comes from culture. For ' ' a 
 people may be very cultivated and yet very corrupt. 
 A government maintains itself in permanent power, 
 not by the cultivated, nor by the wealth, nor by 
 the number of its subjects, nor by the extent of its 
 territory, but only by the virtue which reigns in its 
 subjects' hearts. But the virtue of a people will 
 never rise higher than their religious faith requires. 
 Virtue is the fruit of religion, and religion is its only 
 root." But what if culture becomes a people's re- 
 ligion } Can it take the place of Christianity } Could 
 culture write a Pilgrim's Progress, a Paradise Lost, 
 or a Divine Comedy 1 Can any development of the 
 social, aesthetic or intellectual nature of man make 
 up for a lack of moral development } Can any be- 
 lief that says that morality is a part of the human 
 beauty of spirit, rather than an eternal obligation, 
 be substituted for the ' ' law and the prophets " .'* 
 When goodness is no longer an end in itself, may 
 not justice and honor be regarded as obligatory 
 only in the childhood of man } Can culture's ' ' power 
 not ourselves, that makes for righteousness " ever 
 supplant the eternal, omnipotent Jehovah } The 
 decisive "No," these questions compel, annihilates 
 culture's claim to rule the advance of the world. 
 
322 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 And yet, while culture must give up its pretense 
 to preeminence, it still remains a wonderfully pow- 
 erful factor in modern life. 
 
 Christianity and culture, as sun and satellite, as 
 sovereign and subject, can do a mighty work in the 
 regeneration of this uncultivated and irreligious 
 world. 
 
 In the hands of a master that can give it ethical 
 principle, culture, like the iron servant of Sir Artegal, 
 could make straight the way of his lord, crush all 
 the hideous forms of vice and wrong with the mighty 
 blows of his iron flail, banish the foul exhalations 
 which, in the guise of high ideals, mislead strug- 
 gling humanity ; it would bridge the ' ' Slough of 
 Despond," make radiant the *' Valley of the Shad- 
 ow," until at last, master and servant stand side by 
 side upon the summit of the ** Delectable Moun- 
 tains. " 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1888. 
 
 "The Life and Death of Lavoisier," 
 
 John Edward Everett. 
 
 "Poetry as a Teacher of Patriotism," 
 
 Gary Miller Jones, 
 Abraham Lincoln McAdam, 
 Hiram Albert Vance. 
 
 "The New Birth of Japan," 
 
 Albert Remington Kessinger. 
 
 " Goethe and Carlyle," 
 
 William Harder Squires. 
 
 "The Rewards of Political Righteousness." 
 
 "Bulgaria." 
 
 POETRY AS A TEACHER OF PATRIOTISM. 
 
 BY ABRAHAM L. MCADAM. 
 
 AMONG the men of every age, there have been 
 those who have stood preeminent as the 
 moulders of human character ; who, by their teach- 
 ings or by their acts, have given color to the thought, 
 sentiment and life of subsequent generations. In 
 every department of human activity we trace the 
 ruling hand, the master mind, which has shaped for 
 better or for worse, those elements, which, woven 
 at the ceaseless ''loom of time," constitute the 
 many-colored fabric of modern civilization. 
 
 As a means by which this ultimate end has been 
 
324 '^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 attained, poetry has played no unimportant part ; 
 it has been the form of the most lofty in literature, 
 at once the groundwork and expression of the best 
 in music and art, and the embodiment of the most 
 beautiful in religion. Through this medium have 
 the greatest minds sought to elevate mankind with 
 their grandest conceptions ; from this, as a source, 
 has been drawn the inspiration of artist and musi- 
 cian, in works which are as truly poetry as were the 
 ideas that suggested them. 
 
 Apart from this mission of poetry in elevating the 
 morals and refining the sensibilities, there is another 
 and not less worthy end which it subserves — an 
 end which poetry, as the language of intense feel- 
 ing, is best able to promote — that love of place, 
 principle and country, called patriotism ; that de- 
 votion which prompts men to forsake all, even life, 
 for fatherland ; that spirit which forms a vital prin- 
 ciple in every nation worthy of the name. 
 
 In nearly all primitive nations the bard occupied 
 a place little inferior to that of the ruler himself. 
 His position was unique. Reverenced and loved by 
 the people, wielding a power envied by his lord and 
 feared by his enemies, he maintained it solely by 
 the magic influence of his art. He was a necessity; 
 in war, to inspire, by thrilling battle-song, those 
 hardy warriors to deeds of strength and valor ; in 
 peace, to keep alive a spirit of national pride, by 
 singing their past achievements, and thus inciting 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1888. 
 
 l-^S 
 
 them to lives which would insure their country's 
 future greatness. 
 
 Whence comes this power ? History and our 
 consciousness prove that it springs not from the 
 qualities of the poet as a man, but that it is an in- 
 herent property of the art itself. Poetry speaks to 
 the heart ; appeals, with its strong simplicity, to 
 the loftiest sentiments of man's nature ; deals with 
 his tenderest emotions, his honor, his pride, and his 
 love, and points out his duty in a manner more elo- 
 quent than oratory, more irresistible than logic. 
 Thus is poetry eminently qualified to be the teacher 
 of patriotism ; to be the instrument whereby a 
 nation is infused with that spirit so fruitful in action, 
 so essential to all national greatness, so productive 
 of that feeling by which is conserved the true liberty 
 of any people. 
 
 In what consists the power of modern England } 
 There she sits, '* mistress of arts and arms," vast 
 in resource, and of broad domain ; masterful, and 
 indomitable of spirit. We recall her achievements; 
 her motto, ^ ' God and my right ; " her battles for 
 humanity, her sword of conquest ever followed by 
 the torch of enlightenment. But these are not her 
 power. They are but the fruits of her spirit. Deep 
 in the hearts of her citizens is that love of fireside, 
 of country, and of right, joined with the devotion 
 to the duty toward mankind which that love im- 
 plies, implanted by the patriotic literature of five 
 
326 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 centuries. Fruitful of poets who touch such 
 themes, she is rich in patriotism ; and rich in patriot- 
 ism, she is rich in all that makes national great- 
 ness. When at Trafalgar Nelson gave the order of 
 the day, it was a confident appeal to that same 
 generous sentiment so deeply rooted in every Brit- 
 ish heart; and in that signal, ''England expects 
 every man to do his duty," is seen a striking result 
 of such poetic teaching. Here, from the seeds 
 sown by her early bards, fostered and expanded by 
 her Burns, her Moore, her Milton and her Words- 
 worth, was unfolded that highest growth of a just 
 and righteous patriotism, whose hardy offspring, 
 transplanted this side the Atlantic, has been the 
 controlling factor, the potent element in our country's 
 greatness. 
 
 Kindred to this slower growth, but not of a less 
 enduring nature, is that patriotism kindled by the 
 poetry of the hour. During the war of liberation, 
 when the German states lay broken and bleeding 
 under the might of Napoleon ; when the national 
 spirit, feeble through internal despotism and lack of 
 unity, was well-nigh crushed by a foreign oppressor; 
 then it was that German poetry roused German 
 patriotism. The singer was abroad in the land, 
 and a great people, through the writings of an 
 Arndt and a Koerner, awoke from that lethargy 
 under which their countr}^ was fast being driven to 
 destruction. Napoleon saw ; and, fearing such an 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88S. 327 
 
 awakening, forced Arndt to flee, as the English, 
 when, foiled by the valor of the hardy mountaineers, 
 slew the ancient bards of Wales. But his attempt 
 was futile ; Koerner, joining the army, continued 
 the strain, and ceased not until all Germany was in 
 arms, and himself had died for the cause for which 
 he had sung so well. Too late, however, for 
 Napoleon. Those songs had struck the keynote of 
 German liberty, and touched a sentiment in the 
 popular heart stronger than hatred, mightier than 
 mere armies, — love for the Fatherland. This 
 armed a new-found nation ; this hurled back forever 
 the ''man of destiny," and rendered possible the 
 formation of a state, of an empire — a united Ger- 
 many, Later, when the cry '*on to Berlin" re- 
 sounded through the streets of Paris, when half a 
 million Frenchmen were hastening to the border, 
 and the question came, 
 
 ' * — the Rhine ! the German Rhine ! 
 Who guards to-day, thy stream divine ? " 
 
 back swelled the refrain from every loyal heart, 
 
 " Dear Fatherland, no danger thine, 
 Firm stand thy sons to guard the German Rhine." 
 
 It was Rueckert, and Arndt, and Koerner, who were 
 singing that song, and the patriotism which their 
 poetry had kindled avenged Jena at Sedan. 
 
 In that poetry best calculated to inspire a sudden 
 patriotism, music has always constituted an impor- 
 
328 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 tant feature ; for music, when it rises to the exalted 
 sphere of expressing human passion, is, in itself, 
 poetry. This union of the twin arts is best seen in 
 the national hymn. Born in the hour of trial, its 
 best examples are always a spontaneous outburst of 
 high feeling. They are patriotism's most thrilling 
 expression, as well as its best teachers ; and well 
 indeed, was it said, ' ' Let me write the songs of a 
 people, and I care not who makes their laws." 
 
 France, in the travail of her bloody revolution, 
 at the outset of those wars which shook Europe to 
 its very centre, gave to the world its grandest war- 
 song, the ' ' Marseillaise " ; in it is crystallized the 
 patriotism of France. From the first, it took a 
 deep hold upon the people, and roused them to such 
 a pitch of ardent patriotism, that the mere line 
 ' ' Ye sons of France, awake to glory ! " sufficed to 
 fill the ranks, and imbue the army with a devotion 
 that rendered it well-nigh resistless ; and often, in 
 the wild rush of its impassioned strains, have her 
 soldiers turned the tide of battle, snatched victory 
 from defeat, and covered her banners with unfading 
 glory. 
 
 On the eighth of September, 1855, the armies of 
 the allies had determined to storm Sebastopol ; to 
 the British was assigned the task of taking the re- 
 doubt known as Redan ; while the grim Malakoff 
 bade defiance to the troops of France. Slowly and 
 sternly they advance to the attack ; then from the 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1888. 
 
 329 
 
 defenses a hundred cannon belch forth their iron 
 hail of death ; they waver, they rally, and again fall 
 back ; flesh and blood can not withstand that awful 
 fire ; something must be done, and quickly. Sud- 
 denly from the ranks is heard, * ' La Marseillaise ! 
 give us la Marseillaise and victory ! " The air is 
 struck up, ''To arms ! to arms, ye brave." Then, 
 heedless of that terrible storm, seeing not, feeling 
 not, on, on they rush, fired by the thrill of that in- 
 spiring song, over the breach, past the cannon's 
 mouth, to victory. Poetry had triumphed ; in her 
 simplicity, stronger than discipline, she had pre- 
 vailed when human arm was powerless. 
 
 In the poetry of home and country we have a 
 heritage of surpassing wealth. Sung by cradle and 
 fireside, taught in our schools, part and parcel of 
 our intellectual equipment, it is a source of national 
 power and greatness. Let it be kept sacred. 
 Better than moated fortress or rifled cannon, it is a 
 defense and bulwark of our liberties. The poetry 
 of a free people, breathing the national spirit, is 
 pledge and earnest of the perpetuity of its institu- 
 tions. 
 
 22 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1889. 
 
 "The Spanish Armada," 
 
 Lincoln Christman Ackler, 
 
 George David Miller, 
 
 Frederick Perkins. 
 "Frederick II. and Frederick III.," 
 
 Schuyler Coe Brandt, 
 
 Charles William Enoch Chapin. 
 "The Ethics of Socialism," 
 
 Edgar Coit Morris. 
 "Africa's Debt to David Livingstone," 
 "The Diplomatic Career of Benjamin Franklin." 
 " The Appointing Power of the President; its Origin and 
 Influence." 
 
 THE SPANISH ARMADA. 
 
 BY FREDERICK PERKINS. 
 
 ON a bright May morning, three hundred years 
 ago, a magnificent spectacle in the harbor of 
 Lisbon attracted the gaze of Christendom. The 
 Invincible Armada was about to loose from its 
 moorings and begin a voyage of conquest that 
 would turn the course of history into new channels 
 and revolutionize the world. The red cross of the 
 crusade gleamed from the sails of a hundred and 
 thirty ships, whose size and strength astonished the 
 nations. Two thousand cannon of brass and iron, 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88g. 3 3 1 
 
 the finest product of Spanish arsenals, were to make 
 these vessels besoms of destruction. Thirty thousand 
 seamen and soldiers, animated by the fiercest relig- 
 ious enthusiasm, were embarking on a holy mission. 
 
 What was the object of this mighty expedition } 
 That fair land, coveted by the nations since the 
 days when the legions of Caesar claimed her, — 
 England, — " whose rocky shore beats back the en- 
 vious rage of Neptune" and all other tyrannies, 
 was the prize which Roman Catholic despotism 
 longed to grasp. 
 
 In 1588 England was the only Protestant power 
 in the world. In the preceding thirty years, the 
 reaction against the Reformation had been rapid 
 and decisive. Despairing Protestantism looked to 
 England in this fearful hour. Rome's pontiff, Sex- 
 tus v., had been striving to remove the only barrier 
 to complete papal sway. Through Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, through Jesuit missionaries and now, at 
 last, through Philip II., the Catholic bigot of Spain, 
 he had been endeavoring to bring the island king- 
 dom under his control. 
 
 And what incentives Philip had for this mission 
 of conquest ! If he could bring England under 
 popish rule, the faithful, through all succeeding 
 ages, would adore him scarcely less than Hilde- 
 brand and St. Peter. A conquest of England 
 would be a long stride towards annexing to the 
 Spanish domain all the goodly places of the earth. 
 
332 IHE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 and of establishing a globe-encircling empire. 
 Mary Stuart had been beheaded, and, therefore, 
 upon Philip's arrival in England, English Catholics 
 would certainly flock to his standard and English 
 Protestants would fall an easy prey to Philip II., 
 universal emperor. 
 
 Such was the plot. What would be the out- 
 come t Pope and king anxiously awaited the result. 
 Castilian chivalry, which had given its noblest youth 
 to the crusade, besought heaven for favoring winds. 
 The brave Netherlands, struggling for civil and re- 
 ligious liberty, besought heaven for destruction to 
 Spanish power. The exiled Huguenots, recalling 
 vividly the horrors of St. Bartholomew's day, 
 looked eagerly on. The most unconcerned specta- 
 tor of this great drama was the Queen of England, 
 who hopped and skipped and wrangled over her 
 money-bags as if the Spanish fleet were a dream. 
 
 But what of the English people .'' A new life had 
 stirred within them. The Renaissance had made 
 the Englishman realize that he was only a little 
 lower than the angels. A period of grand self- 
 assertion and development had begun. Was this 
 glad, awakened, reformed England to be plunged 
 back into the degradation of the dark ages 1 Was 
 her beloved faith to be renounced for the vicious 
 dogmas of Romanism } 
 
 The Armada was slowly but surely approaching. 
 On the afternoon of July 30th the lookout men on 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88g. •y^'^^'^^ 
 
 the cliffs of Devon, straining eager eyes into the 
 distance, saw within the offing's hazy veils a dim 
 crescent line coming up over the rim of the sea, 
 always coming nearer, ever growing clearer, until 
 at last the whole immense armament, stretched, an 
 awful reality, before them. Then the beacons 
 flashed the news through England's shires, that the 
 dreaded foe was at hand. 
 
 The foe was at hand and so were the mariners of 
 England. Safely sheltered in the harbor of Ply- 
 mouth, the little fleet of forty sail under Lord 
 Howard was ready for action. Sir Francis Drake, 
 who had more than once singed King Philip's 
 beard, was there with his western privateers ; Sir 
 John Hawkins, the famous buccaneer, was there 
 with his strong, swift sailing vessels, built after new 
 and original models. Above all there were the 
 English seamen, ill paid and half starved, but lov- 
 ing their country, and hating the Spaniard with all 
 the intensity of their stout, warm hearts. 
 
 During the following week of conflict in the Chan- 
 nel, the Spaniard learned with bitter dismay that 
 his ponderous galleons were no match for the light, 
 easily-managed English vessels, nor were the slug- 
 gish forces of southern luxuriousness able to cope 
 with the rapid, persistent work of northern energy. 
 Above the roar and din of battle the finely-hearing 
 ear could distinguish the clashing of world-impor- 
 tant principles. Here was the struggle between 
 
334 T^HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Romish absolutism and modern liberty, between 
 the servile life of the past and the fresh, progressive 
 spirit of the Renaissance, between ecclesiastical 
 corruption and free religion. 
 
 The winds of heaven came to aid the cause of 
 freedom. The Spanish ships dipping so heavily to 
 leeward, their guns were directed harmlessly above 
 the English vessels, while their own huge hulks 
 were exposed to the English fire. 
 
 "And where," thought the Spanish admiral, 
 ' ' are the English Catholics, and when are their forces 
 to join mine V He could not know that, to them, 
 country vv^as more than creed, that 
 
 ' ' Papists met with English laughter, 
 
 The Popish bans and messages malign ; 
 
 And Papist halls, from rush to rafter, 
 
 Echoed with Queen's men first and Pope's men after." 
 
 Protestant and Catholic nobles and squires came 
 hurrying forth in every available fishing smack and 
 pinnace, bringing such inspiration to the half- 
 starved English crews that ever}/ common seaman 
 became an individual hero. What mattered it to 
 the sailors if their drink was sour and their bread 
 musty, or even if the miserable supply should fail } 
 A united England was depending upon them for aid, 
 and '' come the three corners of the world in arms," 
 they would defend her. 
 
 But now a crisis was approaching. Lord How- 
 ard could not suffer the enemy to lie idly at anchor 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88g. 335 
 
 in Calais harbor. Provisions and ammunition were 
 fast failing. Act he must, and act quickly. The 
 Spanish fleet must be dispersed, for a southern wind 
 might any hour drive it across the narrow strait. 
 About midnight on August seventh the Spanish 
 watchmen saw floating down upon them with the 
 tide, eight dark, mysterious objects, Suddenly they 
 shot up into pyramids of flame. ' ' The fire of Ant- 
 werp ! The fire of Antwerp !" rang through the 
 Spanish fleet, telling that the fire-ships were ap- 
 proaching. In a moment all was panic and con- 
 sternation on the Armada. ' ' Cut your cables and 
 fly for the open sea," was the signal from the com- 
 mander's ship. The galleons fled, the ever-baffling 
 wind driving them along the Flemish coast. Morn- 
 ing light showed the English their opportunity, and 
 nobly did they seize it. They attacked the Span- 
 iards with a ferocity against which stout timbers 
 and naval skill could not stand. The holds, where 
 the troops were packed, became slaug^hter-pens. 
 Blood flowed from their scuppers. One by one 
 their guns were silenced, and, driven like shudder- 
 ing herds of hunted kine, the pope's anointed band 
 fled for the terrible, unknown northern seas. 
 
 And now, a force mightier than English patriotism 
 took up the work of destruction. Starvation and 
 thirst made havoc among the Spanish crews. 
 Storms smote the fleet with a fury against which 
 stout timbers and naval skill could avail nothing. 
 
336 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 The crews that cleared the coast of Scotland and 
 hoped to find succor among their co-religionists in 
 Ireland reached that island only to perish on the 
 rocks or be murdered for plunder. Toward the 
 last of September there came straggling back to an 
 angry king and a mourning nation, a miserable rem- 
 nant of that which could now, only in terrible irony, 
 be called the Invincible Armada. 
 
 * ' The kings of the earth set themselves and the 
 rulers take counsel together against the Lord and 
 against His anointed, but He that sitteth in the 
 heavens shall laugh, the Lord shall have them in 
 derision." 
 
 Oh ! what rapturous outbursts of thanksgiving 
 surged throughout England when she found that the 
 awful danger was past, that the power was stricken 
 down which had 
 
 ' ' Presumed to lay its hand upon the ark, 
 Of her magnificent and awful cause." 
 
 This collision with Spain developed in England 
 a deep Protestant enthusiasm. The pope had 
 proved himself to be her foe, and, henceforth, there 
 was to be no Protestant party and no Catholic party, 
 but they all were to be Englishmen. No nation 
 was ever so completely welded together. The new 
 consciousness of unified national life raised the 
 people to the highest pitch of national enthusiasm. 
 This joyous transport entered poetry and gave us 
 
EXHIBITION OF i88g. 337 
 
 Shakspeare ; it entered philosophy, and we received 
 the Novum Organum ; it entered exploration and 
 colonization, and the Virginias were the result ; it 
 entered religion, and behold "the isles of the sea, 
 the uttermost parts of the earth, join in proclaiming 
 that the Lord God of Hosts, He is God, and there 
 is none like Him." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1890. 
 
 "The Touchstone of 'As You Like It' and the Fool of 
 ' King Lear,' " 
 
 Charles Oliver Gray. 
 "Victor Hugo, Poet and Patriot," 
 
 Robert James Hughes, 
 
 Walstein Root. 
 "The Mihtary Career of General Philip H. Sheridan," 
 
 Samuel Duncan Miller. 
 "The New West, and its Bearing on our National Destiny," 
 
 Delos DeWolf Smyth. 
 " Individualism and the State," 
 
 Edward Lawrence Stevens. 
 " The Debt of the New World to Columbus." 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. POET AND PATRIOT. 
 
 BY ROBERT J. HUGHES. 
 
 ^^T IBERTY, equality, fraternity," precious in- 
 L/ tertwining of poetry, patriotism and the hu- 
 man heart ! Never was this noblest device more 
 superbly personified than in the Poet laureate of 
 the French Republic. Liberty was Victor Hugo's 
 goal, equality his hope, fraternity his strength. 
 Personal, independence was the basis of his politi- 
 cal creed. ^ Freedom in art, in faith, in life, was 
 his golden rule. 
 
 * Barbou. 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8go. 339 
 
 To the eventful and extraordinary times in which 
 he was born, grew up and lived, the cast of Victor 
 Hugo's genius owes much. For its praises worthily 
 sung, its sorrows piously consoled, its errors de- 
 plored, and its spirit interpreted, the contemporary 
 history of his country is deeply indebted to him, 
 but to that history his debt is greater still. Never 
 could other times than his have produced that an- 
 tithetic union in one master-minstrel which we be- 
 hold in him — the action and the pause ; the exulta- 
 tion at the clash of arms, the longings and cravings 
 for repose ; all the glories, all the woes, the hopes, 
 the fears, the storms and calms of those years of 
 wonder — the youthhood of the nineteenth century."^ 
 
 Victor Hugo was a most voluminous writer, and 
 like the great Goethe, his period of literary produc- 
 tion exceeded three-score years. ' ' He was made 
 to write, to receive and to transmit impressions, as 
 a river is made to flow, "t The unity v/hich is not 
 to be found in his acts or his works will be found 
 in his iron will. Before its terrible onset the 
 bronze-mailed knights of opinionated Classicism 
 were unseated, and the smiling virgin Romanti- 
 cism proudly emerged to greet her fearless wooer. 
 
 As a poet, he stood in his subtlest and most fan- 
 tastic moods, close to the real forms and colors of 
 nature, grouping them to secure the most bizarre 
 
 * Stuart, t Marzials. 
 
340 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 and grotesque effects and glowing contrasts. Much 
 of his success was due to the fact that he found in 
 these a complete expression for the highly general 
 and abstract thought of our time, and dwelt with 
 more fondness on the instinctive than on the scien- 
 tific side of poetry. 
 
 His nature fiery, violent, yet profound, was lack- 
 ing in * ' esprit, " naive and the sense of the ridicu- 
 lous. Life was too serious, no pastime for him. 
 He loved to penetrate into the world of abysmal 
 darkness surrounding him, to give terrible expres- 
 sion to the black and surging mass of vitality, mis- 
 ery and crime, lurking in the backgrounds of sin- 
 stained Paris. 
 
 * * He is not the great dramatic poet of the race 
 and lineage of Shakspeare,"* but an acknowledged 
 master of lyric and satiric art. 
 
 A devout philosopher, Hugo did not sacrifice at 
 the altar of positivism. His poems have more of 
 the pantheistic cast. He places "the divine" 
 everywhere ; he sees it in nature's forces, in the 
 wind, in the sea, in the stars ; it is in the little 
 child, in the instincts of men, in the miseries of 
 humanity, as well as in its glories ; he sees it even 
 in vice, in folly, in crime. He is a respecter of all 
 that is created, of all that suffers, and lives, and dies. 
 The nobleness of his life, the purity of his aims, the 
 spontaneous and irresistible nature of his genius, 
 
 * Matthews. 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8go. 341 
 
 his masterful command of word and rhyme, his lyric 
 supremacy, all combined to make him the true 
 poet, the poet's poet. With all its defects, his 
 verse will endure through the after-time as a living 
 force, because it is * ' broad-based upon the univer- 
 sal human heart, and so eternal."^ 
 
 Victor Hugo, with Lamartine and Lamennais, 
 formed the first and firmest basis of the Republi- 
 can party in France. Hugo, v/ho had contributed 
 to the glory of the Napoleonic story, in obedience to 
 sentiments learned at his mother's breast, roughly 
 converted in the swirling 'current of events, at last 
 consecrated himself as the defender of liberty and 
 the republic, as the resolute antagonist of the im- 
 perial restoration. Never was despotism so chas- 
 tised by poetry. The tyrants of Babylon and Nine- 
 veh, those idolatrous kings who raised their images 
 upon altars consecrated to the true God, v>^ere not 
 more cursed by the ancient prophets, than was the 
 tyrant of France, by the grandest and most manly 
 genius which France in this age has produced. 
 From irony to invective, from the pungent epigram 
 to the lyric ode, everything was employed with 
 severe, implacable justice to pursue the assassin of 
 the republic, torm.ented by those words of genius 
 like the wandering lo phrensied by the pitiless gad- 
 
 fly- 
 
 The dictator could hurl his praetorian legions 
 * Marzials. 
 
342 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 upon liberty and democracy, but must finally be 
 overwhelmed by the satire, the energy, the genius 
 of Victor Hugo. These immortal verses formed 
 the education of a class of young men taught to 
 swear undying hatred to tyranny. Tacitus and 
 Juvenal wrote against the corruption of tyranny ; 
 but they did not succeed like Victor Hugo in seeing 
 their tyrants brought to the ground. Their gener- 
 ation was not as free as the present, nor were ideas 
 as powerful then as now. The chords of the 
 human heart responded to Hugo's touch as in the 
 century before they had answered to the eloquence 
 of Rousseau. He filled with that vague inspiration 
 which creates heroes and martyrs a whole genera- 
 tion, which at last took to its heart that sublime 
 trilogy, ' ' Liberty, democracy, and the republic ! " 
 For the Latin people generally, Hugo, like Gari- 
 baldi, is a typical hero. He represents fully their 
 distrust of governing classes and their deep sense 
 of universal right. To Hugo all P'renchmen point 
 as proof that France has been the support of liberal 
 and humanitarian views in the century of their birth ; 
 to them he is the sign, as Renan puts it, that lib- 
 eralism is the national work of France. With the 
 Napoleons in her past, not to speak of Guizots and 
 Veuillots, this might have been doubted ; the re- 
 actions had been as potent and as long-lived as the 
 progressive impulses. But with Hugo, at the end 
 of the century, as Rousseau and the revolution 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8go. 343 
 
 were at the beginning, liberalism is secure. With 
 him the idea of modern France is completed. For 
 this reason Frenchmen of all ranks and opinions, 
 even those, and they were many, who distrusted 
 and dreaded his utterances while he lived, gratefully 
 accord him unprecedented national honors now that 
 he is dead. 
 
 That he could thus represent in his own life and 
 work the place of France among the nations, and 
 in a manner consolidate it, is the better part of 
 Hugo's greatness. His manly virtues, — courage, for- 
 titude, candid speech, and uncompromising fidelity 
 to the lofty idea — all had their expression here ; and 
 for the sake of these, France will overlook some 
 weaknesses, the necessary attendants of his gigantic 
 virtues. 
 
 Hugo's political work added little or nothing to 
 the doctrines already enunciated by the thinkers 
 who had preceded him. Here no great original 
 creation was possible, nor for such semi-philosophic 
 work had he any talent. His mission was to re- 
 fresh and recast the principles of the great revolu- 
 tionary thinkers, in a time when they were hack- 
 neyed and discredited, and to give them a setting 
 in new and splendid forms of art and eloquence. 
 
 Since Rousseau, what word has been spoken in 
 France for animate nature which will compare with 
 the ' ' Songs of the Streets and Woods ! " After 
 Volney, what note so new in the revolutionary 
 
344 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 views of history as ' ' The Legend of the Centuries ! " 
 After Voltaire, what name but Hugo ! His very 
 death was a triumph for his cause. This *'demo- 
 gorgon of radicals, " this inveterate enemy of priests 
 and kings, did not die in obscurity, or disgrace, or 
 defeat, but triumphant as a setting sun, awing every 
 hostile voice to silence.* 
 
 Victor Hugo, poet and patriot of French democ- 
 racy, with soul full of high independence and patri- 
 otic love of liberty, hating slavish conformity to 
 empty tradition, stands in the light of all the cul- 
 ture of the nineteenth century, the acknowledged 
 sovereign of the muses, over all the lyric singers of 
 that high-wrought land, ' ' la belle France ! " 
 
 * Cappon. 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1891. 
 
 "The Conception of Human Progress in Tennyson,' 
 Samuel Hopkins Adams, 
 Bayard Livingston Peck. 
 
 "The Political Future of the Negro in the South," 
 Thomas Lewis Coventry. 
 
 " John C. Fremont, the Pathfinder," 
 
 Duncan Campbell Lee. 
 
 "Schiller," 
 
 Philip Ward. 
 
 " America's Debt to Agassiz," 
 
 George Marmaduke Weaver. 
 
 " Thackeray's Ideal of the Young Man." 
 
 THE CONCEPTION OF HUMAN PROGRESS IN TENNY 
 
 SON. 
 
 BY BAYARD L. PECK. 
 
 THE march of mind has ever been to the music 
 of the poet's numbers. The early bards sang 
 of battle's din, of heroes' deeds, of life, and love. 
 Later, might of arms became less than might of 
 mind, and this progress was pictured by the poet's 
 pen. Fancy has gilded fact ; fact has rationalized 
 fancy. The material has wedded the ideal ; and 
 science and poetry go hand in hand. 
 
 While Wordsworth predicted a common sphere to 
 science and poetry ; and Goethe, Shelley, and 
 23 
 
346 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Byron, more completely fused the two, it remained 
 for Tennyson to weave truths of science and philos- 
 ophy, prophetic visions of the future, and brilliant 
 gems of fancy into a fabric of unrivaled beauty. 
 The poets who have sung of 
 
 ' ' What the world will be 
 When the years have died away," 
 
 have differed as to paths by which human progress 
 must be attained. Some have believed that the 
 end must be reached by political and moral convul- 
 sions ; others by peaceful development. 
 
 Tennyson is of the latter class. Law is his watch- 
 word. Law is the sun which has dispelled the 
 darkness of the past, illumined the present, and 
 which will bathe the future with universal radiance. 
 
 The tragedy of life he confesses and bemoans ; 
 but the lot of birth has placed him above actual 
 contact with the poor and oppressed, and their suf- 
 ferings and burdens are but dimly seen. The world 
 is young. Law and time will work the remedy. 
 
 Tennyson has great respect for established insti- 
 tutions, especially for those of England. He has 
 been truly called a "Liberal-Conservative." His 
 vision of the ' ' World and all the wonders that will 
 be," '*The one far-off divine event to which the 
 whole creation moves," is one of " Vast republics," 
 a "Parliament of man," of "Federations and of 
 Powers." 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8gr. 347 
 
 He regards revolution not as the right of op- 
 pressed peoples, but as the synonym of folly. That 
 marvelous uprising of France which struck the 
 world with awe and inspired the lurid pen-pictures 
 of Carlyle, Tennyson calls the ' ' red fool-fury of the 
 Seine." It is not by fire and sword, but *'From 
 precedent to precedent " that ' ' Freedom slowly 
 broadens down." He fails to see that great strides 
 in the onward march of humanity might never have 
 been taken had men not dared death for truth and 
 right. 
 
 Like all the thinkers since thought was born, 
 Tennyson has asked the '' Whence," the ''Why," 
 the "Whither." There have been times when 
 empty echo was the only ansv/er. 
 
 It is meet for a poet to whom the past, the pres- 
 ent, and the future, are as one, ' ' To sit as God, 
 holding no form of creed but contemplating all." 
 But agnosticism does not satisfy Tennyson. He 
 must have faith, though weak and shadowy. He 
 sees mankind in the ' ' Vision of Sin " wallowing in 
 the mire of wickedness, scoffing at virtue, friend- 
 ship, liberty and God, but raising his eyes aloft he 
 beholds on the mountain summit, "■ God make him- 
 self an awful rose of dawn. " "A still small voice " 
 taunts him with his misery and doubting ignorance, 
 and no answer can he make, but, glancing through 
 the casement, the soft sunlight of the Sabbath 
 bathes him in its beauty, and a ' ' hidden hope " 
 
348 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 drives the voice away. The "In Memoriam" 
 sounds the deepest depths of skepticism, but as time 
 and a purified love heal the wounds of sorrow he 
 
 "Trusts 
 With faith that comes of self-control, 
 The truths that can never be proved." 
 
 The genius of Tennyson grasped the grand con- 
 ception of the evolutionary philosophy. Looking 
 backward over the shadowy and misty past before 
 the ''Wild time coined itself into calendar, months 
 and days," he sees the nebulous cloud from which 
 our sun and system were evolved. He sees the 
 genesis of life and the long development from monad 
 to man. He recognizes the cruel law of human 
 progress by which 
 
 "The individual withers, and the world is more and more." 
 
 The evil in the minds and hearts of men is the 
 result of a brutal and savage state. To crown the 
 man we must crucify the beast. This is the 
 grandest truth that modern science has established 
 for the enlightenment and elevation of humanit}^ 
 Rejecting the dependence of man upon the super- 
 human for mental and moral improvement, it has 
 read the eternal lav/ written on the rocks, embla- 
 zoned in starry splendor upon the heavens, taught 
 by man himself, whether fettered by ignorance and 
 superstition, or basking in the sun of civilization ; 
 that human progress is by development ; that by 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8gi. 349 
 
 conflict man has reached the eminence of the pres- 
 ent ; that only by bitter conflict, with appetite and 
 passion, with demons of heredity and giants of 
 tyranny, can the summits of perfection be won at 
 last. 
 
 One of the truest of Tenn3^son's teachings is that 
 progress is to be gained by treading continuously 
 the path of duty, humble and lowly though it be. 
 This is the great truth taught by the ''Golden 
 Year." This is the fairest wreath which Tennyson 
 lays upon the bier of Wellington. 
 
 This progress must also be found in society, not 
 in the hermit life of solitude. The soul in the 
 ' ' Palace of Art, " though surrounded by every grati- 
 fication of sense, must seek the cottage in the vale 
 ere life is worth the living. 
 
 To do and not to dream, is another lesson of 
 progress. In the picture of the * ' Lotos-Eaters '' 
 the fate of dreamers is portrayed; in "Ulysses," 
 the active and manly spirit that must door die. In 
 one, the v/anderers, wearied with a world of work 
 and wickedness, taste the opiate of forgetfulness, 
 and dream away to the music of softly rippling 
 waves and whispering breezes ; in the other, love 
 of action urges on to further conflict and more 
 glorious victory. 
 
 " To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield." 
 
 Love has been a characterizing thread in the 
 
350 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 poetic fabric of all ages. In all its varied phases, 
 from the ardent passion of youth which takes up 
 the ' ' harp of Life " in " Locksley Hall " to the calm 
 and matured love of a lifetime, which is voiced in 
 reminiscence, ' ' across the walnuts and the wine, " it 
 finds perfect expression in the poems of Tennyson. 
 This love of lover, wife and friend lifts the heart of 
 man to higher things. Without love, man is a 
 wanderer in a barren waste ; with love, the oasis 
 bursts upon his weary vision ; with love perfected 
 and ennobled, the desert buds and blossoms into 
 paradise. 
 
 Tennyson would receive more homage from the 
 world of thought to-day had he never penned the 
 second *' Locksley Hall." The hero of the earlier 
 poem, singing of the future of a world made beauti- 
 ful in the present by the roseate coloring of youth- 
 ful enthusiasm and a reciprocated passion, plunged 
 into the abyss of despair when the loved one proves 
 untrue, yet rising again to a nobler vision of human- 
 ity and progress, is a picture that warms the heart 
 and quickens the imagination, so that we too can see 
 the golden future which will crown the efforts of 
 the struggling present. But when sixty years have 
 joined the past the vision is less glorious. Age and 
 experience of man's suffering and sin have 
 dampened the ardor and buoyancy of youth. But 
 the conception of progress is not radically changed. 
 Faith in God and man may be ^weaker, doubt and 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8gi. 3 5 1 
 
 distrust may be stronger ; but in the end, again as 
 in youth, there rings out to struggHng, suffering hu- 
 manity the grand old rallying cry of ''Forward!" 
 
 Such is Tennyson's conception of human progress, 
 of the golden age which is to come. It is a concep- 
 tion less inspiring than the prophecies of those 
 poets of passion, whose divine songs sound like 
 strains of martial music, to lead the march of hu- 
 manity into the realm of freedom. Tennyson's 
 view is less visionary, more prosaic, but more real. 
 By obedience to law, by evolutionary development, 
 by science ' ' grown to more, " by love ennobled, by 
 individual duty done, by the help of the dim. and 
 shadowy "Hand that guides, " the time will come 
 when we can sing with the inspired poet in the 
 halcyon days of life's springtime, 
 
 ' ' For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, 
 Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; 
 
 — the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags 
 were furl'd 
 In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1892. 
 
 " Anglo-Saxon Freedom," 
 
 John McCollum Curran, 
 John Parker Martin. 
 
 " James Russell Lowell, Author and Diplomatist," 
 Charles Andrew Erasure, 
 
 "The Founding of the German Empire," 
 
 Thomas Newton Owen. 
 
 " The Heroism of Christopher Columbus," 
 
 Strother William Rice. 
 
 "The Jews in Russia," 
 
 Gregory Rosenblum. 
 
 "The Railroad as a Force in Civilization." 
 
EXHIBITION OF 1893. 
 
 ' * Las Casas, the Apostle of the Indies, ' ' 
 
 Harry Capron Allen. 
 
 "The Pathos in the Life and Poetry of Heinrich Heine," 
 Daniel WyEtte Burke. 
 
 "Waterloo and Sedan," 
 
 John Gailey Campbell, 
 Nathaniel McGiffin. 
 
 "Tennyson's Arthur as the Ideal Champion of Right," 
 Charles Romeyn La Rue, 
 Alexander Wouthrs. 
 
 "Whittier, the Poet of Freedom." 
 
 "The Gerrymander, its History, its Evil and its Cure." 
 
 WATERLOO AND SEDAN. 
 
 by NATHANIEL MC GIFFIN. 
 
 SOME one has said, ' ' Great men and great events 
 are the fixed points and peaks of history." 
 Whether or not that statement be universally good, 
 it certainly is true as applied to France. Two 
 names and two events mark important epochs in 
 her history. Two men, animated by kindred am- 
 bitions, terminated their careers on two historic 
 battlefields, Waterloo and Sedan. 
 
 The history of the French people is a tragedy. 
 The shining of the epaulette has dazzled the eyes 
 of the volatile Frenchman, and his ears have ever 
 
354 T-HE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 responded to the music of the drum. The new 
 philosophy of Voltaire and Rousseau, coloring the 
 thought and literature of the age, appealed to his 
 imagination, fired his susceptive nature, poisoned 
 the wellsprings of royalty, conceived and brought 
 forth the French Revolution. For ten years, 
 amidst blood and flame and scaffold, while over- 
 throwing a monarchy, rejecting three constitutions, 
 making and unmaking assemblies, borne on a frail 
 craft in the tempest of her fears, France cast about 
 for her pilot. A Corsican lieutenant, whom for- 
 tune had placed at Toulon, asked to be made first 
 consul, and Napoleon Bonaparte was master of a 
 nation. 
 
 ' ' The Child of Destiny " had faith in his ' ' star, " 
 and France, intoxicated by the glory of a soldier, 
 became his slave. Her people, pausing in the 
 midst of freedom, halted to enthrone this adventurer. 
 The grim genius ' ' let slip the dogs of war. " The 
 curtain of oblivion was dropped over the past, and 
 * ' Liberty, equality and fraternity " bowed to the 
 sword. At Marengo, Austerlitz, and Wagram, 
 France drank from the cup of glory ; but he who 
 holds the winds in his hand vetoed the ambition of 
 a man, and within the snow-girt kingdom of the 
 czar, France finds a grave for half a million men ; 
 the battle of Leipsic restored the Bourbons to the 
 throne of their fathers ; Bonaparte is sent to Elba, 
 and Europe breathes again. 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSgj. 355 
 
 It takes more than nine months to correct the 
 wrongs of a decade, and the French people, fasten- 
 ing the blame on the Bourbon king, again turn to- 
 ward ''The Child of Destiny." The electric step 
 of the Corsican on the southern shore of France 
 thrills the nation ; the soldier responds to the silent 
 call of his old commander, and France is again im- 
 perial. 
 
 Now begins the mighty struggle which is to de- 
 cide the fate of nations. The Allied Powers arm 
 for the defence of Europe and the invasion of 
 France. Napoleon prepares to meet them. On 
 the sixteenth of June, eighteen hundred fifteen, the 
 opposing armies strike swords at Quatre Bras and 
 Ligny. The following day Wellington falls back to 
 Waterloo ; Napoleon follows, and Grouchy pursues 
 the retreating army of Bliicher. 
 
 It had rained hard on the night preceding the 
 battle, and on the morning of that eventful day the 
 armies rose from their dripping bivouac and faced 
 each other. What a spectacle ! Two ridges 
 crov/ned with the best troops of Europe ! Silently, 
 like the Greeks of old, Wellington's soldiers massed 
 in squares before the forests of Seignies. On the 
 ridge beyond, stretching out like huge, glittering 
 serpents, long columns of French take their places 
 in line of battle. Behind these and a little above, 
 like sentinels of death, along the crest of the ridge, 
 stand two hundred and fifty cannon, ready to be- 
 
356 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK, 
 
 gin the harvest of death, while in the rear of all is 
 the '' Old Guard," veterans of a hundred battles. 
 
 Between eleven and twelve o'clock the first gun 
 is fired from the French centre ; six thousand men 
 charge the English fortifications at Hougoumont ; 
 Ney flings the French right against the English left ; 
 and the famous battle of Waterloo has begun. For 
 eight hours a hundred and fifty thousand men 
 struggle for the mastery of a continent. At the 
 chateau of Hougoumont, three thousand English- 
 men close their eyes in death, but the brave follow- 
 ers of Wellington stubbornly hold their ground. 
 Again and again, Napoleon's veteran legions hurl 
 themselves against the compact squares of Welling- 
 ton, and as often are repulsed. About five o'clock 
 the intrepid Ney drew his sword and placed him- 
 self at the head of three thousand French horsemen. 
 As the mighty squadrons moved, shouts of ' ' Long 
 live the Emperor " reverberated from ridge to ridge. 
 The iron duke knew that the decisive moment had 
 come. ' ' Remember Old England, " cried Welling- 
 ton to his comrades in arms. For two hours the 
 fierce cuirassiers hovered round the English centre, 
 and amid the whirlwind of flashing swords seven 
 out of the thirteen British squares were cut to pieces. 
 Had Napoleon won the day } At that moment, 
 when the star of his success kissed the zenith, 
 Bliicher's army marched with glittering bayonets 
 and unscratched banners upon the field of conflict ; 
 
EXHIBITION OF i8gs. 357 
 
 grandly and heroically the ''Old Guard" died; 
 night drew a curtain over the field of Waterloo, and 
 the little corporal, the idolized emperor, the mighty 
 Napoleon was a fugitive. 
 
 Thus closed the active career of the most striking 
 character ever produced by any land or nation. 
 The Celtic fickleness of his people made Napoleon 
 the Great a possibility. But calculation overcame 
 genius, and brilliant daring was forced to succumb 
 to steadfast endurance. 
 
 The defeat at Waterloo was a bitter blow to 
 France. Humbled in the midst of her renown she 
 accepts the forced gift of monarchy. The restor- 
 ation of eighteen hundred fifteen burdened her with 
 a heavy heritage. Renouncing the old traditions 
 of the Bourbons, she was governed by constitu- 
 tional kings. With monstrous strides science, edu- 
 cation and enlightened thought swept over Europe. 
 France had profited by her chastisement. But in 
 eighteen hundred forty-eight the fever of revolu- 
 tion springs up again. ' ' Liberty, equality, fra- 
 ternity," words almost forgotten, again appeal to 
 her impulsive people. Once more hero worship 
 displaces reason ; France leaps at the imperial 
 name, and by a coup d'etat Louis Napoleon steps 
 from the presidency of a republic to the throne 
 of an empire. 
 
 Across the Rhine the German states had out- 
 grown their weakness. From the battle smoke 
 of Sadowa, William I. came forth the leader of 
 
358 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 Germany. The Fatherland was to be united. 
 France, burning with jealousy, clamored for war. 
 Her weak emperor was surrounded by treason. 
 Seeking a pretext for hostility he said to Germany, 
 ** No member of the House of Hohenzollern shall 
 sit on the throne of Spain. " William's answer was 
 defiance. The arrogant Frenchman cried, * ' On to 
 Berlin." The sturdy German answered, "On to 
 Paris." Deceived by his generals. Napoleon, in- 
 stead of placing himself at the head of a mighty 
 army, found his country unprepared. From the 
 Fatherland beyond the Rhine came four splendid 
 armies. The borderland of France becomes the 
 scene of carnage. In quick succession the French 
 strongholds fall into the hands of the enemy ; Ba- 
 zaine is shut in at Metz and MacMahon is driven 
 with fearful rout into Sedan. Waterloo is to be 
 repeated ; but there is no Ney to charm by his dar- 
 ing leadership ; there is no ' ' Old Guard " to fight 
 and die, while an enemy applauds their loyalty to 
 a defeated commander. Like two ponderous iron 
 jaws the Prussian armies contract round the dis- 
 heartened French ; vainly they attempt to break 
 the line of Teutonic steel ; Emperor Louis, the 
 embodiment of despair, looks up at the frowning 
 muzzles of the five hundred cannon that crown the 
 encircling hills ; for hours the storm of death rages 
 about him ; at last, knowing that his empire is 
 at an end, torn with anguish, sick with disease, 
 and horrified at the wanton slaughter of his country- 
 
EXHIBITION OF iSgs. 359 
 
 men, the emperor of France strikes his colors to 
 the Hohenzollern king, and eighty-three thousand 
 Frenchmen lay down their arms. 
 
 Waterloo and Sedan mark the downfall of two 
 empires ; one bore upon its escutcheon the motto 
 * ' Divine Right ; " the other emblazoned the battle 
 call of republican liberty. The battle of Water- 
 loo ended in glory to the arms of France. Her 
 soldiers died in the ranks of their foes, and the 
 ' 'Old Guard never surrendered ; " the battle of 
 Sedan terminated with humiliation and shame. At 
 Waterloo the French were beaten ; at Sedan they 
 were trapped. Two emperors reaped ' ' the fruits 
 of disappointment," and both died with the curse 
 of their countrymen upon their heads. 
 
 The defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo and the dis- 
 mal ending of the campaign which terminated at 
 Sedan, both taught needed lessons to the citizens 
 of our sister republic. In this century of strife 
 France has never lost courage. A republic for 
 twenty-two years, though linked with grand mis- 
 takes, she still leads the Old World towards 
 "Freedom's holy light." Having satisfied the de- 
 mands of her conquerors, and blessed with recuper- 
 ative power, she stands to-day with her loins girded 
 for a new race. If undisturbed in peace, liberty 
 and order will crown the efforts that have been 
 foiled by the throes of war. 
 
 "Her open eyes desire the truth. 
 The wisdom of a hundred years 
 Is in them. May perpetual youth 
 Keep dry their light from tears." 
 
SUBJECTS OF 1894. 
 
 "The Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods." 
 
 " Gordon and Havelockas Types of Christian Soldiers." 
 
 "The Agitator in American History." 
 
 "The American Locomotive Engineer." 
 
 "The Debt of Liberty to the Netherlands." 
 
 " George William Curtis and Civil Service Reform." 
 
INDEX TO SPEAKERS. 
 
 ACKLER, L. C, '89. 
 Adams, S. H., '63. 
 Adams, S. H., '91. 
 Allen, H. C, '93. 
 Alien, S. D., '78. 
 Allen, T. H., '79. 
 Allison, C. E., '70. 
 
 BACHMAN, R. L., '71. (Prize 
 Baker, B. W., '66. 
 Baldwin, E., '67. 
 Barber, C. L., '76. 
 Barrows, C. D., '69. 
 Bartlett, U., '85. 
 Bates, W. H., '65. 
 Beach, W. H., '60. 
 Beard, T., '56. 
 Bigelow, D. W., '65. 
 Bingham, R. S,, '60. 
 Bissell, L. P., '63. 
 Blackmar, A. E., '74. 
 Bogue, H. P. v., '63. (Prize.) 
 Bostwick, W. L., '58. 
 Bradbury, A. U., '62. 
 Bradford, A. H., '67. 
 Bradford, W., '85. (Prize.) 
 Branch, O. E., '73. (Prize.) 
 Brandt, S. C, '89. 
 Breed, D. R., '67. 
 Briggs, R. C, '73. 
 Brodie, J. F., '76. 
 Brookins, A., '60. 
 Browne, S. W., '2>'j, 
 Buckingham, C. L., '62. (Prize.) 
 Budlong, F. D., '77. 
 Burgess, E. S., '79. 
 Burke, D. W. E., '93. 
 
 Burke, J. E.. '55. (Prize.) 
 Burrill, S. P., '85. 
 
 CALLAPIAN, PI. W., '78. 
 Campbell, J. G., '93. 
 Campbell, W. F., '83. 
 Chapin. C. W. E., '89. 
 Chesebrough, T. W., '61. 
 Child, F. S., '75. 
 )Childs, A. L., '61. 
 'Clarke, S. T., '62. 
 Cockerill, H. W., '77. 
 Cole, C. B., '87. (Prize.) 
 Coventry, T. L., '91. 
 Crumby, G. F., '79. 
 Cummins, E. W., '71. 
 Cunningham, H. D., '66. 
 Curran, E., '56. 
 Curran, H. H., '62. 
 Curran, J. M., '92. » 
 Curtis, M.M., '80. 
 
 DANIELS, H. E. C, '68. 
 Dautel, E. W., '2>z. 
 Davis, J. A., '78. 
 De Shon, W. H., '70. 
 Dewey, F. L.,'82. 
 Diven, G. M., '57. 
 Duguid, H. L., '56. 
 Dunham, G. E., '79. 
 
 CDDY, S. W., '75. 
 
 i-' Eells, H. P., '76. (Prize.] 
 
 Ellis, G. W., '78. 
 
 Enos, E. A., '74. (Prize.) 
 
 Erdman, A., '58. 
 
 Erdman, W. J., '56. 
 
 Evans, A. H., '82. (Prize.) 
 
 Everett, J. E., '88. 
 
362 
 
 THE CLARK PRIZE BOOK. 
 
 CAIRFIELD, W. B., '55. 
 *■ Ferguson, J. A., '65. 
 Fisher, W. H., '64. 
 Fitch, E., '86. 
 Fitch, T. W., '69. 
 Fowler, J. C., '69. (Prize.) 
 Erasure, C. A., '92. 
 Frink, H. A., '70. 
 Frost, J. E., '71. 
 
 GARDINER, C. A., '80. 
 (Prize 
 George, M. W., '75. 
 Glover, O. R., '69. 
 Gray, C. O., '90. 
 Greves, J. S., '61. (Prize.) 
 Griffith, W. M., '80. 
 
 HART, W., '55. 
 Hawley, C. A., '59. 
 Heacock, S. G., '80. 
 Head, F. H., '56. (Prize.) 
 Hemenway, C. C., '74. 
 Hemmens, H. J., '87. 
 Hoadley, J. H., '70. (Prize.) 
 Hodges, G., '77. 
 Holley, J. M.,'66. 
 Hopkins, A. G.,'66. 
 Hopkins, J. H., '72. 
 Hotchkiss, W. H., '86. 
 Howe, H. C, '58. 
 Hoyt, A. K., '63. 
 Hoyt, A. S., '72. 
 Hoyt, C. S., '77. 
 Hughes, R. J., '90. (Prize.) 
 Hughes, R. W., '81. (Prize.) 
 Hyland, J. A., '75. 
 
 JACKSON, W. H., '55. 
 «J Janes, C. F., '68. 
 Jenkins, H. D., '64. 
 Johnson, B. W., '65. 
 Johnson, H., '57. (Prize.) 
 Jones, G. M., '88. 
 Jones, H. O., '82. 
 Jones, J. D., '61. 
 
 Josiyn, F. W., '8r. 
 Judson, A. B., '87. 
 
 LfELLOGG, F. H.. '67. 
 1^^ Kendall, C. N., '82. 
 Kessinger, A, R., '^%, 
 Kingsley, C. R., '78. 
 Knox, C. E., '56. 
 Knox, G. W.,'74. 
 Knox, J. H., '68. 
 
 J AING, P. A., 'So. 
 
 ^ La Rue, C. R., '93. 
 
 Lathrop, W. A., '85. 
 
 Lee, D. C., '91. 
 
 Lee, D. M., '63 
 
 Lee, J. B., '86. (Prize.) 
 
 Lewis, J. J., '64. 
 
 Lewis, J. R., '60. (Prize.) 
 
 Lewis, W. E., '75. 
 
 Lloyd, H. P., '59. (Prize.) 
 
 Love, A. L., '76. 
 
 Love, H. M.. '83. 
 
 Love, W. D., '73. 
 
 Loving, H. v., '59. 
 
 Lyon, C. J., '67. 
 
 Lyon, G. F., '72. 
 
 McADAM, A. L., '88. (Prize.) 
 McAdam, G. G., '?>z. 
 McAdam, W. C., '77. 
 McGiffin, N., '93. (Prize.) 
 McLean, J., '62. 
 McMaster, PL, '76. 
 Martin, C. G., '83. (Prize. ^ 
 Martin, J. P., '92. 
 Mathews, E. D.,'73. 
 Millard, C. S., '66. (Prize.) 
 Miller, G. D.,'89. 
 Miller, M. R., '68. (Prize.) 
 Miller, S., '60. 
 Miller, S. D., '90. 
 Mills, F. v., '^7. (Prize.) 
 Miner, W. €.,''82. 
 Montross, J. P., '87. 
 
INDEX TO SPEAKERS. 
 
 ?>^Z 
 
 Morey, J. W., '79. 
 Morris, E. C.,'89. 
 Morron, J. H., '59. 
 
 NILES, J. S., '86. 
 North. G. T., '6r. 
 North, S. N. D"., '69. 
 Northrup, A. J., '58. 
 Northrup, M. H., '60. 
 Norton, G., '66. 
 
 O' 
 
 BRIEN, J. W., '73. 
 
 Seward, C. K., '75. (Prize.) 
 Seward, F. D., '58. (Prize.) 
 Seymour, A. S., '57. 
 Sherwin, S. A , '67. (Prize.) 
 Sicard, G. J., '58. 
 Sicard, S., '86. 
 Silvernail, J. P., '74. 
 Simmons, H. M., '64. (Prize.) 
 Skinner, N. N., '83. 
 Smith, B. G., '72. (Prize.) 
 Smith, P. H., '74. 
 Smyth, D. D., '90. 
 
 Ostrander, L. A., '65. (Prize. )Squires, W. H., 'i 
 
 Owen, T. N., '92. 
 
 PALMER, C. J., '71. 
 Parsons, H. H., '82. 
 Parsons, W. L., '78. (Prize.) 
 Peck, B. L., '91. (Prize.) 
 Peck, H. R., '59. 
 Peck, W., '64. 
 Perkins, F., '89. (Prize.) 
 Philhps, A. C, '71. 
 Pierson, A. T., '57. 
 Porter, L. L., '73. 
 Pratt, L. S., '81. 
 
 RICE, S. W., '92. 
 Robinson, D. J.,'57. 
 Robinson, W. M., '57. 
 Robson, F. H., '87. 
 Root, E., '64. 
 Root, E. W., '62. 
 Root, W., '90. 
 
 Rosenblum, G., '92. (Prize.) 
 Rudd, R. S., '79. (Prize.) 
 Ruggles, E. W., '85. 
 
 SACKETT, F. A., '70. 
 Scollard, C, '8r. 
 Scott, J. E., '59. 
 
 Starr. G. H., '6r. 
 Steere, S. B., '55. 
 Stevens, E. L., '90. 
 Stocking, S. W., '55. 
 Stone, C. L., '71. 
 Stringer, E. C, '76. 
 Stryker, M. W., '72. 
 Swaney, S. W., '70. 
 
 T^ALCOTT, S. H.,'69. 
 1 Tolles, H. B., '86. 
 Tufts, J. F., '72. 
 
 \/ANCE, H. A., 88'. 
 V Van Norden, C, '63. 
 
 WARD, P., '91. 
 Weaver, G. M., 
 Webster, W. O., '65. 
 White, H. P., '81. 
 Whiteman, A. J,, 'Si. 
 Willard, J. H.,'68. 
 Willard, M. G., '68. 
 Winchell, W. B., '80. 
 Wood, I. F., '85. 
 Wouters, A., '93. 
 
 '91. 
 
BY 
 
 amilton Alumni 
 
 Rev. Myron Adams, '63. 
 
 The Continuous Creation. An application of the Evoltitionary Philosophy 
 to the Christian Religion. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $1.50. 
 " The whole volume is full of suggestion, and bravely puts itself 
 
 alongside the drift of to-day's thought among men who really think. 
 
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 Creation of the Bihle. Crown 8vo, $1. 50. 
 
 Exact information concerning the latest conclusions of advanced 
 biblical study, is something many persons have desired who are without 
 opportunity or leisure to consult original sources, and by all such Mr. 
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 Franklin H. Head, '56. 
 
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 Government Revenue, especially the American System. An argument 
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 " Strong and fervent words. The Great Friend comes near in the 
 words that breathe His truth."— Priri-. Stryker., 0/ Hamilton Coile^f. 
 
 Rev. Arthur T. Pierson, D.D., '57. 
 
 The Crisis of Missions, or, The Voice out of the Cloud. i6mo, paper, 35 
 cents. Cloth, §1.25. 
 
 The Divine Enterprise of Missions. A series of Lectures delivered at New 
 Brunswick, N. J., before the Theological Seminary of the Refoi'med 
 Church in America, upon the " Graves " Foundation in i8gi. i6mo, 
 cloth, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 Eyangelistic Work in Principle and Practice. i6mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 The Divine Art of Preaching. i6mo, cloth, gilt top, 75 cents. 
 
 Love in Wealth, or The Perfection of God's Judgments. An address 
 before the Mildmay Conference, London, Eng. Leatherette, gilt top, 
 35 cents. 
 
 The Heart of the Gospel. Twelve Sermons, delivered at the Metropolitan 
 Taberna«le, London, Eng. i6mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 The One Gospel, or. The Combination of the Narratives of the Four 
 Evangelists in One Complete Record. lamo, flexible cloth, red edges, 
 75 cents. Limp Morocco, full gilt, $2.00. 
 
 Stumbling Stones Removed from the Word of God. i8mo, cloth, 50 cents. 
 
 The above Books sent postpaid, on receipt of the price by 
 
 THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO., Publishers, 
 
 5&7E. 16TH ST., NEW YORK. 
 
IMPORTANT BOOKS BY HAMILTON ALUMNI. 
 
 " The Tongue is Mightier than the Pen. " 
 
 READING AND SPEAKING. 
 
 Familiar Talks to Young' Men who would Speak Well in Public. By 
 Brainard Gardner Sinitli, Professor of Orator3% Hamilton College. 
 Cloth, 172 pages. By mail, 70 cents. 
 
 The impossibility of finding practical text-books on elocution has 
 brought the siibject into disrepute. It was a realization of this fact that 
 prompted the author of " Reading and Speaking " to publish methods 
 which experience had taught him would bring the best results in the 
 class-room. His book is more accurately defined hy the sub-title, "Famil- 
 iar Talks to Young Men who would Speak Well in Public." In a simple, 
 direct, conversational way the subject is treated as both a science and 
 an art. 
 
 The aim of the book is to help young men to a natural, comfortable, 
 manlj^, forceful manner of speech in public. To accomplish this, the 
 author makes many suggestions not usuallj'' found in print. He sug- 
 gests methods whereby the reader may ascertain for himself what faults 
 ne has: faults of breathing, faults of articulation, faults of voice pro- 
 duction, faults of manner, faults of gesture and the like. The reader is 
 also told how these faults may be cured. 
 
 The Opinion of Thomas Wentv/orth Higginson, 
 
 " I am very glad that you are interesting j^ourself in training young 
 men to speak in public. In my opinion there is no part of training more 
 important in a country like ours." 
 
 D. C. ME ATM &C0., PUBLISHERS. 
 
 Boston, New York and Chicago. 
 
 Hon. C. C. Camp, '58. 
 
 Labor, Capital and Money ; Their Just Relations. i2mo, cloth $1.00. 
 
 D. W. LERCn. PUBLISHER. 
 
 Bradford, Pa, 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 785 176 7 ^1