Address in Praise of Founders

"Oration Delivered at the Encaenia in King’s College, Fredericton, June 24, 1852, By J. Robb, M.D., Professor of Chemistry and Natural History, Corresponding Member of the American Academy of Sciences, of the Boston Natural History Society, &c." Published at the request of the College Council (UA Case 67, Box 1)

May it please your Honor, and Gentlemen,

On the occasion of a recent visit to the United States, I was much interested by certain novel ornaments in the Library of Yale College, in Connecticut: the ornaments to which I refer were a series of large and handsome gilt frames including sundry Daguerreotype portraits of young men: these were the sun-engraved likenesses of students who had left the University during several preceding years. Each single frame contained in a group all the graduates, say, thirty or forty, of one year; so that, as time rolls on, and the custom of forming such groups continues to be observed—as at present—the University will retain an accurate transcript of the features and figure of her favourite Alumni, just as they had been sealed with the seal of her approval—and were about to issue from her walls, in the proud flush of their new manhood—girt up for the battle of life,—and surrounded by their late friendly rivals and competitors for the Crown of laurel.

Too seldom, I fear, do the chances of fate allow of the actual, or bodily reunion of such a band of brothers, aye even for once again in life;—and it seemeth well thus to perpetuate the memory of those youthful friendships, and that pleasant rivalry for intellectual eminence and distinction. Too soon, perchance, may some of them exist only in such sun-tinted pictures,—or in the memories of their old companions!

Already, perhaps—

One, midst the forests of the west
By a dark stream is laid—
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.

Even, of our own smaller circle of graduates, we learnt but
yesterday that—

The sea, the blue lone sea hath one, (C.I. Allan, M.A., Barrister, who was drowned off one of the Sandwich Islands.)
He lies where pearls lie deep,
He was the loved of all—yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.

Alas! Alas!

Leaves hare their time to fall
And flowers to wither—at the north wind's breath—
And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.

While musing in that solemn Hall over this graceful, although novel record and commemoration of youthful companionship, I thought that if one of those groups of friends, or, if any other group of old college friends were to meet again, after an interval—we may suppose—of half a century of active life, they would probably agree in saying that, on the whole, their happiness or unhappiness, their failure or success in life had been mainly determined by the use which they had made of the opportunities then offered to them, and by their own conduct during the period in which they had been friends and fellow students together in the olden time. They would unite, I think, in saying that success or failure had been very greatly in their own hands, according as they had learnt to know and value Truth; and that, on the whole, their powers of reasoning—of perceiving the truth and reality of things—and the duty of regulating their conduct thereby, had been first duly apprehended during the period when, as youths, they sought together the sound and wholesome teachings of old Alma Mater.

During infancy and youth, the thoughts and conduct are chiefly directed by rules imposed by parents, and by teachers, who exact implicit obedience, and it is at this period that habits of performing common operations, and of applying rules, begin to be formed; but about the time that school education is completed, the young man begins to be dissatisfied with mere rules, he desires to know the reason of the rule, and to ascertain the real foundations of the current religious, moral, and intellectual practices and habits.

In the course of his enquiries, accordingly, there are disclosed to him glimpses of new facts, new laws and combinations which baffle and perplex his yet inexperienced reason, but which he instinctively attempts to unravel; by observation and thought he gradually acquires a clearer vision, and a more eager self confidence, so that he fears not to launch out alone upon the great Ocean of life.

But the business of practical life, I fear, is a much more serious and difficult affair than this well meaning person at first imagines it to be; and how shall he hold a steady course amid the complex and contending influences which soon beset him? He finds that he is soon involved in a strange and confused vortex, where virtue and vice—truth and error—prejudices and conventionalities—temptation and trial—duty and pleasure—vanity and passion—doubt and difficulty—interest and selfishness—activity and apathy—ambition and ease—sorrow and mirth—plenty and need—cares and embarrassments —spurs from within and hindrances from without, engage his attention and perplex his progress.

How then I say is a young man to find his way? How is he to pilot his little bark over such a dark uncertain sea, towards the Islands of the blest,—the sacred homes of the spirits approved by this Trial of life?

The answer of experience to this enquiry, I think, would be, that the safe and direct course would be selected chiefly by those who had faithfully improved and disciplined their powers of reason during the period allotted for education—and who had, by careful training, acquired the power of discovering truth under all its guises and concealments—and who, moreover, had become impressed with a profound love, affection and reverence for the truth. Under such a discipline they would have acquired a mastery over the above mentioned contending influences which beset them, and thus would they regulate and control the wayward elements to their advantage. In the first part of the systematic course of discipline adopted for the purpose referred to, the simplest cases only would have been observed and analyzed, then, of course, the more complex, or such as required the elucidation of a preliminary analysis.

Thus would the mind pass from simple to general truths, and these general truths would be again stored away and reserved as keys or instruments for the more easy solution of new cases. Thusby degrees also the fixed laws which regulate and constrain the moral and natural world would be gradually unfolded—and when there are variations in these, the "law of the variation" would be sought for and discovered. The ingenuous youth would thus at last have found out his own true place in the established system of things—he would have perceived his proper aims, and laid down a definite course and plan of life: his intellect now thoroughly awakened would appreciate the delights as well as the difficulties of reasoning upon thoughts as well as things; and, as the skilful swimmer loves to sport and dally with the angry wave, so does the well educated man, with keen and confident cheerfulness, apply himself to the difficulties of life as they arise, inwardly rejoicing in the mastery which he has acquired over his own mind, and in the calm and dignified self-reliance which he has attained to during his systematic pursuit of truth in all its relations, and patient analysis of the best methods of arriving at the truth. According, then, as he had rightly trained his mind and senses to perceive the truth—according to the strength of his conceptions of the truth, and according to his conviction of acting out his duty under all circumstances—so had he prospered or failed in his plan of life—so had he realized the pleasure or the misery of human existence.

This power of observing and reasoning, so as clearly to discern the truth—this ready appreciation and precise conception of what is the truth and reality of things—and this conviction, resolution and will to follow out the truth to all its results and consequences: this is what I consider to be the proper end and aim of a Liberal Education.

During school boy days, no doubt, the foundations are laid, and something is done towards the developement of these powers; but there is, I apprehend, something more than school boy exercises and studies required to constitute a liberal education, and to form the minds of those who are destined, under Providence, to preserve the order, direct the progress, and advance the character and interests of a community.

Rightly, then, is this liberal or collegiate education of youth considered to be one of the most important objects which a people can be called upon to establish in a new country; and right early was the cause of collegiate education taken up in earnest by the enlightened founders of the Colony in which we live.

Every one can perceive that before fourteen or fifteen years of age, the reason is seldom willingly applied to serious or abstract subjects—nor in fact is it very desirable that it should; Habits of attention and accuracy—the memory, the powers of observation, and many others, are up till that time more usefully cultivated; but, after the common-school education and the grammar-school education are ended, the young man is still unfitted to begin the business of life alone. He has not yet been taught to concentrate his attention upon long connected chains of reasoning, to sift and separate truth from error and the conceits of men—to collect, classify and analyze facts—his faculties have not yet been awakened to the vastness of the universe, nor has he a right conception of the place which he himself occupies in it, or of what has been done and what there is still to be done—he knows little of the Giant Forces of nature, by which all his acts are controlled: he sees not the strength of the foundations upon which the Christian doctrine is founded; he has imperfect conceptions of the subordination of motives and things; he fancies that temptation may be safely trifled with; that vice is fairer and perhaps pleasanter than virtue; that youth is strong and never fades; that life is long, and in his case, perhaps, may never suffer disease or death—of all these things—of the limits material and moral to which he is subjected, and of the best way of exercising himself within these limits—of all these, he is more or less ignorant—and therefore, it is well that after the School should come the College, where intellectual culture on a systematic plan is the daily duty, and the daily discipline: where this intellectual culture is carried on in association with a moral and religious culture: where polished and precise thought is gradually substituted for the vague and futile reveries of an undisciplined mind: where a manly, dignified self-reliance is to be substituted for the recklessness of ignorance—where the intellect is to be trained—and the faith purified and established.

The Fundamental and Permanent studies in all Colleges, now and heretofore, have been Classics and Mathematics; the former as being especially calculated to develope the faculty of language or expression, and the latter to educe the faculty of reason; these two, language and reason, being considered to be the principal faculties of the human mind, by the education or training of which, all men become fitted to evolve, extend and disseminate the truth and reality of things.

Language and Reason combined; language expressing rational thought, or at least expressing human feelings modified and moulded by rational thought, these two, according to a high authority, are the chief and principal results to be sought for in the education of our common humanity. "Light is grander than gold, and speech is more refreshing than light," —says the Snake, in the fable of Goethe.

The books of the Classic nations of antiquity, notwithstanding some well known imperfections, inherent to a state of heathenism, have been accepted by the universal voice of mankind as "expressing the thoughts and emotions of humanity, in its general and permanent character," and supply the permanent subjects for the study of language for all generations.

The mind of the past has been moulded upon these: the language and mind of the present is replete with their essence and spirit: and for many succeeding ages they will continue to give "form and pressure" to the language of civilized man: The Greek and Roman classics, besides containing much that is of great value in an intellectual, moral, philosophical, political, and social respect, do—as Dr. Whewell briefly observes, truly exemplify the genuine utterance of humanity.

"Manhood at the present day,"—according to Richter, "would sink immeasurably low, did not our Youth pass through the still temples of the great old Times and Men—as through a vestibule to the crowded fair of modern life. The names of Socrates, Cato, Epimanondas, &c., are pyramids of human energy. Rome, Athens, and Sparta, are cities which like primaeval mountains of humanity, grapple with youthful manhood, while modern ones only attract the eye."

In the Mathematics, again, we have the pure operation of Reason exhibited to our consideration. Language is almost laid aside, the imperfection of the senses is disregarded, and we fix our attention upon the internal relations or connections of ideas: Abstract forms, numbers, lines, and general symbols, are alone put before us; on these the reason and logical faculty is constrained to exercise and educate itself; gradually passing from self-evident propositions, to the highest and most complex problems to which the human intellect can possibly be applied.

Thus, then—to adopt Dr. Whewell's argument—the reason is to be trained to accuracy and logical precision upon simple or abstract truths; and the power of correctly expressing such truths is to be attained by a study of the highest models which the world has yet seen.

By this thorough cultivation of the logical faculty, and by the attainment of the most precise and elegant forms of expressing its results, we are prepared for the Progressive study of things—of the mind itself, of the universe of matter, and of the forces which control and act upon it.

In actual life, material things must ever engage great part of our attention: by them the body is necessarily sustained and nourished; on them our art and industry must be unceasingly exerted; Providence has given them to us under forms which mask and conceal very many of their qualities and applications;—the well trained senses and reason must be brought to bear upon them before they disclose their whole virtues and value; by industry they are sought, out—by scientific method they are classified, and by skill they are applied to our ever varying wants—our necessities and our luxuries.

In this discrimination and adaptation of things to the purposes of life, we are often forced to be content with a less rigorous demonstration of the truth than in the case of abstract numbers, symbols and quantities; but still this very incompleteness of demonstration is all that we can attain to, and thus, it becomes assimilated to the mixed kind of reasoning and analysis required for the purpose of directing our intercourse with our fellow beings,—swayed like ourselves by influences not wholly physical, but partly material and partly intellectual and moral.

It is no sign of a cultivated reason therefore—or of a patriotic spirit either—to undervalue these the established principles and foundations of all Collegiate education; neither is it any sign of wisdom, I apprehend, but the contrary, to assert that in any country the period of life between—say fourteen and eighteen years of age, can be more worthily spent than upon such subjects; and it is no sign of folly, but of an enlightened concern for the country's weal, where such means of education have been established.

Were such a means of educating the youth of a country to be removed, who can foresee the amount of disgrace to those who proposed it, or the amount of evil which would ensue to others:—To them who thus effected the abolition of University education their posterity would owe it that they were "necessitated to be as illiterate, and withal full as insignificant as any of their ancestors."

For, were such an opportunity of training the reason denied, what security have we for the future progress or permanent advancement of knowledge and skill among the people; who could contemplate the darkness, the desolation, and disgrace which must ensue.

But, I imagine, that there are none so bold as to wish to signalize themselves by such a proposition; the only difficulty that has arisen, among us at least, is in regard to the subordination which these various parts and members of the system ought to have to each other—or the time to be allotted to each of them respectively—or to all of them together, in any well considered scheme of collegiate education.

I content myself with saying, that never—never can their individual importance, nor their mutual relations be misunderstood, without serious injury to the whole fabric: the exclusive, or almost exclusive study of any one branch of these fundamental matters must likewise certainly result in the formation of a one sided or incomplete character.

The education of our Common Humanity, (so far as Colleges are concerned,) must be based upon the whole three, thought— language—and the things upon which thought and language are to be chiefly occupied for the rest of life.

There are those who would confine the proper Collegiate curriculum to the cultivation of thought and language alone: there are also those who, as in the English universities, would have the preliminary training of the intellect, upon Classics and Mathematics chiefly, extended till the age of twenty two or thereabout, but for good reasons, I would protest against the application of such a scheme to New Brunswick.

There are others, again, who would begin by giving a professional education to lads, whose minds are as yet incapable of a power of sustained attention, and who are unprepared for general reasoning and speculation as to the why and the where-fore of any operation.

But, a professional education is one which is based upon the forementioned foundations: a profession is an art involving the foregoing primary studies in certain—perhaps variable proportions—with something farther superadded. When, therefore a professional curriculum is to be established, it would be vain to hope to do so successfully, unless the great foundations as aforesaid can be taught either in the same, or in some associated institution.

At the present day we have Medical Colleges, and Colleges of Chemistry—Colleges of Dentistry even—we have Colleges of Engineering, of Agriculture, of Law, and of Divinity—but they do not take the place of the Primary College, with its Permanent studies already alluded to: they are associated with it—in addition to it—in connection with it—or independent of it—according to the circumstances of the place and country. We have also Colleges for most of the different religious denominations, in these Colonies, founded by legislative enactment, and drawing grants of public money—a thing, which may work well enough in an old and densely populated community, but which surely saps the foundation of an effective Collegiate system here with us.

All truth, it has been said, is in some sense religious—as involving sundry forms of self-denial—it is a divine blossom upon an earthly root,—to use a German phrase; and a hearty love and desire for truth refines and elevates the mind; but, the clear appreciation of truth by the intellect alone is not all that is required for a happy triumph over the difficulties which beset the path of Humanity; we require that the intellect should be warmed by faith; we desire that the mind should not be cultivated to the injury of the soul, but rather that a sense of our duties and responsibilities as immortal creatures should regulate, direct and tincture all our thoughts and actions; we desire that high principle and religious thought should dominate and direct the intellect in all its operations; we desire to establish by reasoning irresistible, and by arguments "strong as Holy Writ," the propriety and the necessity of purity of life, and earnestness and loftiness of purpose. What we want, in short, is that which our own original charter has declared to be the express object of the foundation of this College, "1st, The education of youth in the principles of the Christian religion—and 2nd, Their instruction in the various branches of science and literature as they are taught in other Universities."

Without this controlling agency, the cultivation of merely intellectual results can never satisfy our nature or confer happiness upon the scholar.

It would be a sad world, in truth, if happiness really depended upon what is called a liberal education. There are but few, on the whole, who have the opportunity of attaining to that privilege:—the wants of life are ever urgent, and the greater proportion of mankind begin to labour and toil without their attaining—or, having had any opportunity of attaining to the culture of which I speak. Permanent happiness and contentment are, fortunately, much more generally distributed than a liberal education actually is. The happiness of living beings, in fact—whether educated or uneducated, high or low, rich or poor—depends mainly upon a sense of resignation, together with the consciousness of having taken reasonable pains to ascertain their duty, and, of having acted honestly and fairly to the best of their knowledge and ability under such a sense of duty.

Nevertheless, though this be undoubtedly true, it must never be forgotten that a liberal education—a collegiate education—such an education, in short, as is to be had within these walls, where the intellect is cultivated and trained under the sanction and direction of religious doctrines, forms and observances—such an education, I say, where intellectual and moral culture are combined, confers powers not only in regard to material, but also in regard to moral and religious concerns. It is capable not only of giving an effective mastery over the elements of material things, but of greatly elevating our aims, of vastly extending our views of duty, of greatly increasing the pleasure and satisfaction felt in the discharge of the various calls of duty—and so, of aiding us in fulfilling the same,

Every system of education, therefore, must be incomplete where this higher culture is not associated and entertwined with the other—where the intelligence alone is cultivated, and where the foundations of a religious, earnest, honorable and lofty, yet simple character, are neglected or overlooked.

Such a character secures unfailing respect in life, and conduct presided over by such principles can alone give comfort at the last. The man of mere intellect may dazzle for a time; but truth and virtue can alone secure permanent respect from without and permanent tranquillity within.

I need not say how surely the want of such lofty aims as those referred to, is calculated to undermine the path of genius and to bury it under its own ruins. I need not tell you how often the most gifted scholar—the most earnest and successful student gives way to the cares and passions, and lusts of every day life, until he is pointed at with the finger of scorn and sneeringly held up as a proof of the inutility or evil of a Collegiate education. I need not tell you how often this occurs—alas for poor human nature!—even under favourable circumstances; but give me leave to assure you that in very many cases also, where there is nothing that can be designated as vice ensuing, there is often an incompleteness—I can hardly give it any other name—an incompleteness in the character, which to Christian men must be a subject of very melancholy contemplation. As an extreme illustration of this incompleteness of character, let me cite the case of the great, perhaps England's greatest Chemist, the Hon. H. Cavendish, (who died 24th February, 1810, in the 79th year of his age,) one who weighed the earth—analyzed the air—discovered the compound action of water, and noted with precision the obscure actions of the ancient clement—fire:—

In the words of his biographer, Dr. Wilson, "His character was morally a blank, and can be only described as a series of negations. He did not love—he did not hate—he did not hope—he did not fear—he did not worship as others do. He separated himself from his fellow men, and apparently from God; there was nothing earnest, enthusiastic, heroic or chivalrous in his nature, and as little was there anything mean, grovelling or ignoble. He was almost passionless. All that needed for its apprehension more than the pure intellect, or required the exercise of fancy, imagination, affection or faith, was distasteful to Cavendish. An intellectual head thinking, a pair of wonderfully acute eyes observing, and a pair of very skillful hands experimenting or recording, are all that we realize in reading his memorials. His brain seems to have been but a calculating engine; his eyes inlets of vision, not fountains of tears; his hands instruments of manipulation, which never trembled with emotion, or were clasped together in adoration, thanksgiving or despair; his heart only an anatomical organ necessary for the circulation of the blood."

Such a character as the above, though not vicious, is wholly incomplete, and presents a melancholy picture of the effects induced by the predominance or inordinate cultivation of the mere intellect, and it is one against which I desire to warn those who may be most proud of the strength and lustre of their intellectual attainments merely.

In point of fact, goodness goes before intelligence, and virtue is better than profound learning. An upright, earnest, honorable character, and a clear and lofty aim, should be sought for along with correct scholarship. By manly virtue Genius is ennobled and directed, while learning without virtue, like a lamp in a sepulchre, only serves to exhibit the corruption which
reigns within.

Ripe scholarship therefore, must be considered to be subordinate to the acquisition of virtue and true faith. Add to your faith knowledge, says the inspired writer, and to your knowledge manly energy. These three elements of character—faith, knowledge, and manly energy—must co-exist in due combinationan3 subordination "to give the world assurance of a Man."

It is therefore, as you will perceive—by a just balance of the well established elements of a liberal education, illustrated and adorned by the pure light of revealed religion—it is by such means, I say, that the whole being of man is to be trained for all the business of peace or war—of time or of eternity: thus will the student become qualified to fulfill his duty to society and to his God, and thus only will he be enabled to work out in earnest the purpose of his being—the great work of humanity committed to his charge.

It is no doubt difficult to write year after year satisfactory Orations in praise of the Founders and Benefactors of this College, but seeing that the plan of the Institution is one which for so many ages has been successfully established in the Mother Country—and seeing that it commends itself so fully to the reason of mankind, it will be a long time before the merits of those who conceived and matured the original plan of a Collegiate education for the youth of New Brunswick, can be said to be exhausted—or at least, they ought never to be forgotten. My argument leads to no fulsome praises of individuals, but rather indicates the sound reasons which they have left us for gratefully commemorating the foundation of a Collegiate system in this country: and one, which if effectually carried out, is capable of conferring inestimable benefits upon the public.

But, in a new country—a country not abounding in wealth—it is difficult to get time—so it is said—to follow out any system of liberal education; I for one however, do not think that much time is lost by giving the first few years of opening manhood to the acquisition of a power of close and sustained reasoning upon any subject, special or abstract—a power of expression at once elegant and precise—and a systematic though general acquaintance with the system of the universe—the material constitution of our globe and the Divine scheme of nature. I would rather rejoice to think that all—every one of our youth, were to be thus trained and disciplined before becoming men. And I would say that they who make the benefits of our public collegiate system of education more accessible and more appreciated, are second only to those who first established and organized it.

The system herein pursued—(which is not the Oxford system, as is often said)—is based upon profound wisdom; and when the proper fruits of the system do not fully show themselves, this result may be probably ascribed either to the natural incapacity of the student—to the unskillfulness of the teacher—or to the inadequacy of the materials required in illustration. Systems are to be wrought out by living men. Good men may make a bad system work to advantage, and conversely, a good system may be endangered by bad management.

Every system in fact must be modified to meet the special circumstances, and adapted to the special exigencies of the country wherein it is to be applied.

But it is hardly right, after all, to suppose that even after a good plan of a liberal education has been organized and committed to proper teachers, that every thing is done; the sympathy and co-operation of others is still required; above all things, the divine blessing on the undertaking must be diligently sought for—ever remembering, that "although Paul may plant and Apollos may water, it is God alone who giveth the increase."

And, be it now our parting prayer that teachers and taught, parents and friends, and all others, may be enabled clearly to see and to fulfill their duty towards this Institution—that so it may commend itself unto all men for long succeeding years, as the honored instrument under Providence of affording to the young men of New Brunswick the elements of a sound and Catholic culture of the mind, not only concerning things secular and material, but especially as regards interests the most solemn and momentous—I mean, the fate of men’s' souls throughout Eternity.