The History of Dartmouth College
by Baxter Perry Smith
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"Your obedient and humble Serv^t. "Beza Woodward.

"N. B. Family are all asleep. Please give love to Ripley &c. &c.

The "Memoirs of Wheelock" contain the following paragraph relating to Professor Woodward:

"At the anniversary commencement of 1804, the Honorable Bezaleel Woodward, professor of Mathematics and Philosophy, departed this life. He had fulfilled the duties of a professor and Tutor from the foundation of the college. His profound knowledge of the abstruse and useful science of Mathematics, the facility of his instructions in natural and experimental Philosophy and Ethics, his condescending and amiable manners, will be long and gratefully remembered by those who have received the benefit of his instructions."

The "Monthly Anthology and Massachusetts Magazine" for September, 1804, has the following notice of Professor Woodward:

"Died at Hanover, New Hampshire, August 25, Hon. Bezaleel Woodward, Professor of Mathematics and Philosophy in Dartmouth College. Professor Woodward was born at Lebanon, in the State of Connecticut. In the twentieth year of his age he graduated at Yale College, 1764. After a few years successfully employed in the ministry, he was elected a tutor in this university. Here he soon displayed such talents and improvements, such readiness of thought and ease of communication, that he was appointed to the office of professor in Mathematics and Philosophy. The dignity with which he discharged the duties of his station is witnessed by all who have shared in his instruction. In the civil department, and as a member of society, he was no less eminent than as an instructor in college. We might also add his usefulness in the church of Christ at this place, of which he was long a worthy member, and high in the esteem and affections of his Christian brethren.

"His remains were interred on Tuesday, the 28th. The Rev. Doctor Smith delivered upon the occasion a well-adapted discourse. The officers, Trustees, and members of the college joined as mourners with the afflicted family, and the solemnities were attended by a very numerous collection of friends and acquaintance.

"The alumni of Dartmouth will join with its present officers and members in deploring the loss of a faithful and able instructor. Those who visited him in his late illness have had a specimen of decaying greatness, alleviated by an approving conscience, and sustained by resignation and hope. The friends of science will lament the departure of one of its enlightened patrons. Society sympathizes with the bereaved family, retaining a lively sense of his public and domestic virtues; and a numerous acquaintance will mingle their grief in bemoaning the loss of a sincere friend, a valuable citizen, and an exemplary Christian."

The records of the public life of Professor Woodward are thoroughly interwoven with the history of northern New England. Few pioneers in the valley of the upper Connecticut did more to promote the general welfare of the community.

His wife was Mary, daughter of Pres. Eleazar Wheelock.



Prof. John Hubbard succeeded Professor Woodward. We quote from a published eulogy by Rev. Elijah Parish, D.D., his college classmate.

"The Hon. John Hubbard, the son of John and Hannah (Johnson) Hubbard, late Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in this university, was born in Townsend, Mass., August 8, 1759. Dark and dismal was the dawn of that life, which has been so fair and luminous. Five months before his birth his father died, and this, in his last moments, when his children stood weeping round his dying bed, he made use of as an argument of consolation to them, entreating them not to weep, for God had taken care of him when a fatherless infant. During his minority most of his time was employed in the labors of agriculture. At the age of twenty-one he commenced his studies, and the next year became a member of this institution. In the second year of his residence at college, when many were awakened to a religious sense of divine things, our friend was one of the happy number. His subsequent life and death have proved that his conversion was not imaginary. While this increases our loss, it is the best reason for consolation.

"In his college life Mr. Hubbard was a youthful cedar of Lebanon. He gave visible tokens of his approaching eminence. So tenacious was his memory, that his progress in the languages was remarkably rapid. While he lived, the Greek and Roman writers were his amusement; and with a taste refined, he was charmed with their classic beauties; his memory was stored with numerous favorite passages.

"On leaving college, his love of study, his delight in religious inquiries, his devout regard for the best interests of man, led him to the study of theology. Becoming a preacher of the gospel, his voice, naturally small and feeble, was found to be ill adapted to such an employment. After a fair experiment his good sense forbade him to persevere. The transition was easy to his 'delightful task to teach the young idea how to shoot,' and form the minds of youth to science and virtue. Of the academy in New Ipswich he was elected preceptor. Under his able instruction that seminary rose to distinction, and became a favorite of the public. Some who were his pupils are already eminent in the walks of literature.

"After several years, quitting this situation, he was appointed Judge of Probate for the County of Cheshire. This office was peculiarly adapted to that gentle and tender philanthropy for which he was remarkable. It was luxury to him to comfort the widow and the fatherless. The blended resolution and exquisite sensibilities of his heart qualified him, in a singular manner, impartially to weigh the claims of justice and compassion. But this situation was not congenial with his love of study, and his delight in the instruction of youth, which was so pleasant, that he declared he would make it the business of his life. Accordingly he accepted the invitation of Deerfield Academy, Massachusetts, where for several years he continued with great reputation. After the death of Professor Woodward, who had, from its origin, been an able instructor in this university, he was elected his successor in the Professorship of Mathematics and Philosophy. So high was his reputation, that a successor of common attainments could not have satisfied the raised expectations of the public. To supply the place of such a man was the arduous task assigned to Mr. Hubbard. His success equaled the fond hopes of his friends. Here you rejoiced in his light; here he spent his last and his best days; here he had full scope for the various, the versatile powers of his vigorous mind. His amiable virtues, his profound learning, you cheerfully acknowledged.

"He had a happy facility in illustrating the practical advantages of every science. He not only explained its principles, but traced its relation to other branches of knowledge. Not satisfied by merely ascertaining facts, he explored the cause, the means, the ultimate design of their existence.

"Though he has been my intimate friend from cheerful youth, yet neither inspired by his genius, nor enriched with his attainments, it is not possible I should do justice to his merits. His person, muscular and vigorous, indicated the energy of his mind. Every feature of his face expressed the mildness of his spirit; never did I witness in him the appearance of anger. Without that undescribable configuration which constitutes beauty, his countenance was pleasing and commanded respect. Without formality or art, his manners were refined and delicate; his address was conciliatory and winning. By his social and compliant temper he was calculated for general society. Though instructed 'in the learning of Egypt,' and the civilized world, he was too discreet and benevolent to humble others by his superior lustre. His light was mild and clear, like that of the setting sun. He had no ambition to shine, or to court applause. More disposed to make others pleased with themselves than to excite their admiration, it is not strange that he was universally beloved. His heart was impressed with an exquisite sense of moral obligations. In every passing event, in every work of nature, the formation of a lake, a river, a cataract, a mountain, he saw God. When as a philosopher, surrounded with the apparatus of science, extending his researches to the phenomena of the universe, amazed at the minuteness of some objects, astonished at the magnitude and magnificence of others, his mind was transported; when he explored the heavens, and saw worlds balancing worlds, and other suns enlightening other systems, his senses were ravished with the wisdom, the power, the goodness of the Almighty Architect. On these subjects he often declaimed, with the learning of an astronomer, the simplicity of an apostle, the eloquence of a prophet. He illustrated the moral and religious improvement of the sciences; the views of his students were enlarged; the sciences became brilliant stars to irradiate the hemisphere of Christianity. The perfect agreement between sound learning and true religion was a favorite theme of his heart. This remark is confirmed by his conversation, his letters, his lectures.

"In theology his researches were not those of a polemic divine, but of a Christian, concerned for his own salvation and the salvation of others."

Professor Hubbard published several works, one of them being entitled "Rudiments of Geography." He died at Hanover, August 14, 1810.

His wife was Rebecca, daughter of Dr. John Preston, of New Ipswich.

* * * * *

Mr. Roswell Shurtleff was elected the second professor of Divinity in the college. We give some of the more important points in a published "Discourse," by Professor Long:

"Roswell Shurtleff, the son of William and Hannah (Cady) Shurtleff, was born at Ellington, then East Windsor, Ct., August 29, 1773. He was the youngest of nine children, two of whom died before he was born. From his earliest years he was fond of reading, and at school he was called a good scholar. His religious training was carefully attended to, and to this, and the Christian example which accompanied it, he ascribed his conversion, and the views he subsequently embraced of the Christian doctrines.

"When he was seven or eight years old he had many serious thoughts of God and duty. The requirement that he should give up all for God, as he understood it, filled him with gloom.

"During several of the subsequent years, the subject of religion dwelt on his mind, and he was occasionally deeply impressed. One of the difficult things was to comprehend the notion of faith. The promise was: 'He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.' He believed, as he supposed, and he had been baptized, but he could not feel that he was safe. Must he believe that he, personally, should be saved? But what if he mistook his own character, and believed what was false; would his opinion of his safety make him safe. He was ashamed to be known as a religious inquirer, and, therefore, remained longer in darkness. Finding that he had been observed by his father to have become a more diligent student of the Scriptures, he left the practice of reading them before the family. Sometimes, assuming a false appearance of indifference, he carried his difficulties to his mother, who was able to furnish a satisfactory solution. She seems to have been a person of unusual intelligence as well as goodness. Her memory was ever cherished by him with the most grateful affection, as it regarded his own spiritual progress. He believed that he suffered unspeakable loss from the concealment of his early feelings on the subject of religion, and did not doubt that many failed of conversion from this foolish reserve. It was not till a number of years after this that his religious life commenced.

"The only school which young Shurtleff had the opportunity of attending, before his eighteenth or nineteenth year, was the common school of the district. He made good proficiency, but nothing worthy of note occurred in relation to his studies till he was about fifteen years of age. He then began to think, as he says. Before that time, he had repeated by rote whatever he had been taught. The first impulse to reflection was a new discovery. He had been taught from childhood that accent is a stress of voice laid on some syllable or letter of a word. But this definition had not been illustrated by an example, and the classification of words by their accent, in the spelling-book, he had never understood. The definition had been to him an unmeaning collection of words. He now discovered what it meant. This was in itself a trifling event, but it led to the further discovery that other things, which he had been accustomed, parrot-like, to repeat memoriter, had a meaning; that the meaning of things was that which the student should be set to learn, and that his own education had, in this view, been greatly neglected. He says that a new world seemed to be opened to his view; that nothing now appeared so important as an opportunity to reflect on what he had learned, and that he was greatly displeased with the instructors by whom he had been so badly cheated. He resolved that, if ever he should be a teacher, he would propose it to himself, as his leading object, to make his pupils understand whatever they should study. This resolution he afterward had the opportunity of carrying into effect in five or six winter schools; and his attempt was attended with gratifying success.

"It was the opinion of Dr. Shurtleff, grounded on his own experience as learner and teacher, that too much importance is attached to the books used in schools; that the end to be reached is too generally regarded as the learning of the book rather than the mastery of the subject, and that books are too often prepared mainly with a view to abridge the labor of the teacher. He believed that, while the pupil might, through the text-book, possess himself of the knowledge of others, he was in danger of acquiring little which could be called his own.

"In consequence of using his eyes too soon, after his recovery from the measles, when he was about seventeen years old, Shurtleff was almost wholly cut off from the reading of books for two years, and he never afterward perfectly recovered from the injury resulting from this imprudence. He made some proficiency, however, by listening to the reading of others. About two years after this affliction he entered the academy at Chesterfield, N. H., whither his father's family had removed a few years before. He attended first to English studies. The weakness of his eyes continued, and he was considerably embarrassed for a time from the necessity of using the eyes of his friends. At length he commenced the study of Latin, going through Ross' Grammar, the only one then in use, in just two weeks, and then beginning to construe and parse in Corderius.

"He met, at the academy, one who had been his school-fellow and playmate, and with whom he was intimately associated from that time till the end of his college course,—the late Hon. Levi Jackson, who died at Chesterfield in 1821. They got out their lessons together, taking turns in looking out new words; and afterward, at college, where they were classmates and room-mates, continued the practice. Dr. Shurtleff felt under great obligations to this friend and helper, and said that 'few friendships among men had been more ardent, confiding and permanent.'

"Shurtleff had supposed, at first, that the Greek language was beyond his reach, on account of his infirmity of sight. But some improvement having taken place, he ventured to commence the study. He went through the Westminster Greek Grammar, the book then in use, in one week, and began to read the Gospel of John. Having completed the New Testament, and read several books of Homer's Iliad, he was reputed in the school as tolerably versed in Greek. He and Jackson studied from the love of study, and did not think of college till a year before they applied for admission, at Commencement, in 1797, and entered the Junior class in this institution.

"The round of college duties presents few marked events. Time has left no record of most of the occurrences which diversified and enlivened the period from 1797 to 1799. How the two friends studied, and read, and discussed, and recreated together, has been lost, just as the facts of our daily life will be lost sixty years hence. They made constant and good progress. They were about equally good scholars, neither of them being a dead weight upon the other. Each was happy in the other's proficiency. The amount of learning requisite for a degree was less then than now. Sciences have been introduced into the course which were then in their infancy. But it may be doubted whether the students of our day have the advantage over those of an earlier period, in respect to thoroughness as well as extent of attainment. They read fewer books, in the first years of the college, but they thought the more. They were as well disciplined and able, and as competent to handle a difficult subject, I imagine, as our students, if they were not as well informed. We know from the esteem in which Shurtleff was held by the Trustees and Faculty, as it appeared not long after his graduation, that he was one of the best scholars of his time.

"Peculiar interest attaches to the religious experience of Shurtleff during his college course.

"He had performed some of the duties of a Christian before he supposed himself to possess the Christian character. The first school he taught he opened daily with prayer, persevering in the practice as a conscientious duty, in spite of many misgivings and much timidity. And this he did in every school he afterward taught. He kept up the habit of secret prayer, at the same time, asking more earnestly than for anything else, that his weak eyes might be cured, and that he might have the means of intellectual improvement.

"He seems to have supposed that during his senior winter vacation he became a true Christian.

"Soon after his return to college, he intimated a desire to a classmate, who, as he supposed, was the only professor of religion in the class, to join with others in a private meeting for religious conference and prayer. He had never attended, or even heard of such a meeting. After a little delay he was surprised to learn from his friend that such a meeting as he had proposed had been held for years, and that he was desired to attend. On the Saturday evening following, he and five or six other persons assembled, and by the free interchange of thought and feeling, and the apparently humble prayers that were offered, he felt himself greatly refreshed and quickened. On leaving college he regretted the loss of nothing more than of these Saturday evening conference meetings.

"The time had now come for choosing a profession. His success in teaching led him to seek for a situation in an academy; but no opening of this kind presented itself, and he believed himself thus providentially called to preach the gospel. There were at the time no theological seminaries; the students of the distinguished clergymen who gave instruction in theology were supposed to represent the views of their teacher; and that he might not be thought to go forth as the advocate of some exceptionable ism, Mr. Shurtleff chose to study theology by himself. Having pursued this course one year, he was appointed a tutor in the college, and at the same time was licensed to preach. The pressure of a considerable debt hastened the period of obtaining license, but we may be certain, from the opportunities subsequently enjoyed, and from the character of the man, that any deficiency he may have felt at first, from hasty preparation, was abundantly supplied.

"Mr. Shurtleff continued in the tutorship from 1800 to 1804, and was also engaged, for the greater part of the time, in preaching in vacant parishes.

"After the close of the four years' tutorship, Mr. Shurtleff was appointed a professor of Divinity in the college. It was a part of his duty to preach to the students and the people of the village. The church was at that time Presbyterian. The predecessor of Professor Shurtleff—Professor Sylvanus Ripley—had been the pastor of this church. Since his death, in 1787, Dr. John Smith, professor of Languages, previously associate pastor with Professor Ripley, had been the sole pastor of the church. Dr. Backus, of Conn., Dr. Worcester, of Salem, and Dr. Alexander, of Princeton, had been appointed at different times to the vacant professorship, but all had declined, in consequence, as it was supposed, of the influence of Dr. John Wheelock, the second president of the college. Professor Shurtleff accepted the office, expecting that the same causes which had kept it so long vacant would render it an uncomfortable post. The difficulties which he feared, he was called to encounter. The president wished him to become the colleague of Professor Smith in the pastoral office, but he refused,—agreeing in his decision with the views of the largest part of the church and of the village. In consequence of this disagreement, a controversy ensued which lasted several years, and ended in the law-suit between the college and the State, in 1816-17. In July, 1805, twenty-two persons, professors of religion, were constituted 'The Congregational Church at Dartmouth College.' To this church, and the religious society of which it was a part, Professor Shurtleff was invited to preach, performing pastoral labors so far as his other duties would permit. Professor Smith was, meanwhile, the pastor of the Presbyterian church till the time of his death, in April, 1809. Professor Shurtleff was ordained as an evangelist, at Lyme, N. H., in 1810. He continued in this relation until the year 1827.

"The literary labors of his office would have been quite sufficient to occupy all his time. In addition to these, an amount of work nearly equal to that of any pastor of a church was imposed on him—fully equal, perhaps, we shall say, if we consider the character of the congregation to whom he ministered. He was faithful and assiduous, both as a preacher and a pastor. But he performed the many duties of his station with acceptance and success. And he had the satisfaction of seeing that his efforts were crowned with the special blessing of God. In 1805 God displayed his saving power among the students and people of the village. As many as forty persons became Christians during the revival. But the most extensive and powerful work of grace, probably, which the church ever enjoyed was that of 1815. The revival began in the hearts of God's people. Some of the pious students resolved that they would every day talk with some unconverted person respecting the interests of his soul. The effect of this soon appeared in a general religious awakening. In one week forty persons expressed hope in Christ, and in four weeks as many as one hundred and twenty persons were supposed to be converted. There were also revivals in 1819, 1821, and 1826,—that of 1821 being the most extensive, and embracing among the converts a greater number of citizens than of students. Public religious meetings were less numerous during the revivals than in most of those of a later period. It was before the day of protracted meetings. Perhaps there was less reliance then on means, and more on the Spirit of God. It was not thought necessary that business should be suspended, and every day converted into a Sabbath. But such means as the state of feeling seemed to require were faithfully used. Professor Shurtleff was never happier than when engaged in conversation with inquirers, or in conducting meetings for conference and prayer. The informality and freedom of these meetings made them attractive. They were probably quite as useful as the more regular ministrations of the pulpit. The speaker can say that he never visited a more solemn place than the old district school-house—which stood where the brick school-house now stands—often was, on a Sunday evening during the progress of a conference meeting. A distinguished professor of a neighboring college, who was here in 1815, says that 'The evidence of an increasing seriousness among the students at large, in that revival, was first shown, so far as I can recollect, by the more crowded attendance at these meetings.' Not that the more formal services of the Sabbath were not also impressive and profitable. The same gentleman says of the preaching of Professor Shurtleff at this time: 'The general impression made on me by several of his sermons I remember to the present day. I liked to hear him preach, even before I took any especial interest in religion as a personal concern. His sermon on the text, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended," etc., produced a deep effect at the time of its delivery which was not soon forgotten. I remember the stillness and solemnity of the audience. This sermon must have been delivered some little time before the revival.' The same gentleman further states, that 'During the whole of this revival, and the gathering in of the fruits of it into the church, Professor Shurtleff was the leading instrument of the work, so far as human agency was concerned. He went into it with his whole heart. I have seen him and his excellent wife almost overpowered with joy when told of a new case of conversion among the students. He did a great deal—all that one man could do, as it seemed to me—to promote the good work by his own personal efforts.' It is in the power of the speaker to give similar testimony respecting the revival of 1821.

"When Professor Shurtleff entered upon the duties of his professorship, and for many years afterward, he met with much opposition. But his position was constantly growing stronger, both as it respects the sympathy of his Christian brethren and the clergy, and his popularity as an instructor. I have not been able to learn that there was a whisper of discontent with his instructions during the whole of the period from 1804 to 1827. The testimony of one of the best students of the Class of 1816 is, that 'As an instructor, particularly in Moral Philosophy, he was much thought of; and we were careful never to miss one of his recitations on this subject. His way of putting questions, and answering such as were proposed to himself, showed great judgment and shrewdness.' Quite a number of persons in the classes for seven or eight years following the time here referred to, were pre-eminent as scholars and as men. May not the fact be partly accounted for by the impulse and guidance of the mind of this instructor? He constituted a large portion of the faculty from 1815 to 1819, there being at that time only two professors,—Professor Adams and Professor Shurtleff. The graduates of the college who had been his pupils were never backward in acknowledging their obligations to him.

"In 1810, Professor Shurtleff was united in marriage with Miss Anna Pope, only daughter of Rev. Joseph Pope of Spencer, Mass. Of her he said, 'She was truly an helpmeet—one who did me good and not evil all the days of her life.' By her vivacity and cheerfulness she was eminently fitted to comfort him in his hours of suffering and depression. But it pleased God to take her from him in March, 1826, after having enjoyed with her, during sixteen years, a degree of domestic happiness which rarely falls to the lot of man. He also lost two children, sons, in 1820, after a brief illness. Respecting the oldest, he had already begun to indulge very pleasing anticipations, although he was less than five years old at the time of his decease. Little did the speaker then know, when helping to carry to the grave the remains of these children, who, if they had survived, would now have been men of mature age, what hopes he was assisting to bury! But who knows the future? It was better they should die, than that they should live to dishonor him and themselves. The husband and father mourned incessantly, though not without resignation, for these bereavements, till the time of his own death.

"In 1825, Professor Shurtleff was in very feeble health, from the spring till Commencement. The Trustees adjourned at that time to reassemble in November, supposing it might be necessary then to appoint another professor of Divinity. But by the blessing of God on medical advice and careful nursing, he was able to resume instruction before the meeting of the Trustees.

"In January, 1827, Professor Shurtleff was transferred from the professorship of Divinity to one newly established, of Moral Philosophy and Political Economy, which he filled till the year 1838, when, by his own resignation, his active labors in the college ceased. It was understood, when this appointment was made, that Professor Shurtleff should instruct in all the Senior classes, and should also hear the recitations of other classes in particular branches. During the last half of this period, he preached in vacant neighboring parishes. No particular account of the literary labors of these years can be required. Any one of them may be regarded as a fair sample of the rest. A member of the class of 1828 can testify that that class greatly enjoyed his instructions. We never heard the summons to the recitation-room without pleasure. We were always interested and excited, always profited. The questions were put by the professor in the plainest Saxon. They were well adapted to develop the knowledge or the ignorance of the student, as the case might be, but not to give him undue assistance. If there was anything in the text-book which was obscure, the questions made it plain. A clearly wrong opinion advanced by an author was briefly, yet thoroughly, exposed. His own opinions were lucidly stated and sustained, and for the time being, at least, we seldom saw reason to differ from him. The recitation was enlivened with anecdote, illustration, and wit, and never dragged heavily. If our objections were sometimes curtly silenced, it was so effectually and handsomely done that we bore it with perfect good-nature. He ever lent a willing ear to our real difficulties, and assisted in their removal. Together with unusual freedom in the mode of conducting the recitations, there was good order and earnest attention to the subject in hand. He knew how to control us, while he had with us all the sympathy of a young man and an equal. I think it was the opinion of the class that Professor Shurtleff, in his ripe manhood, had few equals as an instructor.

"At the time of his retirement, in 1838, Dr. Shurtleff had been in the service of the college thirty-eight years. After what manner he has lived among us since that time, most of this audience know. He has not been noticeably active in the affairs of the village, but when you have met him in private intercourse, you have known that he retained the fine social qualities—the love of story-telling, and the keen, yet harmless wit—for which he was always remarkable. Those whose memory goes back thirty years, must have noticed, I think, that he became more uniformly serene and cheerful in the latter part of his life. The old graduates of the college who revisited the place know how cordially he received them, and with what hearty zest he recalled with them the scenes of their college days. He continued to be deeply interested in the prosperity of the college, and he was the means of eliciting in its behalf the interest and the benevolence of his friends. He continued the habit, commenced at an early period, of assisting students who were in needy circumstances. These were objects of benevolence toward which he was naturally drawn. In his feelings he never grew old, but carried forward the vivacity of youth into old age; and always enjoyed the society of the young. He loved to have young men about him; and he has thus, by his unobtrusive charities and counsels, and his interesting and instructive conversation, been a benefactor to a large number of students. The spiritual welfare of the college was near his heart. He had passed through many revivals of religion, and he longed for the return of such seasons. He devoutly observed the days set apart for prayer for colleges, and, as you remember, often urged the students, assembled on those occasions, to give their hearts to God.

"When he left his post as an instructor he was sixty-five years old. After this he had more than twenty-two years of leisure, during which he retained, in a remarkable degree, the vigor of his intellectual powers. But he had good and sufficient reasons, as he judged, for his resignation; and no new and suitable field of labor presenting itself to a man who wanted but a few years of threescore and ten, he could enjoy the offered leisure with a good conscience, occupying it with such pursuits as his taste suggested. Even at the time when his labors were the most multiplied, and the church and the college were successively engaged in bitter controversy, he had but little to do with administrative and practical matters. Even then a life of reflection appeared to be more attractive than a life of action. And when his public duties were ended, he naturally chose such a life. He was still intellectually active. He could not let his faculties sink into sluggish repose if he would. His temperament would not suffer it. If he was not a hard student, he was, what he had always been, a thinking man to the last."

In a published notice of Professor Shurtleff, by Professor (now President) Brown, we find the following language:

"The life of Dr. Shurtleff extended over the largest and most important part of that of the institution itself. For nearly twenty years he was college preacher, and at the same time pastor of the church on Hanover Plain,—during which period more than two hundred persons connected themselves with the church, a large proportion of them by original profession. In the contest of the college with the State, he and the late venerable Professor Adams, with the president, constituted the permanent Faculty for instruction and government. Upon the issues then presented he exerted a full measure of influence, though it was comparatively quiet and private.

"As a professor, Dr. Shurtleff had some remarkable qualities. He possessed a mind of extraordinary subtleness and acuteness, ever alert, active and ingenious. Whatever he saw, he saw distinctly, and was able, with equal clearness, to express to another. If a student were really perplexed, he knew how to relieve him by a pertinent example or illustration, but it was generally done by a question or a suggestion which demanded the activity of the student's own mind, and disciplined while it, helped him. If a pupil, on the other hand, were captious, or conceited, he was apt to find himself, before he suspected it, inextricably entangled in a web of contradictions, where he was sometimes left till he came to a sense of his weakness, or till he was dismissed with the benign declaration that 'he might sit.'

"Dr. Shurtleff's wit was sharp and pungent, and on any occasion which involved the exercise of it he was quite equal to his part. He sometimes engaged in controversy, and versed as he was in all logical art, those who encountered him once were seldom anxious to provoke a second contest. His opinions, both religious and philosophical, were early settled and firmly held. He was in nothing given to change; his friends were generally the friends of his life, and those who were familiar with his habits of thought could easily tell where, upon any given question, he would probably be found.

"His interest in young men was a noticeable trait in Dr. Shurtleff's character, while preacher to the college; the effect of his private conversations and friendly advice was almost equal to that of his public ministrations. His quiet study was often the scene of meetings for prayer or religious conversation from which were carried away influences for good, never to be forgotten, and for which many were grateful to their dying day.

"The efforts of deserving young men to obtain a liberal education always excited his sympathy, and there has seldom been a time for many years when some such one has not been a member of his own family, aided and encouraged by his kindness. The number thus assisted no one can now tell, nor probably could he himself. It was greater than most persons would think possible.

"The last twenty years of his life Dr. Shurtleff spent in dignified retirement, in the enjoyment of a competency, and in full exercise of his faculties. He especially enjoyed the visits of former pupils, no one of whom seemed to be lost from his retentive memory, and the annual commencements were always exhilarating reunions to him. His conversation, at such times especially, abounded in anecdote and reminiscences of earlier days, and his cheerfulness survived to the end. He has seldom, of late years, taken part in any public service, the last time he did so being at the meeting of the alumni of Dartmouth in 1859, to initiate measures for properly noticing the death of Mr. Choate."

A volume would be required to set forth adequately the value of the public services of this distinguished educator, who acted a most important part in strengthening the foundations and adorning the superstructure of a leading literary institution. Professor Shurtleff died at Hanover, February 4, 1861.



Professor Ebenezer Adams succeeded Professor Hubbard. From a reliable source we have received, in substance, the following statements:

"Ebenezer Adams, the son of Ephraim and Rebecca (Locke) Adams, was born at New Ipswich, N. H., October 2, 1765. His father was a farmer in moderate circumstances, and having a large family of children, nineteen in all, he could not give them many educational advantages, but they shared in such as were commonly enjoyed in those days. The subject of this sketch, however, earnestly desired something more; he had set his heart upon obtaining a higher education, and ultimately succeeded in doing so. After becoming nearly or quite of age, he commenced preparation for Dartmouth College, which he entered in 1787, graduating with honor in 1791, and in the following year he became preceptor of Leicester Academy, where he remained fourteen years, laboring faithfully and very successfully in the instruction of those under his care. While there he married, in 1795, Miss Alice Frink, of Rutland, Mass., who died early, leaving five young children. In 1806 he removed to Portland, where he engaged as teacher in the academy, and it was while residing there that he came under the pastoral care of Rev. Dr. Payson, and in a time of general revival he was deeply interested in religious truth and became a subject of renewing grace. He publicly professed his faith in Christ and united with Dr. Payson's church. While there he formed a second marriage with Miss Beulah Minot, of Concord, Mass., who became the mother of his two youngest children, and the subsequent year he taught in Phillips Academy, Exeter, but he did not long remain there.

"In 1809, he was called to Dartmouth College, where for one year he was Professor of Languages, and was then transferred to the professorship of Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and Astronomy, which he held until the appointment of a successor, in 1833. As a teacher he was faithful, patient, laborious, earnestly desiring the best good of his pupils, whose affection he often succeeded in gaining, their esteem always. Possessed of much intellectual force, of sound and varied attainments in learning, which he had the happy faculty of imparting to others clearly and distinctly, he was thus eminently fitted for the position of instructor, so many years occupied by him. He was truly devoted to the interests of the college, and ever ready to make efforts and sacrifices for it, and in those dark days, when its fate hung in suspense, he was deeply anxious, and had no small share in aiding and sustaining it through the struggle. During President Brown's illness, and after his death, for more than two years in all, he filled the office of president in addition to his own, thus having a great increase of care and responsibility, and the same thing occurred on other occasions, when the college was temporarily without a head. He did not enjoy the situation, for while he truly delighted in teaching, he found the enforcement of discipline very irksome; still he was faithful and energetic in it when it became his duty.

"He was interested in every good cause, philanthropic and religious, especially in the Bible Society, of which he was for many years the presiding officer in New Hampshire; in the Colonization Society, which he then thought the only possible agency for removing the curse of Slavery; in Foreign Missions and in Temperance, of which he was an earnest and able advocate. In this connection it should be mentioned that he was Trustee and Treasurer of Kimball Union Academy, at Meriden, almost from its first commencement until nearly the close of his life, and in the success end prosperity of that institution he always felt a deep interest, and labored to promote its welfare.

"After his resignation in 1833, he devoted much of his leisure to objects of public interest, to the affairs of the town and village, in which several important trusts were committed to him, and of the church, in which for years he had worthily filled the office of deacon. In these he was actively and usefully employed, even to the last, and thus, in the unfailing resource of reading and study which he enjoyed, in the society of attached friends, and of the dear family circle, those closing years of his life passed away cheerfully, happily, leaving blessed memories behind them. He was quite active in his habits and usually of firm and vigorous health. It almost seemed as if he had been stricken down in his full strength, so sudden and short was his last illness. A heart-disease, of which he had suffered some symptoms a few months before, attacked him with great violence, and after ten days of intense suffering and distress, during which he manifested a true submission to God's will, and a calm reliance in Christ, his atoning Saviour, he 'fell asleep in Jesus,' August 15, 1841.

"The college, the church, the village, mourned his departure, but nowhere was it so deeply felt as in the home which had so long been blest with his presence and affection. For in all family relations he was most truly kind and affectionate, in social life, genial and friendly, especially, even to the last, delighting in little children, and in the society of the young, generous and public-spirited, of spotless integrity in business affairs, faithful, earnest and skillful as a teacher, in all his ways a sincere and humble follower of the Lord Jesus."

His associate, Professor Stowe, says:

"Professor Adams was one of the stoutest of that noble band of men who upheld Dartmouth College in the great crisis through which it passed, and thus established, not only the principles on which that venerable and most useful institution maintained its existence, but gave the foundation for permanency to all other educational institutions in our country, for it was the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States, in the Dartmouth College case, that became the magna charta of all our colleges.

"Sailors speak of 'men who in a storm can ascend to the mast-head, and hold on with their eyelids' while they use both hands to adjust the rigging. Such were the men who saved Dartmouth College during that great conflict.

"A little girl once said that if God really did make the whole universe in six days, she should like to know what he stood on while he was making it.

"Such a question has often occurred to me in thinking of that period in the history of Dartmouth College. What had the champions of the college to stand on? But they did stand, and did their work completely, and for all time.

"Professor Adams had just the qualities for such an emergency. His was the sturdy self-reliance, the unshrinking courage, the indomitable perseverance, and the unwavering faith in God, which holds what it has and carries what it holds. His was not the coward's courage, which consists in the denying of the danger, but the courage of the brave man, which sees the danger and faces it."

A pupil says:

"Professor Adams was 'a manly man,' well-proportioned, broad-shouldered, with a commanding presence and amiable countenance. He was bold, earnest, energetic, persevering; artless, and honest as the day. He said exactly what he meant. His mental vision was clear, strong, and accurate. Imagination was never active; oratory was not his forte. Demonstrative evidence suited him best. In his religious character he was conscientious, devout, and reverent, never excited nor sentimental."

* * * * *

In "Sprague's Annals of the American Pulpit" we find this account of Prof. Zephaniah Swift Moore. "He was the son of Judah and Mary (Swift) Moore, and was born at Palmer, Mass., November 20, 1770. His parents were in the middle walks of life, and were much esteemed for their integrity and piety. When he was seven or eight years old, he removed with his father's family to Wilmington, Vt., where he worked upon a farm till he was about eighteen. From his early childhood he evinced great inquisitiveness of mind, and an uncommon thirst for knowledge; in consequence of which, his parents consented to aid him in acquiring a collegiate education. Having prosecuted his preparatory studies at an academy in Bennington, Vt., he entered Dartmouth College, when he was in his nineteenth year. He graduated in 1793, and delivered on the occasion a philosophical oration on the 'causes and general phenomena of earthquakes,' which was received with marked approbation.

"On leaving college, he took charge of an academy at Londonderry, N. H., where he gained the reputation of an able and faithful teacher. Having occupied this post for a year, he repaired to Somers, Conn., and commenced the study of Theology under the direction of the Rev. Dr. Charles Backus; and, having gone through the usual course of preparation for the ministry, was licensed to preach by a committee of the Association of Tolland County, February 3, 1796. After preaching to good acceptance in various places, and receiving several invitations to a permanent settlement in the ministry, he finally accepted a call from the Congregational church and congregation in Leicester, Mass. Here his labors proved alike acceptable and useful. Very considerable additions were made to the church, and the spirit and power of religion became increasingly visible under his ministrations. During a part of the time that he resided at Leicester, he joined to his duties as a minister those of principal of the Leicester Academy; and here, also, he acquitted himself with much honor.

"In October, 1811, he accepted the chair of professor of Languages in Dartmouth College. Here he was greatly respected as a man, a teacher, and a preacher; and if his attainments in his department were not of the very highest order, they were at least such as to secure both his respectability and usefulness.

"In 1815, he was elected to the presidency of Williams College, then vacant by the resignation of Dr. Fitch. He accepted the appointment, and was regularly inducted into office at the annual Commencement in September of that year. Shortly after his removal to Williamstown, Dartmouth College, which he had just left, conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He adorned this new station, as he had done those which he had previously occupied. His connection with the college was attended by some circumstances of peculiar embarrassment, in consequence of an effort on the part of the Trustees to remove the college to Northampton or some other town in Hampshire County. The measure failed in consequence of the refusal of the Legislature to sanction it. Dr. Moore, however, decidedly favored it from the beginning, but in a manner that reflected not in the least upon his Christian integrity and honor.

"In the spring of 1821, the collegiate institution at Amherst, Mass., having been founded, he was invited to become its President, and was inaugurated as such in September following. The institution, then in its infancy, and contending with a powerful public opinion, and even with the Legislature itself, for its very existence, put in requisition all his energies; and the ultimate success of the enterprise was no doubt to be referred, in no small degree, to his discreet, earnest, and untiring efforts. In addition to his appropriate duties as president and as chairman of the Board of Trustees, he heard the recitations of the Senior class, and part of the recitations of the Sophomore class, besides taking occasional agencies with a view to increase the funds of the institution. His constitution, naturally strong, was over-taxed by the efforts which he felt himself called to make, and had begun perceptibly to yield, before the last violent attack of disease which terminated his life.

"On Wednesday, the 25th of June, 1823, he was seized with a bilious colic, which reached a fatal termination on the Monday following. During the brief period of his illness, the greatest anxiety prevailed in the college, and unceasing prayer was offered in his behalf. His own mind was perfectly tranquil, and he anticipated the closing scene and passed through it without a word or look that told of apprehension. In the very moment of breathing out his spirit, he uttered in a whisper,—'God is my hope, my shield, my exceeding great reward.' The funeral solemnities were attended on the Wednesday following, and an appropriate sermon was delivered on the occasion by the Rev. Dr. Snell, of North Brookfield.

"Dr. Moore lived to celebrate the first anniversary of the institution, and to see more than eighty of its students professedly religious, and preparing for extensive usefulness among their fellow men.

"Shortly after his settlement at Leicester, he was married to Phebe, daughter of Thomas Drury, of Ward, now Auburn, Mass., who survived him. They had no children.

"Dr. Moore published an Oration at Worcester on the 5th of July, 1802; Massachusetts Election Sermon, 1818; an Address to the public in respect to Amherst College, 1823; a Sermon at the ordination of Dorus Clark, Blandford, 1823."


"Westfield, Mass., November 16, 1849.

"Dear Sir: You have requested me to give you my impressions and recollections of President Moore. They are all exceedingly pleasant, and yet I must say he was a man of such equanimity of temper and uniformity of life, that I am unable to single out one act or saying of his that produced a deeper impression than others.

"My first introduction to him was in the spring of 1818, when I was ushered into his study with a letter of recommendation for admission to Williams College. It was to me a fearful moment, but the cordial manner in which I was received, and his kind inquiries after his friend who had furnished me with a letter, made me at once easy in his presence. I found that he had the heart of a man, and through an acquaintance of several years, to the time of his death, he manifested the same kindness and cordiality that he did the first time I saw him.

"He was a man of medium stature, rather corpulent, his complexion sallow, the top of his head nearly bald, there being a slight sprinkling of hair between the forehead and crown. His voice, though not loud, was clear and pleasant, and in animated conversation and in the pulpit pitched upon the tenor key.

"He was dignified in his appearance, serious in his aspect, instructive and agreeable in his conversation, kind and benevolent in his feelings, modest and unassuming in his manners, deliberate and cautious in coming to a conclusion, but firm and determined when his position was taken. If a student had at any time spoken against him, he would have been regarded as a rebel against law and order. In managing cases of discipline, he was calm and entirely self-possessed.

In preaching, he had very little action; and yet there was an impressiveness in his manner that fixed the attention of his hearers. In the more animated parts of his discourse, his utterance became more rapid, and the sound of his voice shrill and tremulous, showing that he felt deeply the force of the sentiments he uttered. In his religious views, I know not that he differed from the great mass of the orthodox clergy of New England, of his day.

"Such are my recollections of President Moore.

"Yours truly, "Emerson Davis."

The following tribute to one of Dartmouth's most eminent and honored teachers is from a "Discourse" by Professor (now President) Brown.

"Charles Bricket Haddock was born in that part of Salisbury, N. H., which is now Franklin, June 20, 1796. His mother was Abigail Webster, an older sister of Ezekiel and Daniel Webster. She had two children, Charles and William. She was a person of uncommon excellence and loveliness, a favorite with her brothers, who always spoke of her with great affection. She was a religious woman, and on her death-bed manifested great solicitude for her sons, especially dedicating the oldest, Charles, to the Christian ministry. This expression of feeling was almost the only recollection which Mr. Haddock had of his mother.

"The place of his birth was retired, but full of rural beauty; the rushing Merrimac-making sweet music of a summer evening, the broad intervals basking in the summer sun, the granite mountains 'dumbly keeping watch all round,' from whose summits, looking almost to the White Hills on one side, and almost to the sea on the other, you would behold a landscape picturesque and lovely beyond the power of description. The quiet scenes of his youth, the simple pleasures, and the common amusements of village life, varied with few excitements, could not have been without their effect upon the mind of a sensitive boy. To what age he was left to these alone, I do not know.

"He fitted for college mainly at the academy in Salisbury, and entered in 1812. Nature had done more for him than his instructors, and he very soon took the position, which he ever maintained, as intellectual leader in a class, which, though small, numbered among its members several young men of distinguished ability. In that little community he was at once the best scholar and the most popular man. 'In looks,' writes one of his class-mates,[41] 'Haddock was decidedly the most striking man in the class. He was tall and well-proportioned. He had an intellectual cast of features, a well-chiseled profile,—and altogether you might pronounce him a man intended for a scholar, and destined, if he lived, to make his mark in the world. I, who entered college a mere boy, singled him out the first day. He was always an industrious student. He never failed of a recitation, so far as I can remember, and he never failed to be prepared for it.'

[41] Professor Torrey, of Burlington.

"Adding thus to the distinction of attainment and scholarship so much beauty of person, so much modesty, gentleness, and propriety of demeanor, it was natural that he should be regarded as a model young man, nor was there wanting that profounder moral element, without which no character can be complete.

"The year 1815 was memorable in the religious history of the college. The period immediately preceding had been marked by unusual religious depression. In some classes only one person, and but a few in any of them, made profession of a serious religious purpose. Of this small number, there were some, however, whose feelings were deep, and whose lives were exemplary. To them,—not more, perhaps, than eight or ten in all,—was due, under the Divine favor, the moral regeneration of the college. First among those who, in that 'Great awakening,' avowed his purpose of a new life, was Mr. Haddock, then in the summer of his Junior year. The avowal was open, unreserved, and decisive, and, it is almost unnecessary to add, produced a strong sensation. From that time no one in college exerted a more positive influence in favor of personal religion, and not a few traced their own most serious thoughts to his example and to his faithfulness.

"This change in his feelings naturally determined his course in life, and immediately after taking his first degree he entered the seminary at Andover as a student in Theology. Here he pursued the profound and difficult studies of his profession with a more than ordinary breadth of scholarship, mingling classical and literary studies with those of theology, but entering with zeal and a chastened enthusiasm into all the duties and requirements of the place.

"He remained at Andover about two years, when, on account of a threatened pulmonary complaint, he made a journey to the South, going as far as Savannah, and spending the winter in various parts of the Southern States. Having performed a considerable part of the tour on horseback, he returned, in 1819, invigorated in health, and with a mind enlarged and liberalized by what were then quite unusual opportunities of observation and society, and was at once appointed to the newly established chair of Rhetoric, at the early age of twenty-three years. The college had but just gained the victory in its desperate struggle for existence. It was poor, but hopeful, and it moved forward with a policy of enlargement, determined to keep pace with all advancing learning and culture.

"Before that time, the duties of the new department had been distributed among all the college officers, and necessarily must have lacked something in fullness and method. No other New England college, except Harvard and Yale, then possessed such an officer, and the first appointment to the post in New Haven bears date but two years earlier."

"As an instructor, Professor Haddock was one of the best I ever knew. I never knew a better. It is with unfeigned gratitude that I remember my obligations to him, and I know I speak for thousands. As a critic, he was discriminating and quietly suggestive, guided by a taste that was nearly immaculate. His scholarship was unobtrusive, and his manner without ostentation. He made no pretense of knowledge, but it was always sufficient, always fresh, always sound. The range of his thought was broad. His mind was versatile and active. You could hardly find a subject with which he was not somewhat familiar, or in which he would not readily become interested. His opinions were never fantastic, nor exaggerated, nor disproportioned. He was not, perhaps, so exacting nor so stimulating a teacher as some, but he was careful, clear, distinct, and encouraging. He saw the difficulty in the mind of the pupil, if there was one, adapted himself with admirable facility to his wants, and by a lucid statement, a test question, or a distinct suggestion, would often free a subject from its obscurity, so that the way would all be in clear sunlight. He felt that, in education, the best results are not produced violently, but by influences quiet and protracted, gradually, but potently, moulding the affections and the life, 'finely touching the spirit to fine issues.'"

"In 1846, Professor Haddock published a volume of 'Addresses and Miscellaneous Writings,' gathered from reviews, and from his speeches before the New Hampshire Legislature, and on various public occasions. These are marked by the peculiar completeness and finish which characterized all his productions. There is in them no superfluous word, no affectation, no straining after effect, but much that is wise and everything that is tasteful. Yet, interesting as they are, I hardly feel as if they give an adequate expression of his rich and varied abilities. His more recent writings,—notes of foreign travels, lectures, and discourses,—he had begun to prepare for the press, when he was so suddenly taken from us, and I am glad to hope that some of them may yet see the light.

"For many years Professor Haddock acted as secretary of the New Hampshire Education Society. In discharge of the duties of this office, sometimes little more than a sinecure, he made it an object to bring before the society, in his annual reports, subjects of permanent interest. In looking them over, I perceive such topics as these: 'Objections to Charitable Education,' 'The Standard of Education for the Pulpit,' 'The Influence of Educated Mind,' 'Personal Qualifications for the Pulpit,' 'Manual Labor Institutions,' 'The Clergy the Natural Advisers of Young Men,' 'Personal Piety in Candidates for the Christian Ministry,' 'Wisdom in Clergymen,' 'The Eloquence of the Pulpit as affected by Ministerial Character.' These addresses, somewhat brief, never impassioned, are full of excellent suggestions, both to the laity and the clergy. They abound in practical wisdom, and any one may read them with profit.

"In all his writings his style was unambitious, unaffected, chaste, pure, and transparent as crystal. It was true to his subject and himself. If not fervid and vehement, it was because of his moderation and self-restraint; if not pungent and dogmatic, it was marked by sustained earnestness and finished beauty. If he had not predominantly that power which is called by the older rhetoricians amplification, he eminently had another, as rarely met with in perfection, the power of exact, unincumbered, logical statement. There was sometimes in him a reticence as admirable as it was unique. You wondered why he did not say more, and yet if he had, it would only have injured the effect. The word exactly fitted the sentiment. The idea was insphered in the expression. There was no excess or extravagance in anything he did or said. His thoughts glided softly and sweetly from his pen, as a rivulet from a silver fountain.

"I have sometimes thought that Professor Haddock's intellectual powers were nowhere displayed to more advantage than in the mingled grave and gay, learned and mirthful intercourse of social life. The very tones of his voice, sympathetic and attractive, the absence of dogmatism, or superciliousness, or self-assertion,—the mingled deference and independence, the clear and sustained thought, the ready insight, the quick apprehension of proprieties, the intelligent, dexterous, but never caustic reply, the sure appreciation of the feelings of others, and the power of making them, even the lowliest, feel that what they said was listened to with interest,—the sense of the droll and ludicrous, the responsive laughter, not boisterous, but hearty, bringing tears into the eyes,—all gave a peculiar charm to this form of intercourse. It was a ministry of beneficence, diffusing kindness, intelligence, and gentleness, enlivening many a dull hour, filling many a vacant mind, and inspiring many a worthy purpose.

"'Great openness and candor, good sense, the reading of a scholar, the originality of a man who sometimes thought for himself, aspirations after excellence much higher than those of many others,—all these traits came out in his familiar talks, in which he rather unbent than exerted himself; at the same time he was as gentle and attentive a listener as a man could wish, a truly sociable being, with whom you could talk all day, and then all night, and never feel weary.'[42]

[42] Professor Torrey.

"In 1850, he received from Mr. Fillmore the appointment of Charge d'Affaires at the court of Portugal, and in the spring of 1851 sailed for Lisbon, by way of England. I have the best means of knowing that, while at Lisbon, his intercourse and influence with the Court, and with the representatives of all the great powers, was most acceptable and most salutary. His residence in Portugal was in many ways delightful. The delicious climate, the cultivated and refined society of the diplomatic circle, temporary rest from labor, and change of scene and occupations, were all sources of pleasure. Yet here he was touched by one of his deepest sorrows, for at Lisbon, November, 1851, 'by the side of Philip Doddridge, in the English cemetery,' he buried his youngest son, a beautiful boy of eleven years.

"He returned from Portugal early in 1856, after an absence of nearly four years; and, having previously terminated his connection with the college, spent the remainder of his life at West Lebanon."

Prof. N. S. Folsom says:

"Professor Haddock was the 'orator suavi loquenti ore,' and he was much more than this. Both by precept and example he raised the standard of speaking and writing among the students, and stimulated them to the pursuit of a manly eloquence. There also prevailed a very general conviction of his sincerity and moral earnestness, and of his interest in our successful career in life. The themes he gave led us to discriminate both intellectually and morally, and if he thought the theme worthily treated, a kind note in the margin of the sheet was sure to tell us so. The spirit in which he met the class was that of the closing paragraph in his Phi Beta Kappa Oration of 1825: 'Young men of my country, God has given you a noble theatre, and called you into life at the most interesting of all times. Forget not that you are descendants of men who solemnly dedicated themselves and their posterity through all coming time to the cause of free and enlightened reason—unrestricted divine reason—the portion inscribed on our hearts of the universal law, 'whose seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world.' Occasionally he preached in the Hanover village church, where the students attended. He never had so much as a scrap of any notes before him; and this was his habit also at White River, where he steadily officiated. I need not add that the students always were greatly delighted when they had the privilege to hear him. Every discourse was as complete as though it had been carefully written and committed to memory; but evidently his was no memoriter preaching. One sermon I particularly remember, delivered early in March, 1826, from the words, 'If this counsel or this work be of men it will come to nought, but if it be of God ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found fighting against God.' (Acts v. 38, 39.) No discourse I had ever heard in my whole life before surpassed this in eloquence and weight of sentiment; none even from Dr. Tyler was more magnetic, more persuasive to right action on the part of an already awakened conscience, or put the soul more directly in an attitude in which it would be naturally drawn towards what is true and best. My recollection of the feeling of the students toward him is, that he was, on the whole, not inferior in popularity with them to any other member of the Faculty. There is no man I could name so absolutely faultless, as he seemed to us young men of that period. I am not sure that his prestige and charm were not increased by the faultlessness of his dress, and by the manifestations of the becoming in personal appearance,—a well-known trait of his great kinsman, Daniel Webster, whom he not distantly resembled also in features, port, and step, and in distinct, measured utterance. Not that he in the least consciously imitated him, but there was the natural growth into the likeness of the object of his admiration; and there was, as in Mr. Webster, absolutely no affectation, nor sign of overmuch thought about raiment, nor vestige of anything like conscious, personal display."

A later pupil says:

"As a teacher Professor Haddock was remarkable for his dignity and refinement. His presence among young men was always sufficient to maintain perfect order and decorum. The true gentleman beamed forth from every feature and spoke in every tone of his voice. With apparent ease, he chained the attention of the most thoughtless to the most abstruse and uninviting topics. The deep things of Logic and Psychology he handled so adroitly, and presented so tastefully, as to give them a charm, indeed, a fascination.

"In the recitation room his words were few, but his statements were so clear and so elegantly expressed, that what the student had been able to learn only partially or obscurely from the book was now fully comprehended and securely treasured by the memory. The students were never willingly absent, for it was always a delight to listen to his instructions, and a failure to be present was counted an irreparable loss, inasmuch as the teacher always seemed greater than the text-book.

"It is hardly necessary to say that the influence of such a man was an important factor in the last two years of our college life. His noble bearing, his handsome face, his impressive manner, his uniform kindness and courtesy, and, especially, his manifest appreciation of young men who were struggling against heavy obstacles in their course of study, will never be forgotten by those who were so fortunate as to be under his tuition. Nor can it be doubted that the power of his refined intellect and taste has been felt in many places where his name has never been heard."

Professor Haddock married, first, Susan Saunders, daughter of Richard Lang, of Hanover; second, Mrs. Caroline (Kimball) Young, daughter of Richard Kimball, of Lebanon, N. H. He died at West Lebanon, N. H., January 15, 1861.



William Chamberlain, the successor of Professor Moore in the chair of Languages, was the son of General William and Jane (Eastman) Chamberlain, and was born at Peacham, Vt., May 24, 1797. From a reliable source we have the following account of him:

Perhaps there is on record no more worthy and comprehensive testimony to his character and his work than the few lines which the late President Lord furnished for the inscription on his tombstone. They read:

"William Chamberlain, Jr., A. M., Professor of Languages in Dartmouth College. A man of strong intellect, distinguished literary attainments, and moral worth.

"He added respectability to the institution, by prudence, efficiency, and a well-earned reputation; and contributed largely to promote its interests. By disinterested and unwearied labors, with fidelity in all his relations, beloved and honored, he filled up the measure of a short but useful life, and died with humble confidence in the Divine mercy, through the atonement of Jesus Christ, July 11, 1830, aged 33."

He gave to the college for ten years the unremitting labor of his life, and we may say his life itself. To his abundant and complete work as a teacher he added the labor of overseeing the material affairs of the college,—a labor devolved upon him, perhaps, on account of his superior executive ability.

Thus he superintended the building of Thornton and Wentworth Halls, and employed his vacations, and particularly the long winter vacation, in travelling over what was then the wilderness of northern New Hampshire and Vermont, in care of the wild lands belonging to the college. Stricken with pneumonia on one of these journeys,—he would not wait for a complete convalescence before returning to duty,—his malady assumed the chronic form, and terminated his life in about six months after its first invasion.

The influences of his early life were such as may well have conduced to a broad and strong character.

His mother belonged to a family long identified with the early history of southern New Hampshire.

His father, General William Chamberlain, after serving in the armies of the Revolution, became a pioneer settler of northern Vermont, where he acquired a handsome estate and a prominent public position. He became Lieutenant Governor of the State, and represented it in Congress for several terms. Among his public services may be mentioned his care for the Caledonia County Grammar School, where his sons were fitted for college. This school was at that time taught by Ezra Carter, a man greatly respected for his attainments and dignity of character.

Thus the future professor grew up amid the versatile life of the frontier, surrounded by the contests and traditions of public service.

Distinguished for scholarship in college, a bold but prudent leader among his classmates in their conflicts with the University,[43] immediately after graduation he became the preceptor of Moors Charity School, and a year later entered, as a student of law, the office of Daniel Webster in Boston. Thence, in his twenty-fourth year he was recalled to the college as professor of Languages, and in the ordinary and extraordinary service of the institution he was intensely occupied for the remainder of his short life.

[43] The Rev. Daniel Lancaster, of the Class of 1821, supplies the following recollections of the assault upon the college libraries, made by a band of towns-people, under the guidance of Professors Carter and Dean of the University. They had forced the doors only to find that the books had already been removed, and themselves thus inclosed, the prisoners of the college students, led, among others, by senior Chamberlain. Mr. Lancaster continues: "Having stationed three or four of his classmates at the door of the library to prevent ingress or egress, he ascended a few steps on the flight of steps leading to the next floor, and called the excited throng to order. He then spoke in substance as follows: 'Fellow students, we are in the midst of a desperate emergency. The door of our library has been demolished. The vandals have entered and taken possession, but we have met the enemy. They are our prisoners and the library is safe. I have come from the president, who wishes me to say to you that he is confident you will conduct yourselves as gentlemen—using no violence or insult—in all the arrangements to be adopted, until order and quiet are restored.'

"He then proceeded to marshal them in two files, beginning at the door of the library, and extending down stairs to the lower floor, through which files the University professors were conducted, each under escort of three students, to their homes."

General H. K. Oliver, of Massachusetts, a member of the then Senior class, gives substantially the same account. He adds:

"Having released the roughs on condition of good behavior, we exacted a promise of the learned professors of Mathematics and Dead Languages, 'that they would do so no more.' Classmates Fox, Shirley, and I then escorted Professor Carter home. Dean was escorted by Crosby (Hon. Nathan Crosby) and others. He (Carter) was very polite to us, invited us in, and treated us with wine and cake."

A life so brief and active leaves behind it little but its example. Yet I shall venture to extract a few paragraphs from an address delivered by him on the 4th of July, 1826, the end of the first half century of our national life.

Remembering that they were written at a period before the great problems which have since controlled our history were recognized or appreciated among the people at large, they will be found to indicate a moral tone and a political prescience quite remarkable in a young man of twenty-eight years.

... "I have already alluded to it as the first of the appropriate duties of this day, to turn to Heaven in the exercise of devout gratitude, and render thanksgiving and praise to Him who was the God of our fathers in the day of their trial; who gave to them and has continued to us a fairer portion than was ever allotted to any other people. Is there one in this consecrated temple of the Almighty who would not join in the offering? I know it is unusual to dwell long upon such considerations at a time like this, but surely, if there ever were a call for a nation's gratitude to God, and ever a proper occasion for expressing it, we are the people in whose hearts that emotion should be deep and permanent, and this is a time to give it utterance."...

"We must do all in our power to promote liberal feelings among the several communities and sections of our federal republic, so as to preserve inviolate the Union of the States. Were this Union now in danger, it would call forth a more authoritative voice than mine; yet it may be in danger before the close of another half century. I will only speak my own conviction, that the States cannot be separated without the destruction of the country. They lie together on the bosom of this vast continent, a protection and an ornament, each to the other, and all to each, like the gems on the breast-plate of the Jewish Hierarch, indicative of the union of the Tribes, mutually lending and receiving lustre."...

"We must root out from among ourselves the institution of domestic slavery, or, before the close of another half century, we may have to abide the consequences of a servile war. In effecting this all-important object, we must indeed proceed gradually, temperately, in the observance of all good faith and good feeling toward the people of that portion of our Union on which the curse was entailed by the colonial policy of the mother country.

"It is a work which demands the full concurrence of all the States, and, sooner or later, it must be accomplished. Common sense will not cease to upbraid us with inconsistency, humanity will not be satisfied, nor Heaven fully propitiated, while we hold up boastfully in one hand this declaration, affirming that "all men are created equal," and grasp with the other the manacles and the scourge.

"Whatever may have been inferred by reason from a difference of physical attributes, and whatever may have been forced by criticism out of the word of God, the traffic in human flesh is contraband by the law of Nature written in our hearts, and forbidden by the whole tenor and spirit of the religion revealed in the Gospel.

"Even in the darker and imperfect dispensation of the ancient Jews, every fiftieth year, at least, brought freedom to all the inhabitants of the land. It is almost needless to say, that, if he who first procured the slave and brought him hither had no right to do so, then neither could he who bought him acquire a rightful ownership. There is no property to a private man in the life or the natural faculties of another; no right can accrue by purchase, or vest by possession, and no inheritance on either side descend. A title, which by its very nature was void from the beginning, can never be made good; a dominion which Heaven never gave, must be perpetuated, if at all, by means which it will never sanction."...

Surely, the trumpet of this youth gave no "uncertain sound."

"One blast upon that bugle horn. Were worth ten thousand men."

To the recognition of such qualities it was due, probably, that in 1829 he was called to New York city to assume the editorship of a journal ("Journal of Commerce") founded by an association of gentlemen, and which afterwards exerted great influence upon public opinion. He declined the offer, unwilling to leave his Alma Mater at a critical epoch in her history. He stayed by her to die in her service.

His widow, Mrs. Sarah L. (Gilman) Chamberlain, daughter of Dr. Joseph Gilman, of Wells, Me., and niece of Mrs. President Brown, survived him twenty years, residing at Hanover. The memory of her moral, intellectual, and social worth is warmly cherished by all who knew her.

Mr. Lancaster adds: "Professor Chamberlain was tall, erect, square built, well-proportioned, and of graceful mien and bearing,—such a man as the eye could rest upon with pleasure. His voice was clear, sonorous, yet smooth and agreeable."

Professor Folsom says:

"Professor Chamberlain, the youngest member of the Faculty, who was only twenty-three years old when, in 1820, he entered on his professorship of the Latin and Greek Languages and Literature, and only thirty-three when he died, was much admired and loved and reverenced by many of us. To myself, whenever I think of Dartmouth, his image invariably appears, and he stands out among the objects presenting themselves second only to that of Dr. Tyler, as the latter appeared when at his best and noblest in the pulpit. It was indeed in that same pulpit, and before I came under his instruction, that I first heard him, when he delivered an oration on the Fourth of July in the year 1826. It was to a crowded audience, filling the floor and the galleries. I doubt whether there is one survivor of that number, whether student or townsman, from whose recollection can have faded away the image of the orator, his form and attitude, his voice and action, and some of his thrilling words, especially when he described the nation holding in one hand the Declaration of Independence which proclaims human equality, and with the other grasping the manacles and scourge to torture millions of human beings bought and sold, and compelled to labor in slavery.

Professor Chamberlain took charge of the Class of 1828 in Latin and Greek when they entered on their Junior year. As soon as our class met him in the east recitation-room—he being seated at a small table on his left, and the class in lines of a half-parallelogram extending on the right and in front of him—we felt that we had come under a noble teacher. Some of us who loved the languages that he taught, and also had become acquainted with the best of the upper classes, carried with us none other than very high anticipations of a most profitable and pleasant term of study. And so it proved. How he used to electrify us at times by repeating something that had just been recited, as at the close of the Agricola of Tacitus, his strongly marked face all lighted up, new significance and something like inspiration being given us, when with his deliberate, distinct, emphatic, rhythmical, rich utterance, flowed out that prophetic sentence in the world's literature, 'Quidquid ex Agricola amavimus, quidquid mirati sumus, manet mansurumque in animis hominum, in aeternitate temporum, in fama rerum!'

"I remember that while my class were in the Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles and the Medea of Euripides, I was suffering from weak eyes, and went to the recitation-room with no other preparation than that of hearing each lesson twice read to me by two different students, who did me the kindness to perform that service. But with Professor Chamberlain's luminous explanation and comment, no Greek of my whole college course more deeply interested and helped me.

"He heard the rehearsal of my Commencement oration, and some of his words on that occasion I have not ceased to remember with gratitude. Nor was I the only one who received from him words of encouragement that proved of most valuable service in our subsequent career. Still it was the moral element that constituted his highest power of influencing young men, and was his distinguishing personality. May I say, for one, that in this moral and spiritual personality he has again and again come to me since his departure, and been a present helper toward whatever of good I have attained in life.

"A single anecdote will serve to illustrate the love with which his pupils cherish his memory. I cannot but think that every survivor of my class must have some recollection of the fact, and share all my feelings in regard to it. He had been occasionally late at recitation, and the class, to give him a lesson of promptness, one morning having assembled as usual after service in chapel, and waited some four minutes past the hour, carried the vote to go to our rooms; and so, the professor just turning the corner, and hastening up the slope, and his approach being announced by some on the lookout, we dashed out, through the rear doors, or up the stairways, and not a solitary member of the class remained in the room. The next morning he was already there when we reached the place, made no remark on the occurrence of the previous day, and none of us could discern in him the faintest trace of displeasure. When, two years after we graduated, I heard of his death, I remembered a slight, hacking cough which he had, and that slightly bent, spare, though large and tall frame, and always placid face, and realized for the first time that what we imputed to him as a fault was the hindrance of disease, and possibly of sleepless nights; and I would have given a world for an opportunity to ask his forgiveness."[44]

[44] The writer did not know until a few years ago that he was related, though somewhat distantly, to the wife of Professor Chamberlain. He was personally acquainted with her from his Sophomore year. He then boarded and roomed at Mrs. President Brown's (Mrs. C.'s aunt). Her paternal great-grandfather, Rev. Nicholas Gilman, of Durham, N. H., and the writer's paternal great-grandfather (as well as maternal great-great-grandfather), Dr. Josiah Gilman, of Exeter, N. H., were brothers. He has felt, ever since he knew this fact, like having a clearer right of inheritance in Professor Chamberlain.

Another pupil says of Professor Chamberlain:

"He was well-proportioned, tall, active, and energetic. His expression was dignified and commanding. In his word there was power. Integrity marked all his life. His word was as good as his bond. His principles were firmly grasped and implicitly followed. His intellectual powers were of a high order. He impressed every acquaintance with his intellectual greatness. His discourse was lofty but impressive.

"His religious life was less marked in public. He united with no church, though he was a man of prayer and from his dying bed sent a religious message to the students."

* * * * *

From a reliable source we have the following notice of another of Dartmouth's eminent and honored teachers:

Daniel Oliver, whose name appears on the list of teachers of past years in both the Medical and Academical departments of Dartmouth College, was born on the 9th of September, 1787. He was the third son of the Rev. Thomas Fitch Oliver, at that time rector of St. Michael's, Marblehead, and belonged to a family distinguished in the history of Massachusetts from the earliest period of the colony. He was a direct descendant of Mr. Thomas Oliver, whom Winthrop calls "an experienced and very skilful surgeon," and who acted as one of the ruling elders of the church in Boston soon after his arrival in 1632. Through his mother he was descended from William Pynchon, one of the founders of the Massachusetts Colony, and the Rev. William Hubbard, the historian of New England; and, through his paternal grandmother he was a descendant of the Rev. John Eliot, the noted Indian missionary.

After the death of his father, which took place at Garrison Forest, near Baltimore, before he had attained his tenth year, he was placed in the care of Colonel Lloyd Rogers, of that city, and almost immediately commenced his preparatory course for college, applying himself to his studies with great diligence, and entered. Harvard College in 1802. Although fond of study, and possessed of a mind of unusual vigor and brilliancy, the ambitions of college life do not seem to have dimmed the memories of his forest home in the South, and in his letters, while at Cambridge, he more than once recalls the pleasant hours when living within its shades, in a strain at once suggestive of a refined and poetic nature.

To one of his thoughtful and contemplative mind it is not strange that, suddenly transferred from the quiet of home life to the turmoil of college scenes, he should have found much that was distasteful; and the following extract from a letter to him from the late Mr. Justice Story, at that time betrothed to his eldest sister, and with whom he was on terms of intimacy, would seem to imply no little disquietude on the part of his student friend during the earlier years of his life at Cambridge.

"You can hardly imagine with what delight I recur to the days which I spent at Cambridge. In the delightful seclusion from noisy vulgarity, in the sweet interchange of kind sentiments, and in the mutual competition of classic pursuits, I possessed a unity and tranquillity of purpose far beyond the merits of my later years. My first years there were not marked with this peculiar character. It was in my Junior and Senior years that, from forming a choice of friends, and participating in the higher views of literature, I felt that happiness resulted in the activity of intellect and possession of friendship. That period will in future be yours; and though you may start with surprise at the thought at this moment, that period will be marked out in the calendar of your years as among the dies fortunatos. You and I are not widely distinct in years, and you can therefore readily believe that this attachment is not the moral relation of comparison and experience; no, it was reality which charmed me when present, and reflects a lustre in remembrance. Go on, then, my dear fellow, in the academic course with awakened hope. A high destiny awaits you. The joys of youth shall give spirit to the exertions of manhood, and the pursuits of literature yield a permanent felicity attainable only by the votaries of taste. Sweet are the attainments which accomplish the wishes of friends. Our reliance upon you is founded on a belief that ambition and literature will unite us in as close bonds as sympathy and affinity.

"On a subject so interesting to me as my collegiate course I seldom reflect without melancholy; not a harsh and dark brooding, but a soft and tender pensiveness which

"'Sheds o'er the soul a sympathetic gloom.'

"The thousand associations of festivity, pleasantry, study, and recreation live to hallow the whole. The picture, by its distance, loses its defects, and retains only the strong colorings of primitive impression. Never do I cast my eyes on that dear seat of letters but I exclaim involuntarily with Gray:

"'Ah! happy fields, ah! pleasing shade, Ah! groves beloved in vain, Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain; I feel the gales that round ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.'

"By the way, when you are at leisure and feel a little dull, I advise you to take up some of our good-natured writers, such as Dr. Moore, Goldsmith, Coleman, Cervantes, Don Quixote, Smollett's novels, or the pleasant and airy productions of the muse. These I have always found a powerful anti-splenetic; and, although I am not a professed physician, I will venture to prescribe to you in this instance with all the confidence of Hippocrates. The whole system of nostrums from that arch-quack, the old serpent, down to the far-famed Stoughton of our own day, does not present so powerful a remedy, amid all its antis, as cheerful reading to a heavy spirit. I will venture to say, in the spirit of Montesquieu, that an hour of such reading will place one quietly in his elbow chair in all the tranquillity of a Platonic lover."

It is probable that Mr. Story's influence was not without its effect in reconciling his young friend to college life, for he was very soon to be found among the foremost in the race for honorable distinction. He was graduated with distinguished honor, in 1806, in a class of remarkable ability, among whom were the late Hon. Alexander Everett, Judge William P. Preble, Professor J. G. Cogswell, and the venerable Dr. Jacob Bigelow, its last surviving member.

After leaving college he began the study of law under the direction of Mr. Story, but very soon abandoned it, and entered the office of his uncle, the late Dr. B. Lynde Oliver, of Salem, as a student of medicine. In 1809, he entered the University of Pennsylvania, at that time distinguished by the names of Rush, Wistar, and Physick, and by his talents and attainments soon attracted the notice of Dr. Rush, whose favorite pupil and warm friend he afterwards became. On receiving his medical degree, the following letter, written in terms of the highest compliment, was addressed by Dr. Rush to his uncle and former instructor.

"Philadelphia, May 1, 1810.

"Dear Sir: I sit down with great pleasure to answer your letter by your nephew, now Dr. Oliver, and to inform you at the same time that he has received the honor of a doctor's degree in our university much to his credit and the satisfaction of his teachers. From his singular talents, and from his acquirements and manners, he cannot fail of becoming eminent in his profession. Long, very long, may he live to reflect honor upon all who are related to him, or who have been instrumental in opening and directing his acute and capacious mind in the prosecution of his studies! Be assured he carries with him my highest respect and sincere affection.

"With respectful compliments to the venerable patriarch of medicine, Dr. Holyoke (if not translated to a better world),

"I am, dear sir, very sincerely yours, "Benjamin Rush. "Dr. B. Lynde Oliver."

On his return to Salem, Dr. Oliver commenced the practice of medicine, and in July, 1811, as appears from his diary, he connected himself with Dr. R. D. Mussey, then a rising young surgeon, and with whom he was afterwards so long associated. From the following entry in the diary referred to, under date of July 12, 1812, may be learned somewhat of his tastes at this time, and his mode of passing the waiting hours of an early professional life:

"This day completed the first year of my connection in the medical profession with Dr. R. D. Massey. On reviewing this period, I am sensible of a great loss of time, and of a degree of professional and literary improvement altogether inadequate to such an extent of time. Some improvement, however, has I hope, been made. With respect to the books which I have read during the past year, the most important are Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical History,' which I have not yet quite completed,—a learned and judicious outline of the history of the church, embracing many collateral topics of learning and philosophy ...; Homer's 'Iliad' in Greek, with the exception of the last book; the 'Aeneid' except the last two; two or three books of Livy, and several of Juvenal's 'Satires.'

"The most important literary enterprise which I have undertaken and accomplished has been the delivery of a course of lectures on Chemistry in connection with Dr. Mussey. In Anatomy, also, we have executed something. Medicine will, in future, claim more of my attention, but not to the neglect of the two important collateral branches above mentioned."

In the autumn of 1815, Dr. Oliver was appointed to deliver a course of chemical lectures before the medical class at Dartmouth College. Although he had thus far pursued the study of chemistry as a collateral branch of medical science, he felt warranted in accepting the appointment, without, however, proposing to himself a more permanent position in this department.

In 1817, he was married to Miss Mary Robinson Pulling, the only daughter of Edward Pulling, Esq., an eminent barrister of Salem, and almost immediately went again to Philadelphia to avail himself of the advantages of that seat of medical learning, returning to Salem in the spring of 1818.

In the following year he was induced to undertake, in connection with the Hon. John Pickering, the preparation of a Greek lexicon, a work involving much labor and research, and the larger portion of which fell to his lot. Although mainly based on the Latin of Schrevelius, many of the interpretations were new, and there were added more than two thousand new articles. The magnitude of the task and its successful accomplishment at once raised him to a conspicuous rank among the scholars of his day.

In the summer of 1820 he accepted an appointment to the professorship of the Theory and Practice of Medicine, and of Materia Medica and Therapeutics in Dartmouth College, where he delivered his first course of lectures in the following autumn. He was also made Professor of Botany, and his lectures upon Physiology were among his most valuable contributions to medical literature. He took up his permanent residence in Hanover, in August, 1821, and from this time to the close of his connection with the college he was most faithful to all its interests. In 1825 he was appointed to the chair of Intellectual Philosophy in the Academical department of the college, a position which he filled with the ability that distinguished him elsewhere. The address delivered by him on the occasion of his induction into this professorship, upon the "Comparative Importance of the Study of Mental Science," was thus far, perhaps, his most successful literary effort. Clear, comprehensive, and abounding in passages of remarkable beauty and force, it established the reputation of its author both as a writer and a metaphysician.

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