Thoughts on Educational Topics and Institutions

by George S. Boutwell

With endless and uneasy motion,

Now touching the very skies,

Now sinking into the depths of ocean."

And, as there must be in every society of men something of evil that can be traced to the government, and something of good neglected that a wise and efficient government might have accomplished, it is easy to build up an argument against an existing government, however good when compared with others. This is a narrow, superficial, unsatisfactory, dangerous view to take of public affairs.

We should seek to comprehend the relations of the government, the principles on which it is founded; and, while we justly complain of its defects, and seek to remedy them, we ought also to compare it with other systems that exist, or that might be established. This proposition involves an intelligent realization by the people of the character of their institutions; and I am thus led to express the apprehension that the popular political education of our day is inferior to that of the revolutionary era, and of the age that immediately succeeded it.

There is, no doubt, a disposition and a tendency to extol the recent past. The recollections of childhood are quite at variance with the real truth, and tradition is often the dream of old age concerning the events of early life. As rivers, hills, mountains, roads, and towns, are all magnified by the visions of childhood, it is not strange that men should be also. Hence comes, in part, the popular belief in the superior physical strength and greater longevity of the people who lived fifty or a hundred years ago. Each generation is familiar with its predecessor; but of the one next remote it knows only the marked characters. Those who possessed great physical excellences remain; but they are not so much the representatives of their generation as its exceptions. The weak, the diseased, have fallen by the way; and, as there is an intimate connection between physical and intellectual power, the remnant of any generation, whatever its common character, will retain a disproportionate number of strong-minded men. Hence it is not safe to judge a generation as a whole by those who remain at the age of sixty or seventy years; especially if we reflect that public opinion and tradition are most likely to preserve the names and qualities of those who were distinguished for physical or mental power. Yet, after making due allowance for these exaggerations, I cannot escape the conclusion that we have, as a people, deteriorated in average sound political learning; and I proceed to mention some of the causes and evidences of our degeneracy, and of the superiority of our ancestors.

I. The political condition of the country has been essentially changed.—General personal and family comfort, according to the ideas now entertained, was not a feature of American society for one hundred and seventy years from the settlement at Plymouth. Life was a continual contest—a contest with the forest, with the climate, with the Indians, and especially was it a continual contest with the mother country. The colonists sought to maintain their own rights without infringement, while they accorded to the sovereign his constitutional privileges. Conflicts were frequent, and apprehensions of conflict yet more frequent. Hence those who had the conduct of public affairs were compelled to give some attention to English history, and to the constitutional law of Great Britain. Moreover, it was always important to secure and keep a strong public sentiment on the side of liberty; and there were usually in every town men who thoroughly investigated questions of public policy. There was one topic, more absorbing than any other, that involved the study of the legal history and usage of Great Britain, and a careful consideration of the general principles of liberty; namely, the constitutional rights of a British subject. Here was a broad field for inquiry, investigation, and study; and it was faithfully cultivated and gleaned. There has never been a political topic for public discussion in America more important in itself, or better calculated to educate an American in a knowledge of his political rights, than the examination of the political relations of the subject to the crown and parliament of Great Britain previous to the Declaration of Independence. It was not an abstraction. It had a practical value to every man in the colonies, and it was the prominent feature of the masterly exposition made by the Massachusetts House of Representatives, to which I have already referred. And we can better estimate the political education which the times furnished, when we consider that the revolutionary war was made logical and necessary through a knowledge of positions, facts, and arguments, scattered over the history of the colonies. But, when our Independence had been established and recognized, constitutions had been framed, and the governments of the states and nation set in motion, the beauty and harmony of our political system seemed to render continued attention to political principles and the rights of individual men unnecessary. Hence, we may anticipate the judgment of impartial history in the admission that public attention was gradually given to contests for office which did not always involve the maintenance of a fundamental principle of government, or the recognition of an essential human right. It does not, however, follow, from this admission, that we are indifferent to our political lot,—occasional contests upon principle refute such a conjecture,—but that men are not anxious concerning those things which appear to be secure. And the differences of political parties of the last fifty years have not been so much concerning the nature of human rights, as in regard to the institutions by which those rights can be best protected. Therefore our political questions have been questions of expediency rather than of principle. And, if there is any foundation for the popular impression that public offices are conferred on men less eminently qualified to give dignity to public employments, the reason of this degeneracy—less noteworthy than it is usually represented—is to be found in this connection.

Governments and political organizations accept the common law of society. When an individual or a corporation is prosperous, places of trust and emolument are often gained and occupied by unworthy men; but, when profits are diminished, or when they disappear entirely; when dividends are passed, when loss and bankruptcy are imminent, then, if hope and courage still remain, places of importance are filled by the appointment of abler and worthier men. The charge made against official character, to whatever extent true, is better evidence of confidence and prosperity than it is of the degeneracy of the people; and a public exigency, serious and long-continued, would call to posts of responsibility the highest talent and integrity which the country could produce. But it is, nevertheless, to be admitted as a necessary consequence of the facts already stated, and the views presented, that the average amount of sound political learning among those engaged in public employments is less than it was during the revolutionary era. It is, however, also to be observed, that, when such learning seems to be specially required, the people demand it and secure it. Hence the work of framing constitutions, even in the new states, has, in its execution, commanded the approval of political writers in this country and in Europe. And it must, also, be admitted that peace and prosperity render sound political learning and great experience less necessary, and at the same time multiply the number of men who are considered eligible to office. Candidates are put in nomination and elected because they have been good neighbors, honorable citizens, competent teachers of youth, or faithful spiritual guides; or, possibly, because they have been successful in business, are of the military or of the fire department, or because they are leaders and benefactors of special classes of society. In ordinary times these facts are all worthy of consideration and real deference; but when, as in the Revolution, every place of public service is a post of responsibility, or sacrifice, or danger, candidates and electors will not meet upon these grounds, but, disregarding such circumstances, the canvass will have special reference to the work to be done. For civil employments, political learning and experience are required; and for military posts, skill, sagacity, and courage. It may be said that our whole colonial life was a preparatory school for the revolutionary contest; and, therefore, the major part of the enterprise, ambition, and patriotism, of the country, was given to the training, studies, and pursuits, calculated to fit men for so stern a struggle. But now that other avenues are inviting in themselves, and promise political preferment, we are liable to the criticism that our young men, well educated in the schools and in a knowledge of the world, are not well grounded in political history and constitutional law, without which there can be no thorough and comprehensive statesmanship. And, as I pass from this branch of my subject, I may properly say that I do not seek to limit the number of candidates for public office; for every office is a school, and the public itself is a great and wise teacher. Nor do I ask any to abandon the employments and duties, or to neglect the claims of business and of social life; but I seek to impress upon our youth a sense of the importance of adding something thereto. The knowledge of which I have spoken is valuable in the ordinary course of public business, and absolutely essential in the exigences of political and national life. And it is with an eye single to the happiness of individuals, and the welfare of the public, that I invite my fellow-citizens, and especially the young men of the state, to take something from the hours of labor, where labor is excessive; or something from amusement, where amusement has ceased to be recreation; or something from light reading, which often is neither true, nor reasonable, nor useful; or something from indolence and dissipation; and, in the minutes and hours thus gained, treasure up valuable knowledge for the circumstances and exigences of citizenship and public office.

II. The claims of business and society are unfavorable to political learning.—I assume it to be true of Massachusetts that the proportion of freehold farmers to the whole population is gradually diminishing, and that the amount of labor performed by each is gradually increasing. From the settlement of the country to the commencement of the present century, there was a great deal of privation, hardship, and positive suffering; but the claim for continuous labor was not exacting.

The necessary articles of food and clothing were chiefly supplied from the land, and the majority did not contemplate any great accumulation of worldly goods, but sought rather to place their political and religious privileges upon a sure foundation. Agriculture was in a rude state, and consequently did not furnish steady employment to those engaged in it. It is only when there are valuable markets, scientific, or at least careful cultivation, and large profits, that the farmer can use his evenings and long winters in his profession. These circumstances did not exist until the present century; and we have thus in this discussion found both the motive and the opportunity for political learning among our ancestors.