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HARVARD MAGAZINE.

VOL. I.

DECEMBER, 1854.

No. 1.

TO THE PUBLIC.

THE question is often asked respecting our College, and the good old town in which we students are collected, some hundreds of young men, nominally pursuing a liberal education, why they have originated so little. Other universities have led the way in some of the many paths of science; we have Oxford classical editions; Königsberg, Berlin, and Edinburgh metaphysics; Parisian physics; Tübingen, Andover, and various other theologies; but have we yet seen Cambridge ethics, metaphysics, physics, or theology? and are we not just beginning to have Cambridge mathematics? At other universities, men say, systems are developed and perfected; here they are only criticized, and not always in the most catholic spirit. Nay, it is even said that we cannot start and sustain a college magazine; and we are told that repeated failures have proved the truth of this reproach. Notwithstanding which, we have dared to come forward with this our first venture in a new enterprise; and it becomes us, at starting, to hint at our purposes and our hopes.

We trust it is no trivial or unworthy motive which has induced us to commence this experiment, no desire of a cheap and narrow notoriety, no petty rivalry of other colleges, which publish magazines, and therefore, forsooth, we must have one. But we believe that among the three hundred and fifty students in college there are many who have something to say to which others will gladly listen, and, in their turn, answer to some purpose. We believe that it is possible for us to exhibit some fruit of our studies besides that which our semiannual examinations and exhibitions and our commencement parts display. We doubt not there are subjects which we may investigate and discuss, inquiries which we may pursue,

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books which we may criticize, men and systems which we may analyze; and that the result of all this may be of some value when set down in print. As a party of us, going out in the Adirondac woods in the summer vacation, brings at night each his contribution to the stores of the camp, one a deer which he has shot, another a dozen birds, a third a string of fish, and others still, flowers, minerals, fresh water, or firewood, so here we hope each of us will contribute his peculiar and welcome share. One has hunted mathematics into its lair; - let him bring us some trophies of his victory. Another has threaded the mazes of metaphysics; - let him map out the intricacies of the way for us. Here is one who has drunk deep at the sweet fountain of Grecian poesy, and may offer us the bright water from his golden cup; another shall cut a path for us through the thorny hedge which defends the castle of German literature, and feast us on the rich abundance there. Botanists, chemists, mineralogists, geologists, even political economists, shall be most welcome to us. And it is one of our pleasant hopes that this Magazine may prove a hive where all the busy bees who flit about these fields of science and literature will gladly store their honey, not only for present, but for future use.

But there are other fair grounds into which we hope to make incursions, the realms of Imagination. Science and history and philosophy are not everything, and we would not court them exclusively. Non omnia possumus omnes. We cannot all demonstrate or investigate or philosophize; we hope to have some dreamers among us. As a people, we are deficient in the culture of the imagination. As one of our noblest thinkers once said, "We would give more to see a good crop of mystics at Cambridge, than great naturalists, metaphysicians, or scholars." We hope to draw to our pages men of this class, enthusiasts, men of aspiration, poets, and humorists, as well as the representatives of positive and conservative acquirement. "Where there is no vision, the people perish"; and we fear that, without the help of enthusiastic and imaginative youths, our plan will prove abortive. Rather than check and chill a generous enthusiasm, our efforts shall be given to encourage it.

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We open our columns freely to everything that is new, and at the same time worthy of notice. Whoever has new facts or new explanations to offer, throwing light on any unexplored regions into which modern research is penetrating, shall have from us a patient and attentive hearing. We are not of those who reject with a sneer

all inquiry of this kind; but would cheerfully help, to the extent of our power, to extend on any side the domain of human knowledge. We believe that there may be new sciences, as well as progress in the old ones; nay, that men have as yet learned but few letters in the great alphabet of nature.

In the discussion of all subjects we shall aim to give the greatest freedom, and invite the most opposite opinions. It is the curse of our country that our literary men are, more than in most nations, the slaves of public censure. The fear of arousing a prejudice or awakening hostility constantly harasses the American scholar. Here, at least, we mean to be free from it. To whom, indeed, should freedom of thought be dear, but to him whose business is thought? The thinker should follow his impulse to its conclusions, unawed by any human authority, since to GoD alone is he responsible. In college we are all friends, all brothers, fellow pilgrims and disciples. We shall certainly, then, differ from each other with charity and temperance, since it is written in our natures that we must differ.

But we may be told that we are issuing a manifesto far too lofty and sounding for the magnitude of the enterprise in which we have engaged. We can only say, we hope not. We hope to make our Magazine a noticeable and dignified representative of the progress of sound learning in our University, worthy of the institution which sustains it and of the young men whose hearts are in its success. We are new at the labor we have undertaken, but we do it with a will. And we call on all our classmates, and the undergraduates generally, to aid us in a work so deserving their efforts.

In the name of the Senior and Junior Classes,

F. B. SANBORN,

C. A. CHASE,
PHILLIPS BROOKS,

J. J. JACOBSEN,
J. B. GREENOUGH,

E. T. FISHER.

CAMBRIDGE, November, 1854.

OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES.

NO. I.

AFTER the manner of Isocrates, I wish to pronounce an eulogium upon republican militia-men; but if my humble effort should fall short of the celebrated Panegyric, either in respect of eloquence or rhetorical beauty, then pardon me, youthful lovers, who, with flashing muskets, march through the streets, to delight the sparkling eyes that coquettishly peep at you from behind half-opened windowblinds! Pardon me, merchants and brokers, grocers and tailors, who, to escape the frying-pan of the jury-box, gallantly face the fire of blank cartridges! Pardon me, unfledged lawyers and physicians, who make walking advertisements of yourselves, and fill your pockets at the expense of shoe-leather! Friends in the artillery, discharge not the flannel bag of your indignation! Gentlemen of the cavalry, restrain your dangerous sabres, and your yet more dangerous horses! Fellow-citizens of the infantry, keep back those terrible bayonets from a breast which pants to do full justice to your numerous merits, and seeks to quench with ink that martial ardor which nothing save the blood of the enemies of its country can thoroughly cool! Militia-men of my native State, of my native country, look with charity and with patience upon the faults and the weaknesses of one of your most fervid admirers! The rumbling of cannonwheels, the clattering of horses' hoofs, the irregular tramp marching battalions, the rattling of drums, the squeaking of fifes, the ringing of bugles, - all, all are sweet music to my ears. Citizen soldiers, I respect you; and everything that is connected with you I admire. I look as upon a privileged person upon the man of color, who, on hot days, serves to you the glass of refreshing icedwater and the mug of invigorating root-beer. I think that the field on which you have encamped should, like the Cirrhæan plain, be kept uncultivated, and sacred to the god of war. It would be a touching, and at the same time an inspiring sight, to behold such patches of ground carefully fenced in, and kept, with pious zeal, from the profane tread of cattle, and from the polluting influences of the hoe, the spade, and the subsoil plough. The holes in which the ends of your tent-poles rested; the bottles, for the reception of blacking and other liquids, which you left behind you; the narrow

paths worn by the feet of your sentinels, would all be objects of deep interest to the mind of the military pilgrim. Your armories, too, whose walls have so often echoed the clank of the musket, the clink of the claret-glass, the snap of the percussion cap, and the pop of the champagne-cork, your armories, I say, should be venerated, if for no other reason, as the tombs of "old soldiers." The tomb of a soldier! of the soldier of liberty, who grasps his gun, who girds on his knapsack and cartridge-box, who marches forth, regardless of rain, heedless of hackney-coaches, and undaunted by puddles. Shall not the bard who sings thy praises be remembered by the garrison, in their stone-arched casements, by the regiments, in their canvas tents? Shall not his name be toasted and his pæans sung over the mess-table of the officer, over the pewter pan of the common soldier? Shall not his memory be kept very green by the newspapers? Ay, all this, and more. When the evening drum has beaten the retreat, and the muster-roll is called, his name shall be called also, and a gray-haired sergeant-major shall reply, "Died on the field of glory." La Tour! La Tour! thou shalt meet a kindred spirit when he dies.

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So the panegyrist of the warrior shall be lauded. But whence comes this universal admiration of the substance and of the shadow of martial glory? Why does the beauty of the ball-room turn coldly from a black coat, and graciously accept the arm which is covered by a blue sleeve and a gold-laced cuff? Why does the French bonne prefer the ill-paid soldier, with his brick-colored pantaloons, to Monsieur's valet, attired magnificently in his master's cast-off clothes? Is it because of the gorgeous apparel ? Then a wellappointed beadle would be the happiest of men. But I do not think I have ever heard or read of a fine lady who ran away with a beadle; though some, it is true, have eloped with their footmen. Perhaps, however, the gentlemen in these instances presented greater attractions and possessed more solid advantages than a handsome livery can bestow; it is well known, for example, that most footmen have finely proportioned legs. However this may be, it is most certain that no superficial investigation, which looks only at feathers and bullion and buttons, can ever solve the important problem under consideration. We must go beneath the regulation broadcloth, we must penetrate the padding, we must seek in the most hidden recesses of the breast, for those efficient causes which produce such singular effects. Then, and only then, shall we find that the love

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