CHAPTER XIV.

ADDRESS OF DEDICATION.-CORNELL LIBRARY.

Appreciative Co-operation.--Address of Dedication by Hon. Francis Miles Finch.-An Eloquent and Impressive Discourse.Educational Influence of Libraries.-Duty of Grateful Appreciation. Useful Lessons.-Neglected Opportunities.-Unhealthy Excitement.

FOREMOST among the citizens of Ithaca in evincing cordial and loyal appreciation of the good work so generously tendered, was one who from the beginning was zealous in endeavor to aid in promoting it; whose rich culture and valuable but unobtrusive services were freely rendered to the founder of the Library in carrying out his admirable purpose. This was the HON. FRANCIS MILES FINCH, now a distinguished Judge of the Court of Appeals of the State of New York, whose eminent abilities, great learning, and high character contribute much to elevate and strengthen that august tribunal. For many years he gave cheerful and valuable assistance to the organization. and management both of the Cornell Library, and University. With manifest propriety, this

estimable co-laborer in all of the munificent projects of Mr. Cornell, had been designated to pronounce the address of dedication on the occasion of the inaugural ceremonies of the Cornell Library. This extremely interesting production is here inserted, despite its considerable length, not only as an appropriate element of this record,, but also as a grateful tribute to the faithful, appreciative, and confidential friend of the founder.

DEDICATION ADDRESS.

BY HON. FRANCIS M. FINCH.

Ladies and Gentlemen: When the dream of a lifetime has been suddenly realized, it is difficult to believe that it is not a dream. Especially when this is effected by some unusual agency, whose creative force and energy operated with a power and certainty akin almost to enchantment, it is hard to grasp and master the wide range of results.

We who are assembled here in this completed and perfected edifice, containing within itself the elements of its own support and the power of independent action, free from the domination of the partisan, either in politics or in religion, with the rich columns and still alcoves, and waiting shelves of a library, where already rest the germs of a broad and liberal culture, and many rare triumphs of art and of literature, whose doors are open, whose privileges are promised, whose encouraging care belongs to all aliketo the child of want and weary poverty as well as him whose head is sheltered from the chill of every wind; we, who are gathered here, amid all these results of one clear brain, one generous heart, one lavish hand, can hardly estimate the value and grandeur of the gift. The receding waves of influence spread their widening circles to such distant shores that none can measure the endless

arc or tell the radius of the departing curve. A good deed done to-day repeats itself in the tireless repetitions of the years. A life of good deeds grows more beautiful as it nears its close, as the autumn woods gather a mellow splendor that does not belong to the brilliance of their June; and far along the summers that garland, and the winters that whiten, this changing world, that life, though ended, will still repeat its work, and nearer with the chime of every advancing hour, will approach the completion of its aims.

One such deed of broad beneficence begins its mission to-day. For the gift we receive we owe a debt of gratitude not to be paid by words. The world is full of hollow thanks; the forms of politeness flash like crystals, and are as cold; only as the warmth of grateful words is fed by the fire of grateful deeds are they worthy the giver or the gift. I do not, therefore, indulge in the flattering phrases of eulogy. The coinage is too cheap and easy. The pale dull notes that fluttered in the streets of burning Richmond were not more plenty nor more worthless. There is a way, however, to lift the load of obligation this day imposed, to pour back upon the heart that has made us rich the wealth of cheerful gratitude, to make the memory of our gift a daily happiness to the giver, and that way is to thoroughly appreciate what is bestowed. Neglect, misuse, destroy it, and the good becomes bad, the sweet grows bitter, the pleasure is a pain. Cherish and protect it, enjoy its beauty, thrive upon its benefits, keep it alive and busy with daily and earnest use, and the blessing it proves to us will add an hourly joy, a happiness sincere and unalloyed, to the life that has crowned its years of honest labor, of persistent faith and undaunted courage with this costly and generous gift.

The cavalier of days gone past, the hero of old romance, odd mixture of robber and gentleman, who, in the quaint pages of Froissart or Monstrelet, gives choice flowers to her whose colors adorn his helmet, is poorly repaid by the ready smile and phrase of courteous compliment, if, in an hour, he finds the faded petals crushed and thrown away, but is rewarded beyond desert if they bloom in the dark locks, or blossom in the castle window, watched

and watered with patient care. The generous friend who gives some work of art, some choicely selected triumph of the chisel, or the brush, some gem of Rome or Florence, has but slender thanks, if, after courtesy is done, and novelty is gone, the picture glooms in cobwebs, or in the dark, and the marble bust is broken or defaced; but is richly paid if, over the student's desk, or in the firelight of a cheerful home, his gifts are kept and prized. We can bear that toys and playthings should be first forgotten and then destroyed. The child's new happiness is so fresh and earnest that we feel at once repaid, and, knowing well the fitfulness of the little heart, the curious turns of the little mind, the sure destructiveness of the little hand, we expect, when the novelty has worn away, to see the doll bleeding sawdust from gaping wounds, the tin engine ruined in collision, the playhouse splintered by an earthquake.

But it is not a toy or a plaything with which we have to do. It is a broad and substantial good. And we are not children to be judged by the child's years and weakness. If, therefore, this great gift of ours, when every room has grown familiar, and every quaint old volume has lost its charms, and the rare birds of the hunter artist, and the bold illustrations of Dante's verse, and perfect etching of all art and science have ceased to be new and strange, if then we neglect them all, and shadows only occupy the quiet alcoves, and the neglected books gather dust upon their shelves, and the pleasant reading-rooms are dim and vacant, and the grand purpose of the gift fails of its aim, no flattering words of ours, however softly phrased or deftly framed, will soothe the painful convictions that the costly effort is but a waste and a failure.

Just here, and in the light of these reflections, we get clear views of our duty and our grave responsibility. The gratitude we owe for the princely gift whose keys and title-deeds have just been given us, demands that we appreciate the boon. Our own personal interests, the good that but awaits our will to take it, the long and endless train of benefits that are ours, if we will but have them-these, too, demand that we appreciate the gift. If you ask me how, you furnish me a theme hard to compress within the

moments granted me, and yet the one most needing thought, and of gravest consequence to us all. Let us, at least, frame some brief and general answer.

One cannot appreciate what he does not thoroughly understand. A man may see the expansive energy of steam, and even understand the engine mechanism-here opens, here shuts a valve, and the piston-rod moves, and the wheels revolve; but until he sees the giant power at work, beholds it linking with an iron chain the commerce of hemispheres, cutting the ocean into roads and grand avenues of trade, weaving the faintest fibre into glossy silk and spotless lawn, grinding the grain of continents, and proving itself the great world artisan, he utterly fails to appreciate the magnitude and grandeur of the tireless force. We must thoroughly comprehend the gift we have received, or we shall fail to appreciate its value. We have a costly edifice, a place for books, and rooms in which to read them. So much is on the surface. Set this simple machinery at work, and what is it then? An educating force, an aid and a stimulant to intelligence, the refining element of social life, the means and the guide of advancing civilization, the safeguard of freedom, the sure foundation of the Republic.

But just emerged from a sad and terrible war, let us not be blinded by the splendors of victory to the truth that underlies that victory. Brave as were our citizen soldiers, bravery alone would never have won success. Bravery, led by intelligence, sustained by intelligence, armed and supplied and stimulated by intelligence, that planted the stars upon every fortress, that turned the batteries of fate, that made the Republic iron-clad against its enemies. And if, in the future, we are to reap the promise of our youth, if the last great storm has been encountered, and the last deadly peril escaped, and the nation is to march steadily in the van of civilization, it will be because intelligence keeps pace with prosperity, because just such agencies as that we organize to-day crown the hillsides and crowd the valleys of the land. Commerce will not save us, wealth will not save us, armies will not save us. Only as every door is opened to that knowledge which is power,