STAND-BY — 15 May 2013.
From the Archives.
THE liner Monroe of the Old Dominion Steamship company was sunk in a collision with the steamer Nantucket of the Merchants and Miners’ line off the coast of Virginia at 1:40 o’clock on the morning of Jan. 30, 1914. Forty-one persons lost their lives. Of these nineteen were passengers and twenty-two members of the crew. The Monroe left Norfolk, Va., at 7:40 p. m., Jan. 29 and ran into a light fog when outside the capes. She was proceeding cautiously on her way to New York, blowing a fog whistle every minute by an automatic time clock, and was about half way between Cape Charles lightship and the Winter Quarter lightship when she stopped on bearing a fog whistle on her starboard bow. Signals were exchanged, but in a few moments the other vessel, which proved to be the Nantucket, crashed Into the starboard side of the Monroe. The bow of the Nantucket penetrated one-third of the width of the Monroe and made sinking inevitable.
Every effort was made by the captain and crew to rescue the passengers. One lifeboat was crushed, another fell into the water and was swamped, while the boats on the port side could not be used on account of the heavy list of the vessel to the starboard. Two lifeboats, however, were successfully loaded and launched and several life rafts were also instrumental in saving many persons. Ferdinand Kuehn, wireless operator on the Monroe, after sending out signals for assistance, gave his life preserver to a woman just as the steamer began to sink, and went down with the ship.
Horace Mann—American education pioneer—states his views on the sepatation of church and education.
A veteran teacher … declared to his own minister, “If you will not come to my school, I will not go to your church.”
IN our last number, we made a few observations respecting the duty of parents to co-operate with teachers, in the education of their children. A veteran teacher, of high standing among his professional brethren, has requested us to consider the subject whose title stands at the head of this article,—the duty of clergymen to visit schools;—and, when making the request, he said, that in his impatience, he had declared to his own minister, “If you will not come to my school, I will not go to your church.”
Without stopping to inquire whether the teacher is more bound to attend church, or the minister to visit schools, or whether the non-performance of duty by either party cancels the obligation of the other, we would respectfully but earnestly appeal to the clergymen of Massachusetts, not to forget, amid the pressure of their strictly parochial duties, the relation in which they stand to the Public Schools. Indeed, we presume that no one, at the present day, would gainsay the remark, that the visitation of the Public Schools is to be enumerated among parochial duties,—that it is part and parcel of the cure of souls. For, if children are allowed to grow up without intellectual cultivation and without the acquisition of knowledge,—if, in addition to that wild exuberance of the appetites and passions, which characterizes barbarian life, their vigorous propensities shall shoot forth untrained and unpruned amid all the hot excitements with which they are plied by the luxuries and the ambitions of our present half-civilization, or one-sided civilization,—if they are suffered, we say, to develop themselves, uncounselled and unrestrained, amid these goading stimulants, each clergyman will soon have heathen in abundance to preach to, in his own parish; and he may go on a daily mission to pagans, without quitting his own society.
THE Yankee boy, before he’s sent to school
Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool,
The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye
Turns, while he hears his mother’s lullaby;
His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it,
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it;
And in the education of the lad
No little part that implement hath had.
His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings
A growing knowledge of material things.
CROMWELL, our chief of men, who, through a cloud
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough’d,
And on the neck of crowned fortune proud
Hast rear’d God’s trophies, and his work pursued,
While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued,
And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester’s laureate wreath. Yet much remains
To conquer still; peace hath her victories
No less renown’d than war: new foes arise
Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains.
Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.
Joseph Story—selected for the Supreme Court by James Madison in 1811—publishes a text book based on his series of commentaries on the United States Constitution first published in 1833. The 1840 text book also includes a chapter on the Bill of Rights based on his commentaries.
Republics are created by the virtue, public spirit, and intelligence of the citizens. They fall, when the wise are banished from the public councils, because they dare to be honest, and the profligate are rewarded, because they flatter the people in order to betray them.—§ 459, Concluding Remarks.
§ 431. WHEN the Constitution was before the people for adoption, several of the State conventions suggested certain amendments for the consideration of Congress, some of the most important of which were afterwards proposed to the people for adoption, by that body, at its first organization; and, having been since ratified, they are now incorporated into the Constitution. They are mainly clauses, in the nature of a Bill of Rights, which more effectually guard certain rights, already provided for in the Constitution, or prohibit certain exercises of authority, supposed to be dangerous to the public interests. We have already had occasion to consider several of them in the preceding pages; and the remainder will now be presented.
§ 432. Before, however, proceeding to the consideration of them, it may be proper to say a few words, as to the origin and objects of the first ten amendments, which nay be considered as a Bill of Rights, and were proposed by the first Congress, and were immediately adopted by the people of the United States. The first amendment is, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”
§ 433. It has been already stated, that many objections were taken to the Constitution, not only on account of its actual provisions, but also on account of its deficiencies and omissions. Among the latter, none were proclaimed with more zeal, and pressed with more effect, than the want of a Bill of Rights. This, it was said, was a fatal defect; and sufficient of itself to bring on the ruin of the republic. To this objection, several answers were given; first, that the Constitution did, in fact, contain many provisions in the nature of a Bill of Rights, if the whole Constitution was not, in fact, a Bill of Rights; secondly, that a Bill of Rights was in its nature more adapted to a monarchy, than to a government, professedly founded upon the will of the people, and executed by their immediate representatives and agents; and, thirdly, that a formal Bill of Rights, beyond what was contained in it, was wholly unnecessary, and might even be dangerous.
WE see but half the causes of our deeds,
Seeking them wholly in the outer life,
And heedless of the encircling spirit-world,
Which, though unseen, is felt, and sows in us
All germs of pure and world-wide purposes.
From one stage of our being to the next
We pass unconscious o’er a slender bridge,
The momentary work of unseen hands,
Which crumbles down behind us; looking back,
We see the other shore, the gulf between,
And, marvelling how we won to where we stand,
Content ourselves to call the builder Chance.
We trace the wisdom to the apple’s fall,
Not to the birth-throes of a mighty Truth
Which, for long ages in blank Chaos dumb,
Yet yearned to be incarnate, and had found
At last a spirit meet to be the womb
From which it might be born to bless mankind,—
Not to the soul of Newton, ripe with all
The hoarded thoughtfulness of earnest years,
And waiting but one ray of sunlight more
To blossom fully.
James Wilson—signator of the Declaration of Independence, member of the Continental Congress, drafter of the U.S. Constitution, and an original Justice on the Supreme Court—delivers a series of lectures on the law late in his life.
The opinion has been very general, that, in order to obtain the blessings of a good government, a sacrifice must be made of a part of our natural liberty. I am much inclined to believe, that, upon examination, this opinion will prove to be fallacious. It will, I think, be found, that wise and good government—I speak, at present, of no other—instead of contracting, enlarges as well as secures the exercise of the natural liberty of man: and what I say of his natural liberty, I mean to extend, and wish to be understood, through all this argument, as extended, to all his other natural rights.
WE have now viewed the whole structure of government; we have now ranged over its numerous apartments and divisions; and we have examined the materials of which it is formed. For what purpose has this magnificent palace been erected? For the residence and accommodation of the sovereign, Man.
Does man exist for the sake of government? Or is government instituted for the sake of man?
Is it possible, that these questions were ever seriously proposed? Is it possible, that they have been long seriously debated? Is it possible, that a resolution, diametrically opposite to principle, has been frequently and generally given of them in theory? Is it possible, that a decision, diametrically opposite to justice, has been still more frequently and still more generally given concerning them in practice? All this is possible: and I must add, all this is true. It is true in the dark; it is true even in the enlightened portions of the globe.
At, and nearly at the commencement of these lectures, a sense of duty obliged me to enter into a controversial discussion concerning the rights of society: the same sense of duty now obliges me to enter into a similar discussion concerning the rights of the constituent parts of society—concerning the rights of men. To enter upon a discussion of this nature, is neither the most pleasant nor the most easy part of my business. But when the voice of obligation is heard, ease and pleasure must preserve the respectful silence, and show the cheerful acquiescence, which become them.