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A I) 1) K E S S 
 
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 %,n^^Umt l^,x^(nim, 
 
 Tf O^lTHf] i ■., 
 
 ON SATI'KDv^Y, GOT, 19, I860, 
 
 • BY TJIR 
 
 HON«ORA11].E CHARLES D. MY, 
 
 t^ne of itic Jiioliini at: tftr ^iiprnor rouii uf aoUtr CaiwDa. 
 
 I'Kil.NTlID BY KOI.I O i 4 n t-lt;i:i.(.. 
 
 1850. 
 
Executive Committee, Provincial Industrial Exhilition, 
 
 Montreal, October 22, 1850. 
 
 Besdvedy^Th&t the thanks of this Committee be presented to his 
 Honor Mr. Justice Day, for having so kindly acceded to tlie desire 
 of the Committee to deliver an Address on the occasion of the lato 
 Industrial Exhibition; and that the Chairman, Secretary, and G. E. 
 Cartier, Esq. M.P.P., be appointed a Sub-Committee to communi- 
 cate the above vote, and respectfully to solicit his Honor to favour 
 the Committee with a copy of the very eloquent and beautiful 
 address which he delivered, in order that the same may be publislied 
 by the Committee. 
 
 True Copy from the Journals. 
 
 JOHN LEEMING, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
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ADDRESS. 
 
 I APPEAR before you in compliance with the request 
 of the Executive Committee of the Provincial Indus- 
 trial Exhibition ; but I do so with a sincere distrust 
 of my ability to satisfy the expectations which the 
 occasion may be supposed reasonably to excite. The 
 difficulty of executing, in a fitting manner, the task 
 assigned me, does not arise from any want of topics, 
 but, on the contrary, from their very affluence. It is 
 a nice business to select and classify from this abun- 
 dance, the subjects and course of thought which are 
 best worthy of consideration, and most likely to secure 
 attention, and awaken interest in those whom I 
 address. 
 
 The character and object of this assembly, remote 
 from all the passions and jealousies, the political con- 
 flicts and local dissensions, with which small com- 
 munities are peculiarly liable to be infested, and in 
 which, to say the lea^t, we are not behind the rest 
 of the world, would alone afford a theme for copious 
 discourse, — and for mutual congratulation, that here 
 we meet in peace and genial brotherhood, rejoicing 
 in the interchange of sympathies which belong to 
 our common humanity, and safe and sheltered be- 
 neath that broad and tranquil spirit, from all the 
 
(i 
 
 agitation of the storms without. Then on every 
 hand the productions of Nature and of Art, which 
 we have so lately viewed, invite attention, and sug- 
 gest inquiries and reflections without limit. Here, 
 are the treasures which have been rifled from 
 the mine, or drawn from their deep recesses in the 
 earth ; there, are the varied objects which grew be- 
 neath the waters. On this side, the rewards of skil- 
 ful culture of the soil, the grains, and roots, and fruits 
 and flowers which sustain the life, and delight the 
 senses of man ;— on the other, the inventions of art and 
 the wonders of mechanical construction. A thousand 
 things, from all the various workshops of nature in 
 her several kingdoms, and a thousand more from the 
 plastic hand of industry, attract the eye, and offer 
 themselves to curious speculation. But to deal with 
 their physical character, and relations, and uses, if I 
 were able to do it, would require a book for each ; 
 and instead of the half-hour for which I bespeak your 
 patience, would be the labor of half a life. 
 
 Instead, then, of considering these objects with re- 
 ference to what they are as material things, I would 
 fain derive from them, and not from them alone, but 
 also from the great mustering of nations to which they 
 point, a teaching of the past and present, and some- 
 thing of that which is to come. As there are tongues 
 in trees, books in the running brooks, which utter to 
 the heart things of high import ; so also in these evi- 
 dences of human intelligence and labor, is there a 
 language not to be mistaken. They are the enduring 
 records of progress from barbarism to civilization ; 
 the heralds of future growth and excellence j the 
 
every 
 which 
 nd sug- 
 Here, 
 from 
 in the 
 vew be- 
 of skil- 
 id fruits 
 ight the 
 f art and 
 thousand 
 lature in 
 from the 
 md offer 
 deal with 
 uses, if I 
 for each ; 
 )eak your 
 
 s with re- 
 3, I would 
 alone, but 
 vhich they 
 and some- 
 re tongues 
 h utter to 
 these evi- 
 is there a 
 B enduring 
 vilization ; 
 lence; the 
 
 tracks — to adopt the apt word of another --the tracks 
 of thought. 
 
 You come but now from the interesting display of 
 these productions of man's ingenuity in another hall ; 
 you have surveyed them there : did you see in them 
 nothing but wood and iron, and brass and leather ? 
 Look at them again, and they will tell you of hours of 
 deep, laborious, persevering meditation — of weariness 
 of body — of exhaustion of spirits — discouragement, 
 almost despair — of revived hope and energy, and 
 victories — glorious victories of mind, won inch by inch 
 over the strong, although inert, resistance of matter 
 and its laws. And how won ? By the patient in- 
 dustry which dares and conquers all. The truth is, 
 that these things are the handwriting of the inventor 
 and the mechanic : they are, to his mind, the expres- 
 sion of its efforts and its power, as fully as the exact 
 language of the philosopher, and the eloquent and 
 glowing sentences of the poet, are the expression of 
 t theirs. We are apt to overlook or underrate the 
 I intelligence which is not recorded in books, and to 
 forget that the faculties which are every day called 
 into exercise, not only in mechanical inventions, but in 
 I many of the arts of life, are closely allied to those, 
 iv/hich, under different training and with another di- 
 f rection, give literary and scientific fame. There must 
 I be in the head of the inventor, as close a logic, as in 
 that of the mathematician .; a creative power similar 
 in kind, if not equal in degree, to that of the poet ; 
 and the patent office of most countries, nay, this Ex- 
 hibition, indicates the extent to which these qualities 
 have been possessed, and the intensity and perseverance 
 
8 
 
 ii I 
 
 with which they have been exerted. The stcudfust, 
 resolute application of the mental energies, in a cer- 
 tain direction, and with a fixed object, makes the 
 difference, perhaps all the difference, between civilized 
 and savage man. It is an essential feature of savage 
 life, that no continuous effort of thought is found in 
 it. Its exertions are prompted by the immediate ex- 
 citements'—of the animal appetites — of the chase, or of 
 war ; and when these cease, the activity of uncultured 
 man is done. He fills their intervals with no self* 
 imposed task of body or of mind. If it were possible 
 to induce in him the habit of assuming and sustaining 
 the kind and degree of mental labor, by which the 
 simplest of these machines has been produced, he 
 would cease to be a savage. It is obvious, that the 
 mere possession of the convenient results of me- 
 chanical ingenuity, is not alone an evidence of civili- 
 zation ; for it is quite possible, that by the accident of 
 conquest, or as a legacy from a former age, they may 
 exist among a people ignorant of their principles of 
 action, and utterly destitute of the mental training 
 necessary to their construction. Numerous examples 
 of this might be found during the period of barbarism 
 which succeeded to the civilization of Rome. A fa- 
 miliar one occurs with respect to a very beautiful des- 
 cription of glass, the art of manufacturing which was 
 for centuries completely lost, although the thing itself 
 remained. Another instance is afforded by those mar- 
 vels of art, the remains of ancient sculpture, which 
 have survived the ravages of time and war. These, 
 in the hands of after generations, are no evidence of 
 their civilization, because the associations of refined 
 intelligence, and exquisite sensibility, and brave 
 
!) 
 
 Lcudfast, 
 n a ccr- 
 ikcs the 
 civilized 
 f savage 
 found in 
 diato ex- 
 ase, or of 
 cultured 
 no self* 
 possible 
 ustaining 
 hich the 
 uced, he 
 that the 
 of me- 
 of civili- 
 :cident of 
 they may 
 iciples of 
 [ training 
 examples 
 barbarism 
 e. A fa- 
 itiful des- 
 vhich was 
 ling itself 
 hose mar- 
 re, which 
 . These, 
 ^idence of 
 of refined 
 [id brave 
 
 '1 
 
 iiulubtry, which niado thcni, belungcd nut to their 
 age. 
 
 We have lately seen amongst us a creation of the 
 sculptor's art of most entrancing beauty — the statue 
 of the Greek Slave. But, alas I the story of its birth 
 is the rich possession of another land. If, in gazing on 
 that great work, I could have said, " this was achieved 
 in Canada,"— upon that argument alor j, I would have 
 claimed for this our country a proud place among the 
 nations. Not merely because I saw upon that cold 
 and senseless marble the impress of genius — a gift lao 
 often useless, and sometimes mischievous — but because 
 joined to that, I read the record of a nobler thing ; the 
 chastening and elevating discipline of long years of 
 self-denying meditation and enduring toil. The his- 
 tory of the daily progress in conceiving, and composing, 
 and completing such a work, would be a golden lesson 
 to mankind. The first happy thought, wrung out by 
 study, or perhaps flashing uncalled upon the artist's 
 mind — the dim vision of a loveliness all impalpable and 
 unformed j— the silent revery — the deep abstraction, 
 in which for months, perchance for years, the labouring 
 and far-reaching fancy sought, with intense desire, to 
 grasp, and to define and harmonize — till, yielding to 
 the mighty invocation, his ideal of pure and holy 
 beauty, step by step, came slowly forth, and radiant 
 and distinct, stood in its matchless symmetry before 
 him. But it was still a shadow, and no more — a 
 subtle radiation from the graces of his own soul— 
 and like the sunbeam, ere its wandering hues have 
 been caught and rendered by the faithful prism, 
 unseen, save by the enchanter's eye, — to the gross 
 
wmsssm 
 
 10 
 
 /it 
 
 world viewless, even as " the spirit of a lovely sound." 
 T- en came the hard task of transcribing this idea for 
 the perception of his fellow men, — of writing down in 
 iinpcrishable characters the lineaments which lived 
 upon his brain, and in his heart, and were to him a 
 reality as palpable and vivid as he has since made* 
 them to the gaze of spell-bound thousands. How 
 little adapted to be the medium for translating the 
 ideal into the rejil — for revealing to the world by out- 
 ward signs, the mysterious sense of beauty in the soul, 
 seemed the ductile clay, which with tedious and patient 
 manipulation, the sculptor forced to take the very 
 form and likeness of his thought. And now was to 
 be accomplished the crowning work, — to link that 
 thought not only to the hearts of living men, but to 
 all after generations. From its dark bed in the eternal 
 hills was hewn the ponderous and spotless block ; and 
 slowly, beneath the incessant steel, emerges from the 
 shapeless mass the rude outline of a human form — 
 then, the more finished contour — the round and per- 
 fect limbs — the noble head — the faultless countenance, 
 with its serene brow — its lip, firm, mournful, not 
 without disdain — and eye, sightless to all around, but 
 borne on the winged soul to loved and distant lands. 
 And over all, the nameless charm of attitude, and the 
 expression of an inward life, which makes that form 
 of stone, a liviig and a wondrous thing, — a royal spoil 
 of grace and beauty, wrested by the might of genius 
 and his patient, brother labor, from the dull domain of 
 inexpressive matter. • ; , ^t !';~,r'^ J si- 
 
 lt is not here the place to dwell upon the peculiar 
 character of the beauties of this statue. I have 
 
y sound." 
 8 idea for 
 down in 
 ich lived 
 to him a 
 nee made* 
 Is. How 
 atincr the 
 d by out- 
 i the soul, 
 id patient 
 the very 
 w was to 
 ink that 
 n, but to 
 le eternal 
 i>ck ; and 
 from the 
 n form — 
 and per- 
 ntenance, 
 tiful, not 
 )und, but 
 nt lands. 
 , and the 
 hat form 
 )yal spoil 
 >f genius 
 lomain of 
 
 peculiar 
 I have 
 
 M 
 
 [perhaps digressed too mu<;h. Hut in jiU tli'it 1 have 
 [said I wish to impress this simple truth, that vir- 
 [tuous, diligent, and earnest labour alone secures thct 
 best triumphs of our race. It constitutes tlie excel- 
 lence, as well of nations, as of individuals ; and is 
 not merely a test, but is itself a form, and no moan 
 form, of civilization. Hence a wisdom and a duty, 
 [above the motive of accumulating wealth, in fostering 
 the growth and progress of industrial art. It records 
 I the intellectual condition of a people as surely as their 
 I literature ; and future ages would read in the inven- 
 tions of our day the great development of a diffused 
 intelligence, even if our innumerable books — I mean 
 those entitled to the name — were by some wide ruin 
 blotted from the memory of man. 
 
 But enough of time has been bestowed upon the 
 objects of this Provincial Exhibition. Let us now 
 direct attention to the great assembly in the parent 
 country, to which it is preparatory. And as introduc- 
 tory to this, I would solicit your permission to idvert 
 rapidly to some great assemblies which history has 
 transmitted to us from former days ; for the purpose 
 of shewing, that as they were the creatures and expres- 
 sion of the spirit of their times, so is that meeting for 
 the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations a 
 demonstration of the spirit of ours. 
 
 The social instinct of man, after first forming small 
 communities, seeks gradually to enlarge the circle of 
 association, and, ever true to itself, would, but for the 
 agency of antagonistic principles, have long since 
 united the unnumbered varieties of the human race 
 
»l 
 
 \'> 
 
 into one vast family. How active and unswerving 
 this instinct is, appears from the history of the origin 
 of nations. First, a single family, or a small band of 
 roving savages ; then a tribe, or a clan ; next a petty 
 nation, circumscribed within the limits of a modern 
 county ; and at last one of a great combination, making 
 up a populous and powerful state. Now this pro- 
 gressive aggregation would not stop here of itself; 
 but at a certain point, as if such had ever been the 
 appointed order of Providence, it is met and re- 
 sisted by a variety of adverse influences, and its 
 consummation in universal fraternity is withstood. 
 Yet in spite of this, the strong propensity still 
 struggles on ; and it is remarkable, that at different 
 periods of the world's history, it has declared itself 
 by general combinations and assemblies of the 
 nations of the earth : sometimes, at regular periods, 
 during a succession of ages, and for a uniform 
 object ; and at others, on a single occasion, and for 
 a temporary purpose, common to all. The sacred 
 games of Greece present an instance of a collection 
 of the former character. Hundreds of thousands 
 congregated periodically for centuries at these 
 games, not only from Greece, but from the surround- 
 ing countries, to share or witness the contests of 
 strength and courage which belonged to a martial 
 people — and also, in later times, ihe higher rivalry 
 in literature and the arts. And so great was the 
 anxiety to swell the multitudes, whose presence gave 
 importance to the scene, that the hostile operations 
 of nations at war with each other — no rare occurrence 
 among that irritable people— were for that purpose 
 suspended with one accord. 
 
13 
 
 Another instance of these assemblies, of a different 
 
 character, and in a widely different state of society^ 
 
 2curs in the descent of the barbarian hordes, under 
 
 [Attila the Hun, upon the dependencies of the Roman 
 Empire. Around the standard of that leader, .7ho 
 )ore the terrible title of ** the scourge of God," gathered 
 
 Ithe various tribes and nations of the north and east 
 >f Europe, attracted by one common love of strife and 
 
 Iconquest, and scenting from afar, as with a vulture*<i 
 
 [instinct, the blood and spoil of distant and unoffending 
 
 I lands. 
 
 A third example of this great gathering of countries 
 
 \ remote from each other, and divided by language, and 
 
 laws, and interests, is to be found in that strange 
 
 episode of history, the Crusades. There a spirit of 
 
 [religious devotion, acting on a warlike age, produced 
 
 I the spectacle of one universal impulse over the entire 
 
 i population of the christian world, breaking up, as it 
 
 [were, all the foundaticms of domestic and social repose, 
 
 i and to borrow a well known phrase, hurling upon Asia 
 
 uprooted £ur<^)e% 
 
 I have selected these three familiar and prominent 
 cases, because they are fsuoailiar ; and I can take it 
 for granted, that their details are well known to my 
 audience. 
 
 Now in each of these assemblies is contained an 
 exposition, too strong and earnest to be mistaken, of 
 the feelings, and habits, and character of the times to 
 which they respectively belong. Who does not see 
 in the generous contests and wide-spread influence of 
 
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 ^ww^w^^WBW^^ppppflWiipgjIIigijfj 
 
 fSSSS 
 
 U 
 
 the Olympic Games, the type and essence of two great 
 properties ? First the martial ardour, which viewed 
 with unquailing eye the terrible array of the vain- 
 glorious Persian ; and in its lofty valour and stern self- 
 devotion rolled back that countless host in dismay and 
 death ; — and next, the love of intellectual excellence 
 which has clustered around that fair and favored land ; 
 the classic memories and priceless relics, which have 
 made it a shrine of nations ; whose bright altar-fires, 
 in storm and darkness — obscured but not extinguished 
 — ^veiled but not lost — first sent their beaming light 
 through the deep night of ignorance and barbarism, 
 in one broad hemisphere ; and then, gleaming athwart 
 an unknown sea, to an undreamed-of world, undimmed 
 by the revolution of 2000 years, shine here, yes, even 
 here, in these regions of the frozen North. 
 
 It is evident that among that people the accom- 
 plishments which gave eminence in war, were greeted 
 with a warmer enthusiasm than those which grace the 
 scenes of peace. And from these two properties, in 
 that subordination, and not from the arbitrary will of 
 one man, or of many, grew slowly up the vast assem- 
 blies which congregated for so many ages at those 
 renowned and long enduring games. They were the 
 expression of the spirit of civilized Europe — a spirit 
 composed of the genius of war, softened and refined 
 by the genius of mental cultivation. 
 
 But the picture to which we must now turn is of a 
 far difierent aspect, yet is it no less a marked and full 
 embodiment of the spirit of its age. When Attila 
 gathered from the distant plains of Scythia, and from 
 
15 
 
 aridus parts of Europe, the thronging hordes which 
 welled his army to five hundred thousand fighting 
 on, it was not by the appliances and energy of his 
 rsonal will, or military power, strong as these were, 
 ihat he drew together those remote and hostile races ; 
 ut because in that barbarian world he was essentially 
 he representative of its character and tendencies, 
 e became its spokesman ; and when he uttered in 
 rumpet tones the words " battle," " conquest," " spoil," 
 hey thrilled directly to each ready and responding 
 eart. He merely touched and quickened the pulse, 
 he only common pulse, which beat as in one frame 
 trough that great multitude. 
 
 Let me not be told that he created, or that any 
 an creates the disposition of his time. Generations 
 ome and go, while the occult causes which elaborate, 
 ,nd change, and form the fabric of society, are silently 
 t work \ and all that one mind ever did, or can do, 
 to detect and understand, to rouse' and wield the 
 rit of his age — at once its leader and its slave. If 
 ttila, instead of the pervading thought and aspira- 
 ion of the men with whom he lived, had pronounced 
 ords of peace, and urged some mission of philan- 
 hropy, he would have been as powerless as his meanest 
 bllower to cement and rule that crude unquiet host, 
 nd if for such a mission he had demanded years of 
 anger and of suffering, and life poured out as water 
 secure success, his answer would have been a yell 
 f fury and derision, enough to shake even his iron 
 fsoul. But his was no mission of peace : it was his 
 oast, that where his charger trod, grass never grew. 
 And answering to his call, as one beast of prey answers 
 
/"»? 
 
 1(5 
 
 to its fellow, that mass of human beasts of prey 
 swept on in its pitiless and direful course, leaving a 
 wide and fearful track of blood and rapine, desolation 
 and despair. It is not my purpose to pursue his- 
 torical details ; it is enough to add, that at Chalons 
 the mighty tide was encountered and turned back, by 
 the mightier arm of civilised warfare. But the 
 hundred and fifty thousand corpses which strewed 
 that ghastly field, proved well how broad, and deep, 
 and earnest was the impulse which had led and left 
 them there. 
 
 This was the unmixed spirit of barbarian war and 
 rapine, unrelieved by intellectual culture — unmiti- 
 gated by any generous though mistaken sentiment; 
 not war, with its crimes, and groans, and agonies, 
 covered by the tinsel vhich men call glory,— but war 
 for the spoil it gave. I know not which has the ad- 
 vantage in point of morality ; but it must be admitted, 
 that never was *the naked hideousness of this Moloch 
 of all time more awfully unveiled. 
 
 I pass on to a phase of humanity, of less unmixed 
 evil — those great monuments of Christendom known 
 as the Crusades. Near the close of the eleventh 
 century, Peter the Hermit returned from his pil- 
 grimage to Jerusalem, that sacred city, the cradle of 
 our faith. Oppressed with all that he had witnessed 
 of the desecration of a place hallowed by association 
 with the most momentous event the world ever 6aw, 
 and stung with deep indignation at the contempt and 
 injuries which, with his fellow pilgrims, he had en- 
 dured at the hand of the proud infidel who held 
 
17 
 
 iomiuion there ; — he poured into the hearts of 
 lympathising millions the passionate excitements 
 )f his own. He painted the woes he had seen 
 i,nd felt; and u'ged upon his moved and willing 
 ludience, as a high and holy duty, the rescue of that 
 iptive land. 
 
 The bursting cry, " God wills it 1 — God wills it I" — 
 
 I which rang through the length and breadth of con- 
 
 jtinental Europe, and was echoed back from the roused 
 
 [islands of the sea, shewed how potent, and how 
 
 [comprehensive must have been the spirit which the 
 
 [feeble spell of his single voice could thus evolve. It 
 
 I was the spirit of his time ;— the commingled genius of 
 
 war and chivalry, inspired and directed by religious 
 
 enthusiasm. Its mighty expression, by the repeated 
 
 combinations of all the powers of Christendom, has 
 
 been already alluded to ; but it is worthy of remark, 
 
 [that these combinations occurred at periods when the 
 
 [nations of Europe were arrayed against each other in 
 
 internal wars — when the power of Rome was resisted 
 
 I by France and Germany— and the possession of that 
 
 I power itself disputed by two rival claimants of the 
 
 Papal throne. ■) , 
 
 This strikingly displays with what vitality the spirit, 
 which during the lapse of years has silently ripened 
 in the bosom of a people, struggles to the surface ; 
 and at last, released by some frequently accidental and 
 apparently inadequate agency, asserts at once, with 
 irresistible force, its supremacy over all the local, 
 and partial interests, and opinions, and conflicts of 
 the day. L. 
 
i 
 
 18 
 
 It would bo easy to multiply illustrations of these 
 great vindications of the temper of different ages, by 
 the spontaneous combinations of their generations 
 upon one common object. The history of the East 
 affords instances more striking, though less familiar 
 than those which have been selected ; but I have 
 perhaps gone as far in this direction as I can venture 
 to do, without becoming wearisome ^ and I hasten to 
 inquire, whether the great and novel assembly to 
 which this meeting, and many others, are but hand- 
 maids, be in any degree an exponent of the spirit of 
 our age ; and if yea, 'what manner of spirit that is. 
 
 The style and title of that assembly at once explains 
 its particular purpose, and its comprehensive design. 
 It is called an "Exhibition of the Industry of all 
 Nations,** and embraces every kind of production of 
 nature and of art. It is to be held in London, in the 
 month of May next ; and so long ago as in July last, 
 in seventeen states of Europe, and in the United States 
 of America, and even in Turkey, steps had been taken 
 for being represented there. To this list it is likely 
 that, besides the Colonial dependencies of Great 
 Britain, other additions have since been made. 
 
 Now it seems to me, that one of two things is 
 certain in connection with this project. Either it was 
 a crude idea, unfitted to the times, and not intelligible 
 to the masses ; or else, it was one of those great and 
 pervading thoughts which, as in the examples I have 
 already given, need only be proclaimed to insure 
 immediate sympathy, and an earnest co-operation. 
 There is enough of evidence to satisfy my mind, that 
 
1}} 
 
 It is essentially of the latter character ; one of those 
 Suggestions springing from and harmonizing with the 
 temper of the times j originating, it may be, in some 
 Dbscure and humble source — then more widely cir- 
 bulated and discussed — until at last it was pronounced 
 ])y the lips of power and influence ; and thus given to 
 Ihe world, is likely to receive a practical and most 
 Successful execution. 
 
 It is nothing that among those whose trade it is to 
 
 lest, or who see no grave significance in the events 
 
 )f life, it has been a theme for sport and ridicule ; for 
 
 those who believe this life of ours, with all its 
 
 lysteries, to be an earnest and a solemn thing, this 
 
 3aceful gathering of the nations will be found a 
 
 >ledge that a change has fallen on the minds of men, 
 
 id a sign shadowing forth the advent of that highest 
 
 )rm of civilization, in which the rude and fierce pro- 
 
 3nsities of man — the animal — shall be subdued before 
 
 le expanded growth and high attainments of his 
 
 loral nature. I say, the advent of that highest form 
 
 civilization, for it is a truth which saddens the 
 
 iistory of our race, that in all forms of its society — 
 
 ider all its aspects, and amid all its vicissitudes since 
 
 le world began — war and strife were there. Among 
 
 le untaught sons of barbarism it must be so. But 
 
 lually in the polished states of Greece and Rome 
 
 id this spirit reign supreme. Their most favored 
 
 ith to fame and power lay through the battle field ; 
 
 id he who could not follow its ensanguined course, 
 
 keld, at the highest, but a second place. When the 
 
 im realities of war were for a time suspended, their 
 
 ibols found a place in public games and cruel spec- 
 
20 
 
 tacles. And thus the civilization of the empires of 
 antiquity, at its very highest point, was infected and 
 debased by this instinctive and ferocious love of 
 conflict and destruction. In the modern world, too 
 — the Christian world — notwithstanding the culture 
 which arts and letters give, aided by the strong in- 
 fluences which the ancients never had, this fatal passion 
 has ruled the nations ; — and from Moscow to the 
 Mediterranean — from the Volga to the shores of 
 the Atlantic — in almost every portion of that wide 
 space — amid the stained snows of winter, and summer's 
 waving harvests, from age to age, have the clang of 
 arms and the thunder of artillery resounded — and the 
 calmest, sweetest scenes on earth, have been invaded 
 and defiled by the tramp and agony of embattled 
 hosts. Ah! who can tell the sum of human blood, 
 poured out in torrents, that might the " multitudinous 
 sea incarnadine" — the sum of human forms, stretched 
 mouldering on the rent and furrowed plains, tainting the 
 sweet breath of the mom with pestilence and death — 
 the sighs and tears of sorrowing and crushed afiection 
 — and worse than these, the fierce hat^ the fell im- 
 precation, and all the terrible and unbridled passions 
 which inflamed and tore those now unbeating hearts ? 
 But for us there is hope which the empires of the 
 ancient world could not have ; there are in our civili- 
 zation two elements and motive powers, unknown to 
 theirs : — the one divine^ a gift direct from Heaven — 
 our Christian faith ; the other, the reward oi human 
 efibrt — the wide spread commerce, and the clos^ con- 
 stant intercourse which has grown out oi it, or with 
 it, and is at once a cause and an effect. In our own 
 day, there is a marvellousness in the approximation of 
 
al 
 
 empires of 
 fected and 
 IS love of 
 world, too 
 he culture 
 strong in- 
 tal passion 
 ow to the ^ 
 shores of 
 that wide 
 1 summer's 
 e clang of 
 I — and the 
 in invaded 
 emhattled 
 nan blood, 
 Ltitudinous 
 stretched 
 ainting the 
 id death — 
 d affection 
 le fell im- 
 d passions 
 ig hearts? 
 re9 of the 
 our civiK- 
 iknown to 
 Meayen — 
 c^ human 
 clos^ con- 
 t, or with 
 n our own 
 imatkni of 
 
 locos hitherto divided by an almost impassable re- 
 otetiess. Steam, that untiring giant, traversing, swift 
 s an eagle's flight, the land and ocean— and the very 
 ightnings of Heaven tamed down to do man's bid- 
 ing, have, as it were, annihilated distance. These 
 re agencies which must soon bo felt— nay, which are 
 Iready felt — in their tendency to abate national pre- 
 judices, and to substitute for national isolation a 
 usion and fraternization, never before regarded as 
 within the bounds of a reasonable probability. I have 
 already detained you too long to indulge in specula- 
 tions upon the ultimate effects of these two great 
 modem conquests of science and mechanism ; but 
 there can be no doubt, that to them we owe, as one 
 of their immediate consequences, the great assembly 
 which we have in view. Without the preparation 
 which they have silently effected in men's minds, and 
 the practical aid of one of them, it is unlikely that 
 the design would ever have been conceived, or that its 
 execution could have been rendered possible. 
 
 Thus, tlien, we are to have a congregation of people, 
 and nations, and tongues, drawn from regions of the 
 great globe more various and remote than any which 
 the page of history records. The sturdy children of 
 the North — the inhabitants of the sunny South — and 
 of those far Eastern climes, which seem to us so dim 
 and strange, may be expected there. And more, this 
 Western world, in its green youth — rescued, as it were, 
 but yesterday from the deep gloom and utter savage- 
 ness of the hoar wilderness— shall send its sons to 
 swell the mighty concourse. And why this mighty 
 congregation? is the dark soul of war and rapine 
 
 
 
22 
 
 there too ? Is it to deface God's fair creation with 
 more carnage— more crimsoned glory — or to compete 
 in mimic fights, and shew in fierce feats of strength, 
 and skill* and courage, how man may hest destroy his 
 fellow men? Ah! no; another soul is there. In 
 the design and purpose of that congregation there are 
 competition — and contest — and glory too — hut no 
 hlood; — the competition of intelligence— >the goof 
 tests of mind with matter — ^the glory of valiant 
 hearts which, amid poverty, and disease, and hope 
 deferred, and mayhap, contempt and scorn, in meek 
 and patient toil have wrought out for the henefaotion 
 of mankind their own imaginings. I say, that if this 
 great Industrial Exhibition excite the interest, and 
 meet the wide success which it deserves, it will 
 be a noble evidence of a lofty civilization, which no 
 time before has equalled, or approached ; an expres- 
 sion of the spirit of our age, which every living man» 
 who has not lived in vain, may hail widi honest pride. 
 There is a grandeur in the spectacle of this universal 
 and spontaneous contribution, selected from all that 
 in the lapse of centuries— upon the varied surface of 
 the ample earth — in cold or heat — in all modes of 
 social life, and all varieties of human circumstance, 
 have been elaborated from the teeming brain of man, 
 to be displayed, compared, and judged in friendly 
 rivalry. There is in it an earnest of moral progress 
 —of the growth of a right standard of the toie and 
 good — and of an upward spring in man^ best nature. 
 No event has ever occurred, which is so emphatic a 
 declaration to the world, of the spirit of peace. And 
 to those philanthropists, who have striven to enUst 
 mankind, in one great compact for its universal diffu- 
 
23 
 
 tion with 
 
 compete 
 
 strength, 
 
 wtroj his 
 
 lere. In 
 
 there are 
 
 -but no 
 
 the oon- 
 
 Taliant 
 
 and hope 
 
 in meek 
 
 mefaotion 
 
 lat if this 
 
 irest, and 
 
 it will 
 
 which no 
 
 in exptes- 
 
 Ting man, 
 
 lest pride. 
 
 uniTersal 
 
 1 all that 
 
 surface of 
 
 modes of 
 
 omstance, 
 
 n of man, 
 
 \ friendly 
 
 progress 
 
 true and 
 
 9t nature. 
 
 spbatic a 
 
 oe. And 
 
 to enlist 
 
 rsal diffu- 
 
 8ion— it must be a welcome harbinger. I know that 
 the views of these men have bten frowned upon as 
 visionary and impracticable, and tLe convictions from 
 which they spring called mawkish sentiment : but it 
 is no new thing in the upward progress of morality ; 
 for the conventional and the false to deal out words 
 of discouragement and contumely, upon the unwel- 
 come and the true. Yet likely as this is to happen, 
 it is no less certain, that the upright act, bom of the 
 pure emotions which have their dwelling in the soul's 
 deep sanctuary, is never lost; and now they have 
 an assurance that in their so-called visionary views 
 and mawkish sentiment, they are not alone. Let them 
 then take courage, and remember that with strong 
 and faithful effort the difficult is not the impossi- 
 ble^ and the remote soon ceases to be the unattain- 
 able. Who can lay, that this dove of peaces 
 which year after year has been sent forth, amid the 
 clouds and storms and raging ocean of men's passions, 
 and seen no place of rest, may not, ere long, behold a 
 subsidence of the dark waters ; and a broad mountain 
 top on which her weary foot may find repose ? 
 
 But I try your patience, »nd will add but little more. 
 I know not if I have made myself fully understood ; but 
 my design has been, to draw from these Industrial 
 Exhibitions, some two or three conclusions. The first 
 of these is, that t!ie productions of mechanical con- 
 trivance ought to be regarded by us with an interest 
 deeper than a mere passing curiosity— 'as a record of 
 civilization ; because they are a history of intelligent 
 labor, that is, of that discipline of men's faculties, 
 which itself is the essential element of civilization. By 
 
24f 
 
 the word labor, I do not intend the mere corporeal toil, 
 which the reformers of a certain sc\ o\ seem to consi- 
 der as alone entitled to regard ; nor do I mean en- 
 tirely to exclude it j for no form of cheerful diligence, 
 in the fulfilment of our mission here on earth, is with- 
 out its power and dignity.. A pervading earnestness 
 of spirit informs and elevates all conditions of human 
 exertion. But its noblest exhibition, is that which 
 tasks tbb energies of heart and brain ; and stirs with- 
 in us the impulses of a high intelligence, and some- 
 thing higher still — the moral sense which binds us to 
 another world. I would again insist upon this plain 
 and hacknied, but unheeded truth, that where this 
 spirit of labor is not, no gift of nature or of fortune 
 can avail. Genius can rear no monument vrithout its 
 aid. It is the condition, imposed by God himself, 
 upon the attainment of all excellence and happiness 
 by man. ... ■. 
 
 A second conclusion which I have endeavored to 
 enforce is, that these Exhibitions aro significant of a 
 civilization, high in degree, and different in principle, 
 from that which any other age has offered ; — their vital 
 principle is a spirit of peace. It is not that there is 
 to be no more war ; such a consummation is not yet 
 near, for slow and painful is the ascent of nations in 
 the scale of virtue. But the supremacy of that great 
 evil is abated. The sounding words and glittering 
 pomp, which have so long mislt^d the world, are be- 
 ginning to be unde -tood j and the thoughtful and 
 the just have learned, and are declaring, that war, and 
 its miscalled glory, art the offspring of those baser 
 instincts, which are nearest esrth, and most remote 
 
^ 
 
 from heaven. The lowest and worst point is turned, 
 and this tyrant power is yielding, heavily and sullenly, 
 hut visibly yielding, and let us hope forever, before 
 the vigor of a sound and healtl^ful tone of public sen- 
 timent. It is this increasing and fundamental change, 
 hy the substitution of the predominance of peace for 
 the supremacy of war, as an element in the construc- 
 tion of society, and as its presiding genius, which I 
 have endeavored to render the prouiijent feature of 
 this discourse, and would submit as a worthy subject 
 for your sober contemplation. Of such a change these 
 Exhibitions are a loud and unequivocal assertion. 
 The spirit which they breathe, is of a noble essence, 
 combined of patient industry — of high intelligence — 
 and of universal peace. May it be the growing and 
 pervading, and abiding spirit of our country and the 
 world I /* -^ 
 
 I desire to express my consciousness of the erratic 
 and. imperfect character of this address ; but if I 
 have aroused in any mind — a new or stronger sense 
 of the true uses and significance of life — or touched a 
 nerve of those best sensibilities, which vibrate in joy- 
 ful sympathy with the enlarged intelligence and moral 
 growth of man ; — if to any benevolent, but desponding 
 heart, I have afforded encouragement, that there are 
 ^days to come, of a riper morality — a more just appre- 
 ciation of the great and excellent glories of humanity 
 ; — I shall feel that my labor and your time have not 
 been spent in vain, and be consoled for merited cen- 
 sus o, at having so feebly dealt with a prolific and 
 exalted theme. 
 
 UM I MUUI 
 
^m 
 
 PBINTED MY BOLLO CAMPBBIiIi, MOHTBBAIm