sound of his voice who now addresses you.

Channing and Story in the pleasant, grassy bed of Mount Auburn, in the shadow of beautiful trees, whose falling autumnal leaves are the fit emblem of the generations of men.

It was the custom in ancient Rome, on solemn occasions, to bring forward the images of departed friends, arrayed in their robes of office, and carefully adorned, while some one recounted what they had done, in the hope of refreshing the memory of their deeds, and of inspiring the living with new impulses to virtue. "For who," says the ancient historian, " can behold without emotion the forms of so many illustrious men, thus living as it were and breathing together in his presence? or what spectacle can be conceived more great and striking ? "* The images of our departed brothers are present here to-day, not in sculptured marble, but graven on our hearts. We behold them again, as in life. They seem to mingle in our festival, and to cheer us by their example. It were well to catch the opportunity of observing together the lincaments of their truthful, simple characters, and of dwelling anew, with the warmth of living affection, upon the virtues by which they are commended to our souls. But while we thus devote the hour to their memory, let us especially seek to comprehend and reverence the great interests which they lived to promote. Pickering, Story, Allston, Channing! Their names alone, without addition, awaken a response, which, like the far-famed echo of the woods of Dodona, will prolong itself through the livelong day. But great as they are, we feel their insignificance by

* Hampton's Polybius, Book VI.

the side of the causes to which their days were consecrated, Knowledge, Justice, Beauty, Love, the com

prehensive attributes of God.

Illustrious on earth, they ministers of lofty and

were the lowly and mortal immortal truth. It is, then, THE Scholar, the Jurist, THE ARTIST, THE PHILANTHROPIST, whom we celebrate to-day, and whose pursuits will be the theme of my discourse.

And here, on this threshold, let me say, what is implied in the very statement of my subject, that, in offering these tributes, I seek no occasion for personal eulogy, or biographical details. My aim is to commemorate the men, but more to advance the objects which they so successfully served. Reversing the order in which our brothers left us, I shall take the last first.

not

JOHN PICKERING, THE SCHOLAR, died in the month of May, 1846, aged sixty-nine, within a short period of that extreme goal which is the allotted limit of human life. By scholar, I mean a cultivator of liberal studies, a student of knowledge in its largest sense, merely classical, not excluding what is exclusively called science in our days, but which was unknown when the title of scholar was first established; for though Cicero dealt a sarcasm at Archimedes, he spoke with higher truth when he beautifully recognized the common bond between all departments of knowledge. The brother whom we now mourn was a scholar, a student, as long as he lived. He did not take his place merely among what are called, by generous courtesy, Educated Men, with most of whom education is past men who have studied; he studied always

and gone,

Life was to him an unbroken lesson, pleasant with the sweets of knowledge and the consciousness of improve

ment.

The world knows and reveres his learning; they only, whose privilege it was to partake somewhat of his daily life, fully know the modesty of his character. His knowledge was such that he seemed to be ignorant of nothing, while, in the perfection of his humility, he might seem to know nothing. By learning conspicuous before the world, his native diffidence withdrew him from its personal observation. Surely learning so great, which claimed so little, will not be forgotten. The modesty, which detained him in retirement during life, shall introduce him now that he is dead. Strange reward! The merit, which shrank from the living gaze, is now observed of all men. The soft voice of humility is returned, in pealing echoes, from the tomb.

In speaking of Pickering, I place in the front his modesty and his learning, the two attributes by which he will always be remembered. I might enlarge on his sweetness of temper, his simplicity of life, his kindness to the young, his sympathy with studies of all kinds, his sensibility to beauty, his conscientious character, his passionless mind. Could he speak to us with regard to himself, he might employ the words of selfpainting which dropped from the candid pen of his great predecessor in the cultivation of Grecian literature, the leader in its revival in Europe, as Pickering was, in some sort, in America, the urbane and learned Erasmus. "For my own part," says the early scholar to his English friend, John Colet, "I best know my own failings, and therefore shall presume to give a

character of myself. You have in me a man of little or no fortune, a stranger to ambition, of a strong propensity to loving-kindness and friendship, without any boast of learning, but a great admirer of it; one who has a profound veneration for any excellence in others, however he may feel the want of it in himself; who can readily yield to others in learning, but to none in integrity; a man sincere, open, and free; a hater of falsehood and dissimulation; of a mind lowly and upright; who boasts of nothing but an honest heart." *

I have called him the Scholar; for it is in this character that he leaves so choice an example of excellence. But the triumphs of his life are enhanced by the variety of his labors, and especially by his long career at the bar. He was a lawyer, whose days were worn in the faithful and uninterrupted practice of his profession, busy with clients, careful of their concerns, both in court and out of court. Each day witnessed his untiring exertions in scenes having little that was attractive to his gentle and studious nature. He was formed to be a seeker of truth rather than a defender of wrong; and he found less satisfaction in the hoarse strifes of the bar than in the peaceful conversation of books. To him litigation was a sorry feast, and a wellfilled docket of cases not unlike the curious and now untasted dish of "thistles," which sometimes formed a part of a Roman banquet. He knew that the duties of the profession were important and useful, but felt that even their successful performance, when unattended by a generous juridical culture, gave a slender title to regard; while they were less pleasant and ennobling far

* Erasmi Epist., Lib. V., Ep. 4.

than the disinterested pursuit of learning. He would have said, at least as regards his own profession, with the Lord Archon of the Oceana," I will stand no more to the judgment of lawyers and divines than to that of so many other tradesmen." *

It was the law as a trade, that he pursued reluctantly; while he had especial happiness in the science of jurisprudence, to which he devoted many hours rescued from other cares. By his example, and the various contributions of his pen, he elevated and adorned the study, and invested it with the charm of liberal pursuits. By marvellous assiduity, he was able to lead two lives, one producing the fruits of earth, the other those of immortality. In him was the union, rare as it is grateful, of the lawyer and the scholar. He has taught us how much may be done, amidst the toils of professional life, for the high concerns of jurispru dence and learning; while the clear and enduring lustre of his name, dimming the glow-worm sparkles of ordinary forensic success, reminds us, as by contrast, of the feeble and fugitive fame which is the lot of the mere lawyer, although clients may beat at his gates from the earliest cock crowing at the dawn.

To describe his multitudinous labors of scholarship would be impossible on this occasion. Although important contributions to the general sum of knowledge, they were of a character that is only slightly appreciated by the world at large. They were chiefly directed to two subjects, - classical studies and general philology, if these two may be regarded separately.

*Harrington's Oceana, 134.