PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY OF WASHINGTON. 213 



the polemical Bishop Warburton. Yet, having convinced him- 

 self that it was a duty which he owed to the cause of science, to 

 sink his own personality in the impersonal institution he was 

 called to conduct, Henry never paused for an instant to confer 

 with flesh and blood, but moved " right onward" in the path of 

 duty, with only the more of steadfastness, because he felt that 

 it was for him a path of sacrifice. 



How sedulously he strove to maintain the Institution in the 

 high vocation to which he believed it was appointed no less by a 

 sacred regard for the will of its founder than by an intelligent 

 zeal for the promotion of human welfare, is known to you all. 

 And the success with which he resisted all schemes for the im- 

 poverishment of the exalted function it was fitted to perform in 

 the service of abstract science, is a tribute at once to his rare 

 executive skill, and to the native force of character which made 

 him a tower of strength against the clamors of popular ignorance 

 and the assaults of charlatanism. Whatever might be the con- 

 sequences to himself personally, he was determined to magnify its 

 vocation and make it honorable. And hence I do. not permit 

 myself to doubt that during the long period of his administration, 

 as Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, covering a period of 

 thirty years, he has impressed upon its conduct a definite direc- 

 tion which his successors will be proud to maintain, not simply 

 in reverence for the memory of their illustrious predecessor, but 

 also in grateful recognition of the fruitful works which, in the 

 pursuit of his enlightened plans, will continue to follow him 

 now that he has rested from his labors. 



The rest into which he has entered came to him in a green 

 old age, after a life as full of years as it was full of honors. He 

 was not only blest with an old age which was 



serene and bright, 



And lovely as a Lapland night, 



but he also had that which, according to the great dramatist, 

 should accompany old age — "As honor, love, obedience, troops 

 of friends." And the manner of his death was in perfect keep- 

 ing with the manner of his life. Assured for months before the 

 inevitable hour came that his days on earth were numbered, he 

 made no change in his daily official employments, no change in 

 his social and literary diversions. None was needed. Surprise, 

 I learn, has been expressed that in the full prospect of death he 



