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Mr. Ticknor subsequently published Life of William Hickling Prescott, Bost., 1864, 4to, 8vo, and 12mo, Lond., 1864, 8vo, and contributed notices of Prescott and Edward Everett to Proceedings Massachusetts Historical Society, 1859, 8vo, 1865, 8vo. In early life he wrote papers for The Monthly Anthology and The American Quarterly Review; nor would it become me to omit grateful acknowledgment of his contributions to the articles BYRON, SIR WALTER SCOTT, and RASPE (Munchausen), in Allibone's Critical Dictionary of English Literature. See Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor [partially edited by G. S. Hillard], Bost., 1876, 2 vols. 8vo.


From day to day, after New Year of 1859, he seemed more to miss his old occupations. On the 27th of January, he talked decidedly of beginning again in good earnest on the "History of Philip the Second," and speculated on the question whether, if he should find his physical strength unequal to the needful exertion, he might venture to reinforce it by a freer diet. On the following morning the fatal day-he talked of it again, as if his mind were made up to the experiment, and as if he were looking to his task as to the opening again of an old and sure mine of content. His sister, Mrs. Dexter, was happily in town making him a visit, and was sitting that forenoon with Mrs. Prescott in a dressing-room, not far from the study where his regular work was always done. He himself, in the early part of the day, was unoccupied, walking about his room for a little exercise; the weather being so bad that none ventured out who could well avoid it. Mr. Kirk, his everfaithful secretary, was looking over Sala's lively book about Russia, “A Journey due North," for his own amusement merely, but occasionally reading aloud to Mr. Prescott such portions as he thought peculiarly interesting or pleasant. On one passage, which referred to a former Minister of Russia at Washington, he paused, because neither could recollect the name of the person alluded to; and Mr. Prescott, who did not like to

find his memory at fault, went to his wife and sister to see if either of them could recall it for him. After a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Prescott hit upon it; a circumstance which amused him not a little, as she so rarely took an interest in anything connected with public affairs, that he had rather counted upon Mrs. Dexter for the information. He snapped his fingers at her, therefore, as he turned away, and, with the merry laugh so characteristic of his nature, passed out of the room, saying, as he went, "How came you to remember?" They were the last words she ever heard from his loved lips.

After reaching his study, he stepped into Kirk heard him groan, and, hurrying to an adjoining apartment. While there, Mr. him, found him struck with apoplexy and wholly unconscious. This was about halfpast eleven o'clock in the forenoon. He was instantly carried to his chamber. In the shortest possible space of time several medical attendants were at his bedside, and among them--and the chief of them-was his old friend and his father's friend, Dr. Jackson. One of their number, Dr. Minot, brought me the sad intelligence, adding his own auguries, which were of the worst. I hastened to the house. What grief and dismay I found there need not be told. saw that the inevitable hour was come. Remedies availed nothing. He never spoke again, never recovered an instant of consciousness, and at half-past two o'clock life passed away without suffering.


He would himself have preferred such a death, if choice had been permitted to him. He had often said so to me and to others ; and none will gainsay, that it was a great happiness thus to die, surrounded by all those nearest and dearest to him, except one much-loved son, who was at a distance, and to die, too, with unimpaired faculties, and with affections not only as fresh and true as they had ever been, but which, in his own home and in the innermost circle of his friends, had seemed to grow stronger and more tender to the last.

Four days afterwards he was buried; two wishes, however, having first been fulfilled, as he had earnestly desired that they should be. They related wholly to himself, and were as simple and unpretending as he


From accidental circumstances, he had always entertained a peculiar dread of being buried alive; and he had, therefore, often required that measures should be taken to prevent all possibility of the horrors that might follow such an occurrence. His injunctions were obeyed. Of his absolute death it was not, indeed, permitted to doubt. It had occurred under circumstances which

had been distinctly foreseen, and by a blow only too obvious, sure, and terrible. But still, as had been promised him, a principal vein was severed, so that, if life should again be wakened, it might ebb silently away without any possible return of consciousness.

His other request was no less natural and characteristic. He desired that his remains, before they should be deposited in the house appointed for all living, might rest, for a time, in the cherished room where were gathered the intellectual treasures amidst which he had found so much of the happiness of his life. And this wish, too, was fulfilled. Silently, noiselessly, he was carried there. Few witnessed the solemn scene, but on those who did, it made an impression not to be forgotten. There he lay, in that rich, fair room,-his manly form neither shrunk nor wasted by disease; the features that had expressed and inspired so much love still hardly touched by the effacing fingers of death,-there he lay, in unmoved, inaccessible peace; and the lettered dead of all ages and climes and countries collected there seemed to look down upon him in their earthly immortality, and claim that his name should hereafter be imperishably associated with theirs.

But this was only for a season. At the appointed hour-his family and none else following-he was borne to the church where he was wont to worship. No ceremonies had been arranged for the occasion. There had been no invitations. There was no show. But the church was full, was crowded. The Representatives of the Commonwealth, then in session, had adjourned so as to be present; the members of the Historical Society, whose honoured wish to take official charge of the duties of the occasion had been declined, were there as mourners. The whole community was moved; the poor whom he had befriended; the men of letters with whom he had been associated or whom he had aided; the elevated by place or by fortune, whose distinctions and happiness he had increased by sharing them they were all there. It was a sorrowful gathering, such as was never before witnessed in this land for the obsequies of any man of letters wholly unconnected, as he had been, with public affairs and the parties or passions of the time;-one who was known to the most of the crowd collected around his bier only by the silent teachings of his printed works. For, of the multitude assembled, few could have known him personally; many of them had never seen him. But all came to mourn. All felt that an honour had been taken from the community and the country. They came because they

felt the loss they had sustained, and only for that.

And after the simple and solemn religious rites befitting the occasion had been performed [by Mr. Prescott's clergyman, the Rev. Rufus Ellis, pastor of the First Congregational Church in Boston.-Foot-note], they still crowded round the funeral train and through the streets, following, with sadness and awe, the hearse that was bearing from their sight all that remained of one who had been watched not a week before as he trod the same streets in apparent happiness and health. It was a grand and touching tribute to intellectual eminence and personal worth.

He was buried with his father and mother, and with the little daughter he had so tenderly loved, in the family tomb under St. Paul's Church; and, as he was laid down beside them, the audible sobs of the friends who filled that gloomy crypt bore witness to their love for his generous and sweet nature, even more than to their admiration for his literary distinctions, or to their sense of the honour he had conferred on his country. Life of William Hickling Prescott, 1864, 4to, 442-446.


a son of Matthew Carey, and born in Philadelphia 1793, succeeded his father in the publishing business in 1817, and continued in it until 1838. He has acquired great reputation as a writer on political economy, and still (1878), at an advanced age, takes a lively interest in "the growth of human power.'

Essay on the Rate of Human Wages, Phila., 1835, 12mo; Principles of Political Economy, Phila., 1837-40, 3 vols. 8vo (published in Italian at Turin and in Swedish at Upsal); The Credit System in France, Great Britain, and the United States, Phila., 1838, 8vo; The Past, the Present, and the Future, Phila., 1848, 8vo (in Swedish, at Stockholm); The Prospect, etc., at the Opening of 1851, 8vo; The Harmony of Interests, Agricultural, Manufacturing, and Commercial, New York, 1852, 8vo, 1856, 8vo: Letters on International Copyright, Phila., 1853, 8vo; The Slave Trade, Domestic and Foreign, Phila., 1853, 12mo, 1862, 12mo; Money: a Lecture, New York, 1857, 8vo, Phila., 1860, 8vo; Letters to the President, on the Foreign and Domestic Policy of the Union, etc., Phila., 1858, 8vo (published in Russian); Principles of Social Science, Phila., 1858-59, 3 vols. 8vo (published in German); The French and American Tariffs Compared, Phila., 1861, 8vo; Financial

Crises: Their Causes and Effects, Phila., 1863, 8vo; The Unity of Law; as Exhibited in the Relations of Physical, Social, Mental, and Moral Science, Phila., 1872, 8vo. Also pamphlets and papers in periodicals.

"Mr. Carey, not only in his own country, but throughout Europe, where his writings have been extensively studied, both in their original language and in translations, is the acknowledged founder and head of a new school of Political Economy. We can only indicate the fundamental difference between his system and that in undisputed supremacy when he began his contributions to social science. This, however, will suffice to show how eminently hopeful, progressive, and democratic are the doctrines which he proclaimed, and with what fulness of significance those who have accepted them are styled the American School."-E. PESHINE SMITH: Allibone's Dictionary of Eng. Lit., i. 339, q. v.

Those who desire a convenient compendium of some of the most important of Dr. Carey's views are referred to Manual of Social Science, being a Condensation of the Principles of Social Science" of II. C. Carey, LL.D., by Kate McKean, Phila., 1867, 12mo. Dr. Carey died Oct. 12, 1879.

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1. The first man, when he had day after day, even for a single week, witnessed the rising and setting of the sun, and had seen that the former had invariably been accompanied by the presence of light, while the fatter had as invariably been followed by its absence, had acquired the first rude elements of positive knowledge, or science. The cause -the sun's rising-being given, it would have been beyond his power to conceive that the effect should not follow. With further observation he learned to remark that at certain seasons of the year the luminary appeared to traverse particular portions of the heavens, and that then it was always warm, and the trees put forth leaves to be followed by fruit; whereas, at others, it appeared to occupy other portions of the heavens, and then the fruit disappeared and the leaves fell, as a prelude to the winter's cold. Here was a further addition to his stock of knowledge, and with it came foresight, and a feeling for the necessity for action. If he would live during the season of cold, he could do so only by preparing for it during the season of heat, a principle as thoroughly understood by the wandering Esquimaux of the shores of the Arctic Ocean, as by the most enlightened and eminent philosopher of Europe or America.

Earliest among the ideas of such a man would be those of space, quantity, and form. The sun was obviously very remote, while of the trees some were distant and others were close at hand. The moon was single,

while the stars were countless. The tree was tall, while the shrub was short. The hills were high, and tending towards a point, while the plains were low and flat. We have here the most abstract, simple, and obvious of all conceptions. The idea of space is the same, whether we regard the distance between the sun and the stars by which he is surrounded, or that between the mountains and ourselves. So, too, with number and form, which apply as readily to the sands of the sea-shore as to the gigantic trees of the forest, or to the various bodies seen to be moving through the heavens.

Next in order would come the desire, or the necessity, for comparing distances, numbers, and magnitude, and the means for this would be at hand in machinery supplied by nature, and always at his command. His finger, or his arm, would supply a measure of magnitude, while his pace would do the same by distance, and the standard with which he would compare the weights would be found in some one among the most ordinary commodities by which he was surrounded. In numerous cases, however, distances, velocities, or dimensions, are found to be beyond the reach of direct measurement, and thus is produced a necessity for devising means of comparing distant and unknown quantities with those that being near can be ascertained, and hence arises mathematics, or The Science,—so denominated by the Greeks, because to its help was due nearly all the positive knowledge of which they were possessed.

The multiplication table enables the ploughman to determine the number of days contained in a given number of weeks, and the merchant to calculate the number of pounds contained in his cargo of cotton. By help of his rule, the carpenter determines the distance between the two ends of the plank on which he works. The soundingline enables the sailor to ascertain the depth of water around his ship, and by help of the barometer the traveller determines the height of the mountain on which he stands. All these are instruments for facilitating the acquisition of knowledge, and such, too, are the formulæ of mathematics, by help of which the philosopher is enabled to determine the magnitude and weight of bodies distant from him millions of millions of miles, and is thus enabled to solve innumerable questions of the highest interest to man. They are the key of science, but are not to be confounded with science itself, although often included in the list of sciences, and even so recently as in M. Comte's well-known work. That such should ever have been the case has been due to the fact that so much of what is really physics is

discussed under the head of mathematics; as is the case with the great laws for whose discovery we are indebted to Kelper, Galileo, and Newton. That a body impelled by a single force will move in a right line and with a velocity that is invariable, and that action and reaction are equal and opposite, are facts, at the knowledge of which we have arrived in consequence of pursuing a certain mode of investigation; but when obtained, they are purely physical facts, obtained by help of the instrument to which we apply the term mathematics, and which is, to use the words of M. Comte, simply 66 an immense extension of natural logic to a certain order of deductions."-Positive Philosophy, Martineau's Translation, vol. i., 33. Logic is itself, however, but another of the instruments devised by man for enabling him to obtain a knowledge of nature's laws. To his eyes the earth appears to be a plane, and yet he sees the sun rising daily in the east and setting as regularly in the west, from which he might infer that it would always continue so to do, but of this he can feel no certainty until he has satisfied himself why it is that it does so. At one time he sees the sun to be eclipsed, while at another the moon ceases to give light, and he desires to know why such things are,what is the law governing the movements of those bodies; having obtained which he is enabled to predict when they will again cease to give light, and to determine when they must have done so in times that are past. At one moment ice or salt melts; at another gas explodes; and at a third, walls are shattered and cities are hurled to the ground; and he seeks to know why these things are, what is the relation of cause and effect? In the effort to obtain answers to all these questions, he observes and records facts, and these he arranges with a view to deduce from them the laws by virtue of which they occur,-and he invents barometers, thermometers, and other instruments to aid him in his observation, but the ultimate object of all is that of obtaining an answer to the questions: Why are all these things? Why is it that dew falls on one day and not on another? Why is it that corn grows abundantly in this field and fails altogether in that one? Why is it that coal burns and granite will not? What, in a word, are the laws instituted by the Creator for the government of matter? The answers to these questions constitute science, -and mathematics, logic, and all other of the machinery in use are but instruments used by him for the purpose of obtaining


Principles of Social Science, Chap. i.: Of Science and its Methods.

EDWARD EVERETT, D.C.L., an eminent orator and scholar, born at Dorchester, Massachusetts, 1794; graduated at Harvard University, 1811, and Tutor of Latin there, 1812; ordained a Unitarian minister, 1814, elected Professor of the Greek Language and Literature in Harvard University whilst absent in Europe, in 1815, and on his return, in 1819, entered upon his duties, which terminated in 1825; editor of the N. Amer. Review (to which he contributed in all one hundred and seventeen papers), Jan. 1820 to Oct. 1823; M. C., 1825-35; Governor of Massachusetts, 1836-40; Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James, 1841-44; President of Harvard University, 1846-49; Secretary of State of the United States, Nov. 1852-March, 1853; United States Senator, 1853-55; candidate for the Vice-Presidency of the United States, 1860; died at Boston, Jan. 15, 1865. He collected, by means of orations, writings, etc., nearly one hundred Vernon, that the American people might thousand dollars for the purchase of Mount have the home of Washington for a perpetual possession. See A Memorial of Edward Everett from the City of Boston, 1865, roy. 8vo, pp. 315.

A Defence of Christianity against the Work of George B. English, Bost., 1814, 12mo; Orations and Speeches on Various Occasions, 1825-36, Boston, 1836, 8vo; Importance of Practical Education: A Selection from his Orations and other Discourses [1836, 8vo, supra], New York, 1847, 12mo; Orations and Speeches on Various Occasions from 1826 to 1850, 2d edit., Bost., 1850, 2 vols. 8vo [includes all that were in the edit. of 1836, 8vo], 3d edit., 1853, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. iii. (with Index to vols. i., ii., iii., by S. Austin Allibone), 1859, 8vo, vol. iv., 1868, 8vo; edited The Works of Daniel Webster, 1851, 6 vols. 8vo, large paper, r. 8vo. Also with a Prefatory Memoir and Notes, Bost., many single Speeches and Orations, collected Bost., 1834, 16mo (Sparks's Amer. Biog., 1st as above; The Life of General John Stark, Series); Tribute to the Memory of Washington Irving, New York, 1860, 12mo; Mount Vernon Papers, New York, 1861, 12mo; Life of Washington, New York, 1860, 12mo.

"It is true that he has composed no independent historical work, nor ever published any volume of biography more considerable than the excellent memoir of Washington, which he prepared at the suggestion of his friend Lord Macaulay, for the new [8th] edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica [also published separately, New York, 1860, 12mo]. But there is no great epoch-there is hardly a history, which he has not carefully depicted and single event of our national or of our colonial

brilliantly illustrated in his occasional discourses. I have sometimes thought that no more attractive or more instructive history of our country could

be presented to the youth of our land, than is found in the series of anniversary orations which he has delivered during the last forty years. . . . I know not in what other volume the young men, or even the old men, of our land, could find the history of the glorious past more accurately or more admirably portrayed. I know not where they could find the toils and struggles of our colonial or revolutionary fathors set forth with greater fulness of detail or greater felicity of illustration. As one reads these orations and discourses at this moment, they might almost be regarded as successive chapters of a continuous and comprehensive work which had been composed and recited on our great national anniversaries, just as the chapters of Herodotus are said to have been recited at the Olympic festivals of ancient Greece."-ROBERT C. WINTHROP, LL.D.: Proceed, of Massachusetts Historical Society, Jan. 30, 1865, and in A Memorial of Edward Everett from the City of Boston, 1865, p. 131. See also Memoirs of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, 1865, relative to Edward Everett, by S. Austin Allibone.

Much disappointment was felt that Mr. Everett failed to give to the world a great work "upon some broad question, with which the interests of humanity are sufficiently connected to insure the preservation of the fame and usefulness of the author, with the vitality of the subject." It is proper that Mr. Everett's own explanations upon this subject should be placed upon record:

"It has certainly been my hope and desire to produce some continuous elaborate work, not unworthy to take a place in the permanent literature of the country. Whether this hope is to be realized will depend on the state of my health, which was deplorably shattered last year, but is now somewhat improved.

tions which may exist relative to the matter in question, that the true reason should be known."

Letters to S. Austin Allibone, 11th Sept., 1855, and 19th Dec., 1855.



This, then, is the theatre on which the intellect of America is to appear, and such the motives to its exertion; such the mass to be influenced by its energies; such the glory to crown its success. If I err in this happy vision of my country's fortunes, I thank Heaven for an error so animating. If this be false, may I never know the truth. may you, my friends, be under any other feeling, than that a great, a growing, an immeasurably expanding country is calling upon you for your best services. The name and character of our Alma Mater have already been carried by some of our breth ren hundreds of miles from her venerable walls; and thousands of miles still farther westward, the communities of kindred men are fast gathering, whose minds and hearts will act in sympathy with yours.

The most powerful motives call on us, as scholars, for those efforts which our common country demands of all her children. Most of us are of that class who owe whatever of knowledge has shone into our minds to the free and popular institutions of our native land. There are few of us who may not be permitted to boast that we have been reared in an honest poverty, or a frugal competence, and owe every thing to those means of education which are equally open to all. Should I die with this hope unfulfilled, I We are summoned to new energy and zeal, hope those who may take a kind interest in by the high nature of the experiment we are my memory, will see the traces of willing appointed in providence to make, and the and conscientious effort in my occasional grandeur of the theatre on which it is to be public addresses (some of which embody the performed. At a moment of deep and genresults of no little research), in my contri-eral agitation in the Old World, it pleased butions to the N. A. Review, and in my various official speeches, despatches, and reports; the aggregate of which, if it proves nothing else, will prove that I have not led an idle life. . . . Whether I am able to execute the project, long meditated, and to some extent prepared for, of a work on the Law of Nations, will depend, not so much on the difficulty to which you allude of satisfying an ideal standard, as on the state of my health and other circumstances which pow-gance, that the departed wise and good, of erfully influence the capacity for vigorous mental effort. I have for some years been so situated as to require nearly all the fortitude and energy I can command to go through the routine of daily domestic life. I mention this with reluctance; but it is of importance to my good name hereafter, should I fall below the reasonable expecta

Heaven to open this last refuge of humanity. The attempt has begun, and is going on, far from foreign corruption, on the broadest scale, and under the most benignant prospects; and it certainly rests with us to solve the great problem in human society; to settle, and that forever, the momentous question,

whether mankind can be trusted with a purely popular system of government.

One might almost think, without extrava

all places and times, are looking down from their happy seats to witness what shall now be done by us; that they who lavished their treasures and their blood, of old, who spake and wrote, who labored, fought, and perished, in the one great cause of Freedom and Truth, are now hanging from their orbs on high, over the last solemn experiment of humanity.

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