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LECTURE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 WORKING MEN'S PARTY, 
 
 FIRST DELIVERED OCTOBER SIXTH, 
 
 BEFORE THE CHARLESTOWN LYCEUM, 
 
 AND 
 
 at tjjefr 3EUqueHt, 
 
 BY EDWARD EVERETT. 
 it 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GRAY AND BOWEN. 
 1830. 
 

 DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, SS. 
 
 District Clerk's Office. 
 
 Be it remembered, that on the twenty-ninth day of October. A. D. 
 
 1830, and in the fifty-fifth year of the Independence of the United 
 
 - of America, Gray & Bowen, of the said District, have deposited 
 
 in this orifice the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as 
 
 proprietors, in the words following, to wit : 
 
 ' A Lecture on the Working Men's Party, first delivered October 
 Gth, before the Charlestown Lyceum, and published at their request. 
 By Edward Everett. 1 
 
 In < ..lit'.. unit v to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled 
 ' An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of 
 Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, 
 <lurinL r lli" times therein mentioned.' And also to an Act, entitled 
 ' An Act. supplementary to an Act, entitled an Act for the encourage- 
 ment of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, 
 authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein 
 mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to (lie arts t <lesi<rnin>. 
 r, nwl etching historical and other prints.' 
 
 JNO. W. DAVIS, 
 Clerk of the District of Massachu 
 
 
LECTURE. 
 
 MAN is by nature an active being. He is made to labor. 
 His whole organization, mental and physical, is that of a 
 hard-working being. Of his mental powers we have no con- 
 ception, but as certain capacities of intellectual action. His 
 corporeal faculties are contrived for the same end, with aston- 
 ishing variety of adaptation. Who can look only at the mus- 
 cles of the hand, and doubt that man was made to work? 
 Who can be conscious of judgment, memory, and reflection, 
 and doubt that man was made to act? He requires rest, but 
 it is in prder to invigorate him for new efforts ; to recruit his 
 exhausted powers : and as if to show him, by the very nature 
 of rest, that it is Means, not End, that form of rest, which is 
 most essential and most grateful, sleep, is attended with the tem- 
 porary suspension of the conscious and active powers. Nature 
 is so ordered as both to require and encourage man to work. 
 He is created with wants, which cannot be satisfied without 
 labor; at the same time, that ample provision is made by 
 Providence, to satisfy them, with labor. The plant springs up 
 and grows on the spot, where the seed was cast by accident. 
 It is fed by the moisture, which saturates the earth or is held 
 suspended in the air ; and it brings with it a sufficient covering 
 to protect its delicate internal structure. It toils not, neither 
 doth it spin, for clothing or food. But man is so created, that, 
 let his wants be as simple as they will, he must labor to supply 
 them. If, as is siiDDpsed to have been the case in primitive 
 
 Ml SfW ;s 
 
ages, he lives upon acorns and water, he must draw the water 
 from the spring ; and in many places he must dig a well in the 
 soil ; and he must gather the acorns from beneath the oak, and 
 lay up a store of them for winter. He must, in most climates, 
 contrive himself some kind of clothing of barks or skins ; must 
 construct some rude shelter ; prepare some kind of bed, and 
 keep up a fire. In short, it is well known, that those tribes of 
 our race, which are the least advanced in civilization, and 
 whose wants are the fewest, have to labor the hardest for their 
 support ; but at the same time it is equally true, that in the 
 most civilized countries, by far the greatest amount and variety 
 of work are done ; so that the improvement, which takes place 
 in the condition of man, consists, not in diminishing the amount 
 of labor performed, but in enabling men to work more, or more 
 nth, in the same time. A horde of savages will pass a 
 week in the most laborious kinds of hunting ; following the 
 chase day alter day; their women, if in company with them, 
 their tents and their infant children on their backs ; 
 and all be worn down by fatigue and famine ; and in the end 
 .iaps kill a bullalo. The same number of civilized 
 men aw! women would probably, on an average, have kept 
 more steadily at work, in their various trades and occupations, 
 but with mueh less exhaustion, and the products of their indus- 
 try would have- been vastly greater ; or what is the same thing, 
 iwir-ii more work would have been done. 
 
 in improvement, he would be enabled 
 
 by li;^ irtt awl machinery, to satisfy the primary wants of life, 
 with less labor; and this may be thought to show, at first 
 glai,' ,iot intended to be a working being; be- 
 
 cau- ;: nces in improvement, less work 
 
 '! }> p'Cju'm-d to get a mere livelihood. But here we see 
 a curious provision of nature. In proportion as our bare natu- 
 ral wants are satisfied, artificial wants, or civilized wants, show 
 tin mselves. And in the very highest state of improvement, it 
 requires as constant an exertion to satisfy the new wants, which 
 grow out of the habits and tastes of civilized life, as rt requires 
 
in savage life, to satisfy hunger and thirst, and keep from 
 freezing. In other words, the innate desire of improving our 
 condition keeps us all in a state of want. We cannot be so 
 well off, that we do not feel obliged to work, either to ensure 
 the continuance of what we now have, or to increase it. The 
 man, whose honest industry just gives him a competence, ex- 
 erts himself, that he may have something against a rainy day ; 
 and how often do we not hear an affectionate father say, he is 
 determined to spare no pains, to work in season and out of 
 season, in order that his children may enjoy advantages de- 
 nied to himself. 
 
 In this way, it is pretty plain, that Man, whether viewed in 
 his primitive and savage state, or in a highly improved condition, 
 is a working being. It is his destiny, the law of his nature, 
 to labor. He is made for it, and he cannot live without it ; 
 and the Apostle Paul summed up the matter, with equal cor- 
 rectness and point, when he said, that " if any would not work, 
 neither should he eat." 
 
 It is a good test of principles like these, to bring them to the 
 standard of general approbation or disapprobation. There are, 
 in all countries, too many persons, who from mistaken ideas of 
 the nature of happiness, or other less reputable causes, pass 
 their time in idleness, or in indolent pleasures ; but I believe no 
 state of society ever existed, in which the energy and capacity 
 of labor were not commended and admired, or in which a taste 
 for indolent pleasure was commended or admired, by the intel- 
 ligent part of the community. When we read the lives of dis- 
 tinguished men, in any department, we find them almost always 
 celebrated, for the amount of labor they could perform. De- 
 mosthenes, Julius Caesar, Henry the Fourth of France, Lord 
 Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton, Franklin, Washington, Napoleon, 
 different as they were in their intellectual and moral qualities, 
 were all renowned as hard-workers. We read how many 
 days they could support the fatigues of a march ; how early 
 they rose, how late they watched ; how many hours thsy spent 
 in the field, in the cabinet, in the court ; how many secretaries 
 
they kept employed ; in short, how hurcl they worked. But 
 who ever heard of its being said of a man in commendation, 
 that he could sleep fifteen hours out of the twenty-four, that he 
 could eat six meals a day, and that he never got tired of his 
 easy-chair ? 
 
 It would he curious to estimate, by any sale standard, the 
 amount in value of the work of all kinds done in a community. 
 This, of course, cannot be done, with any great accuracy. 
 The pursuits of men are so various, and the different kinds of 
 labor performed are so different in the value of their products, 
 that it is scarcely possible to bring the aggregate to any scale 
 of calculation. If we would form a kind of general judgment 
 of the value of the labor of ;i community, we must look about 
 ii>. All the improvements, which we behold, on the face of 
 the earth ; all the h nil dings of every kind in town and country ; 
 all the vehicles employed on the land and water; the roads, 
 the canals, the wharlV, the bridges; all the property of all 
 kinds \\hich is accumulated throughout the world ; and all that 
 is consumed, from day to day and from hour to hour, to support 
 those who live upon it, all this i< the product of labor ; and a 
 proportionate share is the product of the labor of each genera- 
 tion. It is plain that this comprehensive view is one, that 
 would admit of beiuii carried out, into an infinity of details, 
 which would furnish the materials rather for a folio than a lec- 
 ture. Hut as it is the ta>te of the present day, to bring every 
 thin:: down lo the standard of liirnre^ I will HI^VM a calcula- 
 tion, which will enable us to judge of the value of the labor 
 <>rmed in the community, in which we live. Take the 
 lation of Massachusetts, for the sake of round numbers, at 
 600,000 souls. I presume it will not he thought extravagant to 
 me, that one in six performs every d;> i day's work, 
 
 equivalent. ||' we allow nothing for the labor of five out 
 of six, (ami this certainly will cover the cases of those too 
 ig and loo old to do any work, or who can do only a part 
 of a clay's work,) and if we also allow nothing for those whose 
 time is worth more than thnt of the day-laborer, we may safely 
 
assume, that the sixth person performs daily a vigorous efficient 
 day's work of body or mind, by hand or with tools, or partly 
 with each, and that this day's work is worth one dollar. This 
 will give us one hundred thousand dollars a day, as the value 
 of the work done in the State of Massachusetts. I have no 
 doubt that it is a good deal more, for this would be very little 
 more, than it costs the population to support itself, and allows 
 scarce any thing for accumulation, a good deal of which is 
 constantly taking place. It will, however, show sufficiently the 
 great amount of the labor done in this State, to take it as com- 
 ing up, at least, to one hundred thousand dollars per day. 
 
 I have thus far laid down two propositions : 
 
 First, that man is, by his nature, a working being ; and 
 second, that the daily value of his work, estimated merely in 
 money, is immensely great, in any civilized community. 
 
 I have made these preliminary remarks, as an introduction to 
 some observations, which I propose to submit in the remainder 
 of this lecture, on the subject of " a working men's party." 
 Towards the organization of such a party, steps have been 
 taken in various parts of the country. It is probable, that a 
 great diversity of views exists, among those who have occupied 
 themselves upon the subject, in different places. This circum- 
 stance, and the novelty of the subject in some of its aspects, 
 and its importance in all, have led me to think, that we might 
 pass an hour profitably, in its contemplation. 
 
 I will observe upon it, in the first place, then, that if, as I 
 have endeavored to show, man is by nature a working being, 
 it would follow, that a working men's party is founded, in the 
 very principles of our nature. Most parties may be considered 
 as artificial in their very essence ; many are local, temporary, 
 and personal. What will the Adams, or the Jackson, or the 
 Clay party be, a hundred years hence ? What are they now, 
 in nine-tenths of the habitable globe ? Mere non-entities. 
 But the working men's party, however organized, is one that 
 must subsist, in every civilized country to the end of time. In 
 other words, its first principles are laid in our natures. 
 
It secondly follows, from what I have remarked above, that 
 the working men's party concerns a vast amount of property, 
 in which almost every man is interested ; and in this respect it 
 differs from all controversies and parties, which end merely in 
 speculation, or which end in the personal advancement and 
 gratification of a few individuals. 
 
 The next question, that presents itself, is, what is the gene- 
 ral object of a working men's party ? I do not now mean, what 
 are the immediate steps, which such a party proposes to take ; 
 but what is the main object and end, which it would secure. To 
 this I suppose I may safely answer, that it is not to carry this or 
 that political election ; not to elevate this or that candidate for 
 office, but to promote the prosperity and welfare of working 
 men ; that is, to secure to every man disposed to work, the 
 greatest freedom in the choice of his pursuit, the greatest en- 
 couragement 'and aid in pursuing it, the greatest security in 
 enjoying its fruits : in other words to make work, in the 
 greatest possible degree, produce happiness. 
 
 The next inquiry seems to be, who belong to the working 
 men's party ? The general answer here is obvious, nil who do 
 the work; or are actually willing and desirous to do it, and 
 prevented only by absolute inahilitv, such as sickness or natural 
 infirmity. Let us try the correctness of this view, by seeing, 
 uhoni it would exclude and whom it would include. 
 
 This rule, in the first place, would exclude all bad men; 
 
 that is, those, who may work indeed, but who work for im- 
 
 ;1 and unlawful ends. This is a very important distinction, 
 
 and, if practically applied and vigorously enforced, it would 
 
 make the working men's party the purest society, that ever 
 
 led since the time of the primitive christians. It is grcaily 
 
 to be feared, that scarce any of tl: , that divide the 
 
 nliiriently jealous on this point; and for the 
 
 natural reason, that it does not lie in the very nature of the 
 
 parties. Thus, at the polls, the vote of one man is as good as 
 
 the vote of another. The vote of the drunkard counts one ; 
 
 the vote of the temperate man counts but one. For this rea- 
 
son, the mere party politician, if he can secure the vote, is 
 apt not to be very inquisitive about the temperance of the 
 voter. He may even prefer the intemperate to the temperate ; 
 for to persuade the temperate man to vote with him, he must 
 give him a good reason ; the other will do it for a good drink. 
 
 But the true principles of the working men's party require, 
 not merely that a man should work, but that he should work 
 in an honest way and for a lawful object. The man, who 
 makes counterfeit money, probably works harder than the 
 honest engraver, who prepares the bills, for those authorized 
 by law to issue them. But he would be repelled with scorn, 
 if he presented himself as a member of the working men's 
 party. The thief, who passes his life and gains a wretched 
 precarious subsistence, by midnight trespasses on his neigh- 
 bour's grounds ; by stealing horses from the stall, and wood 
 from the pile ; by wrenching bars and bolts at night, or picking 
 pockets in a crowd, probably works harder, (taking uncertainty 
 and anxiety into the calculation, and adding, as the usual con- 
 sequence, four or five years in the compulsory service of the 
 State,) than the average of men pursuing honest industry, even 
 of the most laborious kind : but this hard work would not en- 
 title him to be regarded as a member of the working men's 
 party. 
 
 If it be inquired, who is to be the judge, what kind of work 
 is not only no title, but an absolute disqualification for admis- 
 sion to the working men's party, on the score of dishonesty, 
 we answer, that for all practical purposes, this must be left to 
 the law of the land. It is true, that under cover and within 
 the pale of the law, a man may do things morally dishonest, 
 and such as ought to shut him out of the party. But expe- 
 rience has shown, that it is dangerous to institute an inquisition 
 into the motives of individuals ; and so long as a man does 
 nothing, which the law forbids, in a country where the peo- 
 ple make the laws, he ought, if not otherwise disqualified, to 
 be admitted as a member of the party. 
 
 There ought, however, perhaps to be two exceptions to this 
 2 
 
10 
 
 principle ; one, the case of those, who pursue habitually a 
 course of life, which, though contrary to law, is not usually 
 punished by the law, such as persons habitually intemperate. 
 It is plain, that these men ought not to be allowed to act with 
 the party, because they would always be liable, by a very slight 
 temptation, to be made to act in a manner hostile to its in- 
 terests ; and because they are habitually in a state of inca- 
 pacity to do any intelligent and rational act. 
 
 The other exception ought to be of men, who take advan- 
 tage of the law to subserve their own selfish and malignant 
 passions. This is done in various ways, but I will allude to 
 but one. The law puts it in the power of the creditor, not 
 merely to seize the property of the debtor, in payment of the 
 debt ; but to consider every case of inability as a case of 
 fraudulent concealment, and to punish it as such, by imprison- 
 ment. This is often done in a way to inflict the greatest pos- 
 sible pain ; and in cases, in which not only no advantage but 
 additional cost accrues to the creditor. A man who thus takes 
 the advantage of the law, to wreak upon others his malignant 
 passions, ought to be excluded, not merely from the working 
 men's part\, but from the pale of civilized society. 
 
 :ie\t question regards idlers. If we exclude from the 
 \\orking IIMMI'S party all dishonest and immoral workers, what 
 are . ;<> the case of the idlers? In general terms, the 
 
 ansu ijiirsiinn i< plain, they too must be excluded. 
 
 With what HP f reason can an idler ask to be admitted 
 
 into the MI of working r,;en, unless h;- is \\illing to 
 
 qualifv himflelf bj n'oing to work, and then I:. to he an 
 
 idler. In fact, tin away his time, aets against 
 
 the la\\ of his nature, as a working being. It must be ob- 
 (1, however, thru there are feu eases, where u man i.-> 
 merely nn idler. In almost every en .-,-, hr must 1 'lin.i; 
 
 t, <ueh as a spendthrift, a gamester, or an intemperate 
 person ; a bad son, a had husband, and a bad father. If there 
 are any persons dependent ou him for support; if he idles away 
 the time, which he ought to devote to maintaining his wife, or his 
 
11 
 
 children, or his aged parents, he then becomes a robber ; a man 
 that steals the bread out of the mouths of his own family, and 
 the clothes off their backs; and he is as much more criminal, 
 than the common highway robber, who takes the stranger's 
 purse on the turnpike, as the ties of duty to our parents and 
 children, are beyond those of common justice between man and 
 man. But I suppose it would not require much argument to 
 show, that the person, who leaves to want those whom he ought 
 to support, even if he does not pass his idle hours in any crimi- 
 nal pursuit, has no right to call himself a working man. 
 
 There is a third class of men, whose case deserves consid- 
 eration, and who are commonly called busy-bodies. They are 
 as different from real working men, as light is from darkness. 
 They cannot be called idlers, for they are never at rest ; nor 
 yet workers, for they pursue no honest creditable employment. 
 So long as they are merely busy-bodies, and are prompted 
 in their officious, fluttering, unproductive activity, by no bad 
 motive and no malignant passion, they cannot, perhaps, be ex- 
 cluded from the party, though they have really no claim to be 
 admitted into it. But here, too, the case of a mere busy-body 
 scarce ever occurs. This character is almost always something 
 more ; a dangerous gossip, a tattling mischief-maker, a propa- 
 gator, too frequently an inventor, of slander. He repeats at 
 one fireside, with additions, what he heard at another, under 
 the implied obligation of confidence ; he is commonly in the 
 front rank of all uneasy and inconsiderate movements, safely 
 entrenched behind his neighbor, whom he pushes into trouble ; 
 and he is very fond of writing anonymous libels in the newspa- 
 pers, on men of whom he knows nothing. Such men, and 
 there are too many of them, ought to be excluded from the party. 
 
 Shutting out then, all who work dishonestly, and all who do 
 not work at all, and admitting the busy-bodies with great cau- 
 tion, the working men's party comprehends all those, by whom 
 the work of the community is really done ; all those who, by 
 any kind of honest industry, employ the talent, which their 
 Creator has given them. All these form one great party, one 
 
12 
 
 comprehensive society, and this by the very law of our nature. 
 Man is not only, as I observed in the beginning, a working 
 being ; but he is a being formed to work in society ; and if the 
 matter be carefully analysed, it will be found, that civilization, 
 that is, the bringing men out of a savage into a cultivated state, 
 consists in multiplying the number of pursuits and occupa- 
 tions : so that the most perfect society is one, where the largest 
 number of persons are prosperously employed, in the greatest 
 variety of ways. In such a society, men help each other, in- 
 stead of standing in each other's way. The farther this division 
 of labor is carried, the more persons must unite harmoniously, 
 to effect the common ends. The larger the number, on which 
 each depends, the larger the number to which each is useful. 
 
 This union of different kinds of workmen in one harmonious 
 society seems to be laid, in the very structure and organization 
 of man. Man is a being, consisting of a body and a soul. 
 These words are soon uttered, and they are so ojten uttered, 
 that the mighty truth, which is embraced in them, scarce ever 
 engages our attention. But man is composed of body and 
 soul. What is body ? It is material substance ; it is clay, 
 dust, ashes. Look at it, as you tread it unorganized beneath 
 your feet ; contemplate it, when, after having been organized 
 and animated, it is, by a process of corruption, returning; to its 
 original Mate. Matter, in its appearances to us, is an unorgan- 
 ized, inanimate, cold, dull, and barren thin::. What it is in its 
 essence, no one but the Being who created it knows. The 
 human mind can conrrive of it only as the absolute negation 
 of qualities. And \\e say, that the body of man is formed of 
 the clay or du>t ; beeausu these substances seem to us to 
 make tin- nearc-i approach to the total privation of all the 
 properties of intelle.rt. Surh is the body of man. What is his 
 soult Its essence is as little known to us as that of body; 
 but its qualities are angelic, divine. It is soul, which thinks, 
 reasons, invents, remembers, hopes, and loves. It is the soul 
 which lives ; for when the soul departs from the body, all its 
 vital powers cease ; and it is dead ; and what is the body 
 then? 
 
13 
 
 Now the fact, to which I wish to call your attention, is, that 
 these two elements, one of which is akin to the poorest dust 
 on which we tread, and the other of which is of the nature of 
 angelic and even of divine intelligence, are, in every human 
 being, without exception, brought into a most intimate and 
 perfect union. We can conceive, that it might have been dif- 
 ferent. God could have created matter by itself and mind by 
 itself. We believe in the existence of incorporeal beings of a 
 nature higher than man ; and we behold beneath us in brutes, 
 plants, and stones, various orders of material nature, rising, one 
 above another, in organization ; but none of them (as we sup- 
 pose) possessing mind. We can imagine a world so consti- 
 tuted, that all the intellect would have been by itself, pure and 
 disembodied ; and all the material substance by itself unmixed 
 with mind ; and acted upon by mind, as inferior beings are 
 supposed to be acted upon by angels. But in constituting our 
 race, it pleased the Creator to bring the two elements into the 
 closest union ; to take the body from the dust ; the soul from 
 the highest heaven ; and mould them into one. 
 
 The consequence is, that the humblest laborer, who works 
 with his hands, possesses within him a soul, endowed with pre- 
 cisely the same faculties, as those which in Franklin, in New- 
 ton, or Shakspeare, have been the light and the wonder of the 
 world ; and on the other hand, the most gifted and etherial 
 genius, whose mind has fathomed the depths of the heavens 
 and comprehended the whole circle of truth, is enclosed in a 
 body, subject to the same passions, infirmities, and wants, as 
 the man whose life knows no alternation but labor and rest, ap- 
 petite and indulgence. 
 
 Did it stop here, it would be merely an astonishing fact in 
 the constitution of our natures ; but it does not stop here. In 
 consequence of the union of the two principles in the human 
 frame, every act, that a man performs, requires the agency 
 both of body and mind. His mind cannot see, but thrqugh the 
 optic eye-glass ; nor hear till the drum of his ear is affected by 
 the vibrations of the air. If he would speak, he puts in action 
 
14 
 
 the complex machinery of the vocal organs; if he writes he 
 employs the muscular system of the hands ; nor can he even 
 perform the operations of pure thought, except in a healthy 
 state of the body. A fit of the tooth-ache, proceeding from 
 the irritation of a nerve, about as big as a cambric-thread, is 
 enough to drive an understanding, capable of instructing the 
 world, to the verge of insanity. On the other hand, there is 
 no operation of manual labor so simple, so mechanical, which 
 does not require the exercise of perception, reflection, memo- 
 ry, and judgment ; the same intellectual powers, by which the 
 highest truths of science have been discovered and illustrated. 
 
 The degree to which any particular action, (or series of ac- 
 tions united into a pursuit) shall exercise the intellectual pow- 
 ers, on the one hand, or the mechanical powers on the other, 
 of course, depends on the nature of that action. The slave 
 whose life from childhood to the grave is passed in the field ; 
 the New Zealander who goes to war, when he is hungry, de- 
 vours his prisoners, and leads a life of cannibal debauch till he 
 has consumed them all, and then goes to war again ; the 
 Greenlander, who warms himself with the fragments of wrecks 
 and drift-wood thrown upon the glaciers, and feeds himself with 
 blubber ; seem all, to lead lives, requiring but little intellectual 
 action ; and yet, as I have remarked, a careful reflection would 
 show that there is not one, even of them, who does not, every 
 moment of his lifo, call into exercise, though in an humble de- 
 gree, all the powers of the mind. In like manner, the philoso- 
 pher who shuts himself up in his cell and leads a contemplative 
 existence, among books or instruments of science, seems to 
 have no occasion to employ, in their ordinary exercise, many 
 of the rnparitics of his nature for physical action ; although 
 h- :ils'>, ns I hnvr observed, cannot act or even think, but with 
 tin- nid of his body. 
 
 This is unquestionably true. The same Creator who made 
 man a mixed being, composed of body and soul ; having de- 
 signed him for such a world as that in which we live ; has so 
 constituted the world and man who inhabits it, as to afford 
 
15 
 
 scope for great variety of occupations, pursuits, and conditions, 
 arising from the tastes, characters, habits, virtues and even vices 
 of men and communities. For the same reason, that though 
 all men are alike composed of body and soul, yet no two men 
 probably are exactly the same in respect to either ; so provi- 
 sion has been made, by the author of our being, for an infinity 
 of pursuits and employments, calling out, in degrees as various, 
 the peculiar powers of both principles. 
 
 But I have already endeavored to show, that there is no pur- 
 suit and no action that does not require the united operation of 
 both ; and this of itself is a broad natural foundation for the 
 union into one interest of all, in the same community, who are 
 employed in honest work of any kind ; viz. that, however va- 
 rious their occupations, they are all working with the same in- 
 struments ; the organs of the body and the powers of the mind. 
 
 But we may go a step farther, to remark the beautiful pro- 
 cess, by which Providence has so interlaced and wrought up to- 
 gether the pursuits, interests, and wants of our nature, that the 
 philosopher, whose home seems less on earth than among the 
 stars, requires for the prosecution of his studies the aid of 
 numerous artificers in various branches of mechanical industry ; 
 and in return, furnishes the most important facilities to the 
 humblest branches of manual labor. Let us take as a sin- 
 gle instance, that of astronomical science. It may be safely 
 said, that the wonderful discoveries of modern astronomy and 
 the philosophical system depending upon them, could not have 
 existed, but for the telescope. The want of the telescope kept 
 astronomical science in its infancy among the ancients. Al- 
 though Pythagoras, one of the earliest Greek philosophers, by 
 a fortunate exercise of sagacity, conceived the elements of the 
 Copernican system, yet we find no general and practical im- 
 provement resulting from it. It was only from the period of 
 the discoveries, made by the telescope, that the science ad- 
 vanced, with sure and rapid progress. Now the astronomer does 
 not make telescopes. I presume it would be impossible for a 
 person, who employed in the abstract study of astronomical 
 
16 
 
 science time enough to comprehend its profound investiga- 
 tions, to learn and practise the trade of making glass. It is 
 mentioned, as a remarkable versatility of talent in one or two 
 eminent observers, that they have superintended the cutting and 
 polishing of the glasses of their own telescopes. But I pre- 
 sume if there never had been a telescope, till some, scientific 
 astronomer had learned to mix, melt, and mould glass, such a 
 thing would never have been heard of. It is not less true, that 
 those employed in making the glass could not, in the nature of 
 things, be expected to acquire the scientific knowledge, requi- 
 site for carrying on those arduous calculations, applied to bring 
 into a system, the discoveries made by the magnifying power 
 of the telescope. I might extend the same remark to the other 
 materials, of which a telescope consists. It cannot be used to 
 any purpose of nice observation, without being very carefully 
 mounted, on a frame of strong metal ; which demands the 
 united labors of the mathematical instrument-maker, and the 
 brass-founder. Here then, in taking but one single step out 
 of the philosopher's observatory, we find he needs an instru- 
 ment, to be produced by the united labors of the mathematical 
 instrument-maker ; the brass-founder ; the glass-polisher ; a::d 
 .Maker of glass, four trades. * He must also have an astro- 
 nomical clock, and it would be easy to count up half a dozen 
 trades, which directlv or indirectly are connected in making a 
 lock. But let us iro bark to the olijcct glass of the telescope. 
 A glass factory requires a building and furnaces. The man 
 who makes the glass, does not make the building. But the 
 stone and brick ma-on. the carpenter, and the blacksmith must 
 furnish th- greater part of the labor and skill, required to con- 
 struct the building. When it is built, a large quantity of fuel, 
 wood and wood-coal, or mineral coal of various kinds, or all 
 together mu'-t be jnoviderl; and thru the materials of which 
 the glass is made and with which it is colored, some of which 
 are furnished by commerce from different and distant regions, 
 
 * The allusion is here to the simplest form of a telescope. The illustra- 
 tion would be stronger in the case of a reflector. 
 
17 
 
 and must be brought in ships across the sea. We cannot take 
 up any one of these trades, without immediately finding that it 
 connects itself with numerous others. Take for instance, the 
 mason who builds the furnace. He does not make his own 
 bricks, nor burn his own lime ; in common cases, the .bricks 
 come from one place, the lime from another, the sand from 
 another. The brick-maker does not cut down his own wood. 
 It is carted or brought in boats to his yard. The man, who 
 carts it does not make his own wagon ; nor does the person 
 who brings it in boats, build his own boat. The man, who 
 makes the wagon, does not make its tire. The blacksmith, 
 who makes the tire, does not smelt the ore ; and the forgeman 
 who smelts the ore, does not build his own furnace, (and there 
 we get back to the point whence we started,) nor dig his own 
 mine. The man who digs the mine, does not make the pick- 
 axe with which he digs it ; nor the pump with which he 
 keeps out the water. The man who makes the pump, did not 
 discover the principle of atmospheric pressure, which led to 
 purnp-making : that was done by a mathematician at Florence, 
 experimenting in his chamber, on a glass tube. And here we 
 come back again to our glass ; and to an instance of the close 
 connexion of scientific research with practical art. It is plain, 
 that this enumeration might be pursued till every art and 
 every science were shown to run into every other. No one can 
 doubt this, who will go over the subject in his own mind, be- 
 ginning with any one of the processes of mining and working 
 metals, of ship-building, and navigation, and the other branches 
 of art and industry, pursued in civilized communities. 
 
 If then, on the one hand, the astronomer depends for his 
 telescope on the ultimate product of so many arts ; in return, 
 his observations are the basis of an astronomical system and of 
 calculations of the movements of the heavenly bodies, which 
 furnish the mariner with his best guide across the ocean. The 
 prudent ship-master would no more think of sailing for India, 
 without his Bowditch's Practical Navigator, than he would 
 without his compass ; and this Navigator contains tables, drawn 
 3 
 
18 
 
 from the highest walks of astronomical science. Every first 
 mate of a vessel, who works a lunar observation, to ascertain 
 the ship's longitude, employs tables, in which the most won- 
 derful discoveries and calculations of La Place and Newton, 
 and Bowditch are interwoven. 
 
 I mention this as but one of the cases, in which astronomical 
 science promotes the service and convenience of common life; 
 and perhaps, when we consider the degree, to which the 
 modern extension of navigation connects itself with industry in 
 all its branches, this may be thought sufficient. I will only 
 add, that the cheap convenience of an almanac, which enters 
 into the comforts of every fireside in the country, could not be 
 enjoyed, but for the labors and studies of the profoundest 
 philosophers. Not that great learning or talent is now requir- 
 ed to execute the astronomical calculations of an almanac, 
 although no inconsiderable share of each is needed for this 
 purpose ; but because, even to perform these calculations re- 
 quires the aid of tables, which have been gradually formed on 
 the basis of the profoundest investigations of the long line of 
 philosophers, who have devoted themselves to this branch of 
 science. For, as we observed on the mechanical side of the 
 illustration, it was not one trade alone, which was required to 
 furnish the philosopher with his instrument, but a great varie- 
 ty ; so, on the other hand, it is not the philosopher in one 
 department, who creates a science out of nothing. The ob- 
 servi: :iomer furnHies man-rials to the calculating as- 
 
 tronomer, and iho calculator derives methods from the purr 
 mathematician ; and a long succession of each for ages mu>t 
 unite their labors, in a irreat result. Without the geometry of 
 the Greeks, and tin: algebra of the Arabs, the infinitesimal 
 analysis of Newton and Leibniiy, would never have been in- 
 vented. 
 
 Examples and illustrations equally instructive niiirht b(j 
 found in every other branch of industry. The man, who 
 will go into a cotton-mill, and contemplate it from the great 
 water-wheel, that gives the first movement, (and still more 
 
19 
 
 from the steam engine, should that be the moving power,) 
 who will observe the parts of the machinery, and the various 
 processes of the fabric, till he reaches the hydrostatic press, with 
 which it is made into a bale, and the canal or rail-road by 
 which it is sent to market, may find every branch of trade and 
 every department of science literally crossed, intertwined, in- 
 terwoven with every other, like the woof and the warp of the 
 article manufactured. Not a little of the spinning machinery 
 is constructed on principles, drawn from the demonstrations of 
 transcendental mathematics; and the processes of bleaching 
 and dying, now practised, are the results of the most profound 
 researches of modern chemistry. And if this does not satisfy 
 the inquirer, let him trace the cotton to the plantation, where it 
 grew, in Georgia or Alabama ; the indigo to Bengal ; the oil to 
 the olive-gardens of Italy, or the fishing grounds of the Pacific 
 Ocean ; let him consider Whitney's cotton-gin ; Whittemore's 
 carding-machine ; the power-loom ; and the spinning appara- 
 tus ; and all the arts, trades, and sciences, directly or indirectly 
 connected with these ; and I believe he will soon agree, that 
 one might start from a yard of coarse printed cotton, which 
 costs ten cents, and prove out of it, as out of a text, that every 
 art and science under heaven had been concerned in its fabric. 
 I ought here to allude also, to some of those pursuits, which 
 require the ability to exercise, at the same time, on the part of 
 the same individual the faculties both of the intellectual and 
 physical nature, or which unite very high and low degrees of 
 mental power. I have no doubt, that the talent for drawing 
 and painting, possessed by some men to such an admirable de- 
 gree, depends partly on a peculiar organic structure of the eye, 
 and of the muscles of the hand, which gives them their more 
 delicate perceptions of color and their greater skill in delinea- 
 tion. These no doubt are possessed by many individuals, 
 who want the intellectual talent, the poetic fire, required for 
 a great painter. On the other hand, I can conceive of a man's 
 possessing the invention and imagination of a painter, without 
 the eye and the hand required to embody on the canvass the 
 
20 , 
 
 ideas and images in his mind. When the two unite, they make 
 a Raphael or a Titian ; a Martin or an Allston. An accom- 
 plished statuary, such as Canova or Chantrey, must, on the 
 one hand, possess a soul filled with all grand and lovely images, 
 and have a Jiving conception of ideal beauty ; and on the other 
 hand, he must be a good stone-cutter, and able to take a ham- 
 mer and a chisel in his hand, and go to work on a block of mar- 
 ble, and chip it down to the lip of Apollo or the eye-lid of 
 Venus. The architect must be practically acquainted with all 
 the materials of building, wood, brick, mortar, and stone ; he 
 must have the courage and skill to plant his moles against the 
 heaving ocean, and to hang his ponderous domes and gigantic 
 arches in the air ; while he must have taste to combine the 
 rough and scattered blocks of the quarry into beautiful and 
 majestic structures ; and discern clearly in his mind's eye, be- 
 fore a sledge-hammer has been lifted, the elevation and pro- 
 portions of the temple. The poet must know, with a school- 
 master's precision, the weight of every word, and what vowel 
 follows most smoothly, on what consonant ; at the same time, 
 that his soul must be stored with images, feelings, and thoughts, 
 beyond the power of the boldest and most glowing language, to 
 do more than faintly shadow out. The surgeon must, at once, 
 have a mind naturally gifted and diligently trained, to pene- 
 trate the dark recessess of organic life; and a nerve and tact, 
 which will enable him to piidc his knife among veins and arte- 
 ries, out of sight, in the living body of an agonizing, shrieking 
 fellow creature, or to take a lancet in his left hand, and cut 
 into the apple of the eye. The lawyer must be able to reason 
 from the noblest principles of human duty and the* most gene- 
 rous feelings of human nature ; he must fully comprehend the 
 mighty maze of the social relations ; he must carry about with 
 him a stock of learning almost boundless ; he must be a sort 
 of god to men and communities, who look up to him, in the 
 hour of the dearest peril of their lives and fortunes ; and he 
 must at the same time be conversant with a tissue of the most 
 senseless fictions and arbitrary technology, that ever disgraced 
 
21 
 
 a liberal science. The merchant must be able to look at the 
 same moment, at the markets and exchanges of distant coun- 
 tries and other hemispheres, and combine considerations of the 
 political condition, the natural wants, the tastes and habits of 
 different parts of the world ; and he must be expert at figures, 
 understand book-keeping by double entry, and know as 
 well how to take care of a quarter chest of tea as a cargo of 
 specie. The general-in-chief must be capable of calculating 
 for a twelvemonth in advance the result of a contest, in which 
 all the power, resource, and spirit of two great empires enter 
 and struggle, on land and by sea ; and he must have an eye, 
 that can tell at a glance, and on the responsibility of his life, 
 how the stone walls, and trenched meadows, the barns, and the 
 woods, and the cross-roads of a neighborhood, will favor or re- 
 sist the motions of a hundred thousand men, scattered over a 
 space of five miles, in the fury of the advance, the storm of 
 battle, the agony of flight, covered with smoke, dust, and 
 blood.* 
 
 It was my intention to subject the art of printing to an analy- 
 sis of the trades, arts and sciences connected with it; but 1 
 have not time to do it full justice, and the bare general idea 
 need not be repeated. I will only say that, beginning with the 
 invention, which bears in popular tradition the name of Cad- 
 mus, I mean the invention of alphabetical signs to express 
 sounds, and proceeding to the discovery of convenient mate- 
 rials for writing, and the idea of written discourse ; thence to 
 the preparation of manuscript books ; and thence to the fabric, 
 on a large scale, of linen and cotton paper, the invention of 
 moveable types, and the printing press, the art of engrav- 
 ing on metal, of stereotype printing, and of the power press, 
 we have a series of discoveries, branching out into others in 
 every department of human pursuit ; connecting the highest 
 philosophical principles with the results of mere manual labor, 
 and producing in the end, that system of diffusing and multi- 
 
 * This paragraph is taken, with some alterations, from an Essay published 
 by the author some years ago in a Periodical Journal. 
 
22 
 
 plying the expression of thought, which is, perhaps, the glory 
 of our human nature. Pliny said, that the Egyptian reed was 
 the support, on which the immortal fame of man rested. 
 He referred to its use, in the manufacture of paper. We may 
 with greater justice say as much of the manufacture of paper 
 from rags, and of the printing press, neither of which was 
 known to Pliny. But with all the splendor of modern dis- 
 coveries and improvements in science and art, I cannot but think 
 that he, who in the morning of the world, first conceived the 
 idea of representing sounds, by visible signs, took the most 
 important step, in the march of improvement. This sublime 
 conception was struck out in the infancy of mankind. The 
 name of its author, his native country, and the time when he 
 lived, are known only, by very uncertain tradition ; but though 
 all the intelligence of ancient and modern times, and in the 
 most improved countries, has been concentered into a focus, 
 burning and blazing upon this one spot, it has never been able 
 to reduce it to any simpler elements, nor to improve, in the 
 slightest degree, upon the original suggestion of Cadmus. 
 
 In what, I have thus far submitted to you, you will probably 
 have remarked, that I have illustrated chiefly the connexion 
 with each oilier of the various branches of science and art; of 
 the intellectual and physical principles. I have not distinctly 
 shown the connexion of the moral principle, in all its great 
 hranehes, with hoili. Tliis subject would well form the matter 
 of a v,.p;irate i ay. Bui its elementary ideas are few and 
 plain. Tin- arts and sciences, whose connexion we have pointed 
 out, it is plain, require for their cultivation a civilized state of 
 society. They cannot thrive in a community, which is not 
 in a state of regular political organization, under an orderly 
 .eminent, uniform administration of Jaws, and a 
 general observance of the dictates of public and social morality. 
 Farther, Mich a community cannot CMM, without institutions of 
 various kinds for elementary, professional, and moral educa- 
 tion ; and connected with these, are required the services of a 
 large class of individuals, employed in various ways, in the 
 
23 
 
 business of instruction ; from the meritorious schoolmaster, 
 who teaches the little child its A, B, C, to the moralist, who 
 lays down the great principles of social duty for men and na- 
 tions, and the minister of divine truth, who inculcates those 
 sanctions, by which God himself enforces the laws of reason. 
 There must also be a class of men competent by their ability, 
 education, and experience to engage in the duty of making and 
 administering the law, for in a lawless society it is impossible 
 that any improvement should be permanent. There must be 
 another class competent to afford relief to the sick, and thus 
 protect our frail natures, from the power of the numerous foes 
 that assail them. 
 
 It needs no words to show, that all these pursuits are in 
 reality connected with the ordinary work of society, as directly 
 as the mechanical trades, by which it is carried on. For in- 
 stance, nothing would so seriously impair the prosperity of a 
 community, as an unsound and uncertain administration of jus- 
 tice. This is the last and most fatal symptom of decline in a 
 state. A community can bear a very considerable degree of 
 political despotism, if justice is duly administered between man 
 and man. But where a man has no security, that the law will 
 protect him in the enjoyment of his property ; where he cannot 
 promise himself a righteous judgment in the event of a contro- 
 versy with his neighbor ; where he is not sure when he lays 
 down at night that his slumbers are safe, there he loses the 
 great motives to industry and probity ; credit is shaken ; en- 
 terprize disheartened, and the State declines. The profession, 
 therefore, which is devoted to the administration of justice, 
 renders a service to every citizen of the community, as impor- 
 tant as to those whose immediate affairs require the aid of 
 counsel. 
 
 In a very improved and civilized community, there are also 
 numerous individuals, who, without being employed in any of 
 the common branches of industry or of professional pursuit, 
 connect themselves, nevertheless, with the prosperity and hap- 
 piness of the public, and fill a useful and honorable place in its 
 
24 
 
 service. Take for instance, a man like Sir Walter Scott, who 
 probably never did a day's work, in his life, in the ordinary- 
 acceptation of the term, and who has for some years retired 
 from the subordinate station he filled in the profession of the 
 law, as sheriff of the county and clerk of the Court. He has 
 written and published at least two hundred volumes of wide 
 circulation. What a vast amount of the industry of the com- 
 munity is thereby put in motion ! The booksellers, printers, 
 paper-makers, press-makers, type-makers, book-binders, leath- 
 er-dressers, ink-makers, and various other artisans required 
 to print, publish, and circulate the hundreds and thousands of 
 volumes, of the different works, which he has written, must be 
 almost numberless. I have not the least doubt, that, since the 
 series of his publications began, if all whose industry, directly 
 or remotely, has been concerned in them, not only in Great 
 Britain, but in America, and on the Continent of Europe, 
 could be brought together and stationed side by side, as the 
 inhabitants of the same place, they would form a very conside- 
 rahlr- tmrn. Such a person may fairly be ranked as a working 
 man. 
 
 And yet 1 t;ike this to bo the least of Sir Walter Scott's de- 
 *erts. I have <\\\{\ nothing; of the service rendered to every 
 - and to every individual in every class, by the writer, who 
 beguiles of their tedioiMie*s the dull hours of life.; who ani- 
 mates the principle of goodness within us, by glowing pictures 
 of struggling virtue; who furnishes our young men Arid wo- 
 men with Uu:k-, which they may rend with interest, and not 
 their mornls poisoned :is they rend thorn. Our habits, 
 our prineiph-N, our elinneiers, whatever may be our pursuit 
 in life, depend very ni'irh on the nnture of our youthful 
 pleasures, and on the modi 1 in which we lenrn to pass our lei- 
 sure hoar . ho. with the blessing of Providence, has 
 been ;ille by hi- inentid etinrt-. to present virtue in her 
 . mid vice in her native deformity, to the ris- 
 ing generation, lias rendered a service to the public, greater 
 even than his, who invented the steam engine, or the mariner's 
 compass. 
 
\ have thus endeavored lo .show, in a plain manner, that 
 there is a dose and cordial union between the various pursuits 
 and occupations, which receive the attention of men in a civil- 
 ised comnumitv : That they are links of the same chain, 
 every one of which is essential to its strength. 
 
 It will follow, as a necessary consequence ; as the dictate of 
 reason and as the law of nature ; that every man in society, 
 whatever his pursuit, who devotes himself to it, with an honest 
 purpose, and in the fulfilment of the social duty which Provi- 
 dence devolves upon him, is entitled to the good fellowship of 
 each and every other member of the community. That all 
 are the parts of one whole ; and that between those parts, as 
 there is but one interest, so there should be but one feeling. 
 
 Before 1 close this lecture, permit me to dwell for a short 
 time on the principle, which I have had occasion to advance 
 above, that the immortal element in our nature, the reasoning 
 soul, is the inheritance of all our race. As it is this, which 
 makes man superior to the beasts that perish ; so it is this, 
 which, in its moral and intellectual endowments, is the sole 
 foundation for the only distinctions between man and man, 
 which have any real value. This consideration shows the 
 value of institutions for education and for the diffusion of 
 knowledge. Jt was no magic, no miracle, which made New- 
 ton, and Franklin, and Fulton. It was the patient, judicious, 
 long continued cultivation of powers of the understanding, emi- 
 nent no doubt in degree, but not differing in kind, from those 
 which are possessed by every individual in this assembly. 
 
 Let every one then reflect, especially every person not yet 
 passed the forming period of his life, that he carries about in 
 his frame as in a casket, the most glorious thing, which, this 
 side heaven, God has been pleased to create, an intelligent 
 spirit. To describe its nature, to enumerate its faculties, to 
 set forth what it has done, to estimate what it can do, would 
 require the labor of a life devoted to the history of Man. It 
 would be vain, on this occasion and in these limits, to attempt 
 it. But let any man compare his own nature with that of a 
 4 
 
26 
 
 plant, of a brute beast, of an idiot, of a savage ; and then con- 
 sider that it is in mind alone, and the degree to which he im- 
 proves it, that he differs essentially from any of them. 
 
 And let no one think he wants opportunity, encouragement, or 
 means. I would not undervalue these, any or all of them, but 
 compared with what the man does for himself, they are of little 
 account. Industry, temperance, and perseverance are worth 
 more than all the patrons, that ever lived in all the Augustan 
 ages. It is these, that create patronage and opportunity. The 
 cases of our Franklin and Fulton are too familiar to bear repe- 
 tition. Consider diat of Sir Humphrey Davy, who died last 
 year, and who was in many departments of science, the first* 
 philosopher of the age.* He was born at Penzance in Corn- 
 wall, one of the darkest corners of England ; his lather was a 
 carver of wooden images for signs, and figure-heads, and chim- 
 ney pieces. He himself was apprenticed to an apothecary, 
 and made his first experiments in chemistry with his master's 
 phials and gallipots, aided by an old syringe, which had been 
 _ r i\en him, by the surgeon of a French vessel, wrecked on the 
 LandV Knd. From the shop of the apothecary, he was trans- 
 ferred to the ofiiee of a surgeon ; and never appears to have had 
 any other education, than that of a Cornish school, in his boy- 
 hood. Such was the beginning of the career of the man, who 
 at the age of twenty-two, u;:- N lecied, by our own country- 
 man. Count Rmniord, (hiin-clt a self-limirht benefactor of man- 
 kind,) to fill the elnir of ( 'hetnistry at the Royal Institution, in 
 London ; such wa> tin- origin and cdiu ation of the man, \\lio 
 discovered the mctalli- the alkalis and the earths; in- 
 
 lety lamp; and placed himself, in a ; 3, in 
 
 the chair of the Hoyal Society of London, and at the hi ad of 
 nf Europe. Sir Humphrey Davy's most brilliant 
 
 ditcoreriea \\en- etli <-ted, by bi> skilful application of the (Jal- 
 
 vanic Electricity, a principle, v. ho>e existence had been de- 
 lected, a few years before, by an Italian philosopher, from 
 
 T; . b i'Sir Himiplirry Davy \vlurh follows, to tin- .-ml oftli,- lec- 
 
 :_;oil I'lomthr article in thf Annual Biography lor 1~:!" 
 
27 
 
 noticing the contractions of a frog's limb suspended on an iron 
 hook, a fact which shows how near us in every direction, the 
 most curious facts lie scattered by nature. With an apparatus, 
 contrived by himself to collect and condense this powerful 
 agent, Sir Humphrey succeeded in decomposing the earths 
 and the alkalis ; and in extracting from common potash, the 
 metal (before unknown) of which it consists ; possessing at 
 70 of the thermometer the lustre and general appearance of 
 mercury, at 50, the appearance of polished silver and the soft- 
 ness of wax ; so light that it swims in water ; and so inflammable 
 that it takes fire, when thrown on ice. 
 
 These are perhaps but brilliant novelties ; though connected, 
 no doubt, in the great chain of cause and effect, with principles 
 of art and science, conducive to the service of man. But the 
 invention of the safety lamp, which enables the miner to walk un- 
 harmed through an atmosphere of explosive gas, and has already 
 saved the lives of hundreds of human beings, is a title to glory 
 and the gratitude of his fellow men, which the most renowned 
 destroyer of his race might envy. 
 
 The counsels of such a man, in his retirement and medita- 
 tion are worth listening to. I am sure you will think I bring 
 this lecture to the best conclusion, by repeating a sentence 
 from one of his moral works : 
 
 " I envy, says he, no quality of the mind or intellect in 
 others ; not genius, power, wit or fancy ; but if I could choose 
 what would be most delightful, and I believe most useful to me, 
 I should prefer A FIRM RELIGIOUS BELIEF to every other bless- 
 ing." 
 
 Erratum. Page 19, line 3d, for hydrostatic press read hydraulic press. 
 
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