A i iit | | ii] HI — vii 1531eee Cee iF WE Ce Fesoal GD (itt) This book is one of the ee i‘ ee of the late \8 nel ition Gaatanss Blog of Virginia.an slumnus Of hee ae sity of Virginia Ct Nhl \ sthyniay atin | Ne RWarner ME iC be Wir — , wd i, alesPare j W2GL VIC He 3 ee a Mega[. I re merece- en tn Ogee EN SE a mene — BRITISH ELOQUENCE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. LITERARY ADDRESSES. FIRST SERIES.re In a Series of Foolscap 8vo0 Volumes, Price 3s. 6d. each. BRITISH ELOQUENCE: THE LITERARY, POLITICAL, AND SACRED ORATORY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Published as far as possible under the superintendence of the Authors. ae LITHMRARY ORATORY. LITERARY ADDRESSES DELIVERED AT VARIOUS INSTITUTIONS. First Series. Srr ARCHIBALD ALISON, D.C.L. DUKE OF ARGYLL. HENRY GLASSFORD BELL, Esq. Str DAVID BREWSTER, F.R.S. Ear oF CARLISLE. BENJAMIN DisRAELI, M.P. Siz J. F. W. HERSCHELL, F.R.S. CHARLES KNIGHT, Esq. LorD Manon, M.P. Lorp JoHn Manners, M.P. ProFessor NicHot, LL.D. JOHN PuHrILiirs, M.A,, F.R.S. Sir THomaAs N. Tatrourp, D.C.L. ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. Second Series. LorpD BROUGHAM. THOMAS CAMPBELL. RICHARD COBDEN, M.P. Sir E. Burwer Lytton. T, BABINGTON MacauLay, M.P. PROFESSOR Masson. Sir ROBERT PEEL. Lyon PuayrFatr, C.B., F.R.S. Lorp JOHN RussELL, M.P. Sir JAMES STEPHEN, LL.D. PRiIncIPAL Scott, M.A. PROFESSOR WILSON. cE @slesieela ss Ase, © pee Aas © serve PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE DURING THE THIRTY-NINE YEARS’ PEACE. First Series, GEORGE CANNING. i Lorp CASTLEREAGH. j Lorp DurHAM. EARL GREY. | WILLIAM HUSKIsson. Lorp LIVERPOOL. Sir JAMES MACINTOSH. Str SAMUEL RoMILLY. Lorp JoHN RUSSELL. DUKE OF WELLINGTON. Second Series, LorD GEORGE BENTINCK. Lorp BrouGcHam. WILLIAM COBBETT. RICHARD COBDEN. EARL OF DERBY. BENJAMIN DISRAELL Lorp LyNDHuRST. T. BABINGTON MACAULAY. Dantet O’ConNELL. LorpD PALMERSTON. Sim Ropert PEEL. RIcHARD L. SHIEL. SACRED ORATORY. SERMONS BY THE MOST EMINENT LIVING DIVINES. First Series, Clergymen of the Church of England. Second Series, Clergymen of the Presbyterian Church of all Denominations. detEEE eet eT Dc paaticee =sllar i Np ae eA ene agama Se aaa ps We “Go oe 097 Yoeg eee LITERARY ADDRESSES, DELIVERED AT VARIOUS POPULAR INSTITUTIONS, Bins l SERIES: Rebised and Corrected by the Authors. SECOND EDITION. LONDGN? AMI GES GOW»: © SS > RICHARD GRIFFIN AND COMPANY, ? PUBLISHERD TO mith UNIVERS TY OF SLA8GOW, 3, > > ea eS aS yaw: ) ) Bo sib Oe cass 2? 1855. eae onsRPS Rise pon : i < 4 sce ee oe® e ef e e® @ e © @ 92 » e ee ff @eese «¢ ®@ eo @e¢, © ® @ ry e ee e e8e e°@ e aoe eve e ®@ e ore e e@ e@ ee. 5 e e°0 © eve ° . On = ; PRINTED BY ROBERT LYLE.CONTENTS. ADDRESSES DELIVERED AT VARIOUS LITERARY INSTITUTIONS, BY THE FOLLOWING GENTLEMEN :-— SIR DAVID BREWSTER, K.H., F.R.S.L. &E., LLD., «. +. 0-050: HENRY GLASSFORD BELL, ESQ,,......-. Ste J. §. W. HERSCHEL, BART, MLA. F-RS.,.......:..:0. 08 ia RIGHT HON. BENJAMIN DISRAELI, M.P., ......-2.00+eseee2e2 19 HOED JOHN MANNERS, MP.,.....:00c00 cose cere oe veseseetee enemas Sin CHOMAS NOON TALFOURD, D.G.L,......--0.0cs00seee-s- oe TOHN PHILLIPS, BSQ., MA, F.R.S........... . 62 THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CARLISLE,............---- 76 THE MOST REVEREND ARCHBISHOP WHATELY, D.D., ..... 87 SHAPTENS KNIGHT, ESQ,, .....0---<-eeeers- . cals SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON, BART, D.C.L., F.R.S.E., «.....0.+++-141 PIGHD HON. LORD MAHON, M-P.,....-.--2cecauceecoveses- sedi PROFESSOR J. P. NICHOL, LL.D.,.....++- Sige HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF ARGYLL,...........- 212 .. 987PR SETS Seg ae Ce _ ee PREFACE. THE multitude of Popular Institutions which have sprung up in Great Britain within the last thirty years—for the avowed purpose of affording facilities for mental culture and the dissemination of useful knowledge—is one of the most remarkable, and, to the philanthropist, one of the most encouraging features of the times. There was a period when it used to be held as a sort of dogma that the necessities of social existence separated mankind into two great classes—the many, whose doom was physical toil and mental apathy; and the few, whose privilege was bodily repose and intellectual activity. That period has slowly passed away. A long continuance of peace, with the concomitant blessings of great scien- tific discoveries and great commercial prosperity, has diminished the exigencies and softened the asperities of mere manual labour; and, as if with one voice and by common consent, the many, in exercise of the prerogative which belongs to them as immortal beings, have demanded admission within the sacred circle formerly occupied excfusively by the few. The— rim or — . PSE ~~: ere eB mh ae ere — Pe i a rR EPP TERENAS ecw ap AE a Da STS Sarees 7 sehaslaathileie TAHT tng poedaaatAeaRieee me eae ; ¥ Ui EDN trent aonet onan a Rahcasinamirnsansidi ce ee Vill PREFACE. claim, after some little doubt and hesitation—for it indicated the commencement of a new order of things —has at length been fully and fairly recognised. Itis now considered an established truth that the educa- tion of the masses is not only perfectly consistent with the discharge of the ordinary duties incumbens on them in life, but that, to afford them such educa- tion, is the surest of all methods by which to elevate and advance the general character of the nation. Inspired by this belief, men, distinguished in some instances by great scientific and intellectual attain- ments, and in others by high birth and elegant accomplishments, have come forward to lend willing and earnest aid to the cause of social | progress through the diffusion of knowledge. In so doing, they have not more than responded to the anxious wishes of the people themselves, who, in all the larger cities and towns, and even in some less populous places, have busied themselves in forming Associa- tions which, whether under the name of Athenzums, Schools of Art, Mechanics’ Institutions, or Philoso- phical Societies, are all happily animated by kindred objects. The scholars, philosophers, successful writers, statesmen, and other influential men of the day, by personally presenting themselves from time to time among the ordinary members of these Asso- ciations, have often strengthened and encouraged a iat enPREFACE. 1x them, filled with new ardour, and shown them how they may best avail themselves of at least a portion of those treasures which the wisdom and the industry f this world’s sages has accumulated. It occurred to the publishers of the present volume 1 that some interest would be excited, and so () 5 ® 9 } S Au would be done, by collecting together, for the first time, and offering to the reader, within a moderate compass, and at a moderate price, a number of the most successful of those Addresses which have of late years been-delivered by eminent persons to Popul Institutions. On communicating their design to the Authors of such Addresses—many of which had only appeared in ephemeral publications—they were in every instance met in the most liberal spirit; and the compositions were not only freely placed at their disposal, but they were in many instances specially revised and corrected. It is submitted, with some confidence, that the anticipations which had been formed of the probable value of such a work have not been erroneous. It will be seen from the contents that not a few of the master minds of the age have availed themselves of the opportunities afforded by the institutions in ques- tion to manifest the deep interest they take in the great cause of the education and moral and intellec- tual improvement of the people. The manner in Bwhich they enforce their views is of course as varied as the constitution of the minds that have been brought to bear upon the subject; but there is none of the Addresses that may not be read with profit, while some are replete with the most interesting informa- tion,—some with admirable suggestions for the prac- tical conduct of lifex—some with the grand truths of science, and some with philosophical argument and high-toned eloquence. It was surely desirable that such productions should not be allowed to be scat- tered abroad like the sibyl’s leaves. Individually, they were calculated to elevate and inspire the particular Associations to which they were addressed; collec- tively, and in a permanent form, they contain a code for the regulation and guidance of all the members of all the Associations. They present a hand-book to every young man desirous of making the most of his leisure hours, and of being directed by those most capable of giving advice in the prosecution of mental improvement. In the perusal of such a volume the reader may taste, in the eloquent words of one of the speakers whose Address it contains, “ that profound and solemn pleasure which men of right temper must ever feel when it is their privilege to commune with hearts beating in unison concerning the greatness and glory of this wonderful universe.” GLAsGow, May, 1852.aaa a ESO NR AEF ADDRESS DELIVERED TO THE SUBSCRIBERS TO THE WINDSOR AND ETON PUBLIC LIBRARY, ON THE 29TH JANUARY, 1833, GENTLEMEN,—I ought, perhaps, to apologise to you for addressing you on this occasion from a written paper. I know that to do so is not altogether in consonance with the habits of our countrymen when assembled on public occasions, and I should certainly not claim such an indulgence on this, if I had no better reason to assign than a mere want of the readi- ness and fluency of a practised speaker. But I consider this an important occasion; and as I hay thought long and with deep interest on the re tages, of a public and national description, which may be expected from institutions of this nature, as well as the evils to which they may become obnoxious if not conducted on proper Patines and with a view to the general result, I am very desirous that what I have to say should not lose the force I wish it to carry, by coming before you mixed up with my own So as a speaker;—and I should be very orry that the real interest of those topies on which Ibo SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. mean to beg your attention, should be frittered away in unmeaning or hyperbolical expressions, which, in the excitement of the moment, I might have the bad fast te to think very eloquent, but which would really have no other effect than to distract attention from the plain common sense of the matter. T will tell you, Gentlemen, in the first place, why I think this occasion so important. Weare assembled here in performance of our part of a process which is going on at present more slowly than might be wished, but which 2s at length fairly entered upon, and must advance with more rapidity as example sanctions and persuasion urges it; and will, I trust, in a very few years, be in active progress in every town, village, and parish in the kingdom—a process on which it is no exaggeration to say, that the future destinies of this empire will very mainly depend— because on it depends, by a natural and indissoluble link, our capacity as a nation fora We degree of civil liberty. The process I mean is the active en- deavour, on the part of every one eae can lend a hand to it, to improve the standard of moral and intellectual culture in the mass of the people. I am not going, Gentlemen, to read you a political lecture—tfar less to meddle with the topic of party politics, which my soul abhors; but I think it must be clear to every one, that in giving, as has been re- cently done, to the popu aula ar part of our constitution, a more extended and intimate contact with the people at large, a step has been taken, which when tried by the event—whether it shall have proved a step in advance towards a higher and purer form of civilWINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. liberty, or in a retrograde sense o ot owards i cense and its necessary consequence, oe power ill take its character in the alternative from the de oree In which that element shall be ee to prevail the most important of all political elements we hoe T have called the sue city of a nation for laberty, « and this capacity in all ages and nations I consider to be directly measured by the extent to which moral and intellectual culture are diffused among all ranks and conditions of me Reconta why? Because these— which in their ultimate meaning reduce th benevolence and wisdom, acquired, as far as they can be acquired, by a free access to the best sources of instruction,—these, I say, are the only principles of self-covernment, which ca replace effectually, By their intimate presence in the bosom of each indivi- dual, a lightened coercion of the governing power from without; and the only ones which can afford any rational assurance that a system of legislation foun fis openly and avowedly on public opinion shall turn out a prudent, or even a safe one. Indeed I might go farther, and assume it as a principle which, were it necessary, could be supported by many instances, ancient and modern apacity fox liberty, thus defined and measured, must for ever, and of necessity, as human society is constituted, com- v mand sooner or later that degree of freedom which is commensurate with it—that more attempted to be LL prematurely forced upon it, is sure to degenerate into license and call back the chain; while less cannot possibly be permanently withheld by any combination of the governing powers. Regarding, then, as everyFog a i te as i ra a Ue a ereh eae TE 4 SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. reasonable man must do, a high and enlarged degree of rational liberty as the first of temporal blessings, it cannot be a matier of small interest to witness the establishment among us of institutions which have either for their avowed object, or for their direct though perhaps not immediately intended, perhaps not in all cases perceived. tendency, to foster and encourage the only means by which it can be per- manently and beneficially secured. I shall therefore, I hope, be excused if I take ad- vantage of the honour you have done me by placing me in this chair, to offer a few observations on the more immediate objects which it is desirable we should aim at; so that, in pursuance of individual and local advantages, we may not lose sight of the general end, but rather endeavour to accommodate our future proceedings to the furtherance of that end, even though it should involve the surrender of some slight superfluity on our own parts, some resig- nation of what may be considered mere literary i luxuries, as a sacrifice to public utility. imay take it for granted, I think, when I look upon the circle around me, that in for ming this institution we have all of us a higher end in view than the | L mere amusement of the passing hour. We are de- sirous to have at our disposal a fund of instruction, by drawing from which as froma fountain, we may enlarge our knowledge, improve our taste, correct our judgment, and confirm our principles; and I will not pay my hearers so ill a compliment, or rather I will not lay on them so unmerited a reproach, as not to assume that this is the principal immediate object inWINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. view with us all. Now it must be.borne in mind, and I cannot impress it too strongly on your attention, that this principal object must always, and especially in the beginning while our funds are limited, be ina certain degree at variance with a subordinate, but still very agreeable, and by no means useless, part of our system—I mean the Periodical departi ne of the Journals and Magazines and floating literature of the day. And TI say this without any intention of depreciating either the entertainment or excitement of that sort of reading, or any real utility which may justly be ascribed to it—or its special utility to us, in its power of inducing some to give us their support who otherwise might not feel disposed to do so; but simply to caution you, thus early in our existence, against any future tendency to give an undue exten- sion to this department, so as to divert any large part of the bulk of our resources from their higher and far more useful destination, the increase of our library by the annual addition of Ae and standard works, guch as form the main body of our literature and science—such as have outlived ephemeral applause and risen above cotemporary neglect—and will con- tinue to represent to all ages the intellectual great- ness of the country which produced them. It is therefore with great satisfaction that I have heard it resolved, this evening, to throw open the library to a class of subscribers, at a lower rate than that which confers the privilege of access to the newspapers and periodical works. This is entirely as it should be. Such reading is a luxury and an indulgence, and should be paid for accor ‘dingly ; theSIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. other is a necessary, and should be afforded as cheaply and extensively as possible. I augur every thing from the approbation the pro- posal has met with, but I should be sorr 7, L confess, that we should stop short at that point. My own impression is, that we should make a still farther step, and provide a considerable stock of books for a class of subscribers who should subscribe nothing but the reading of them—books of which we should supply the perusal gratis to all who choose to apply for them, leaving perhaps some very trifling deposit, to ensure their return. I do not mean, of course, that our most expensive works, or valuable books of reference, should be so lent out, but, on the contrary, that cheap editions, or second-hand copies, should be expressly set apart for that use. The choice of the works to be admitted into this department, too, would call for some discrimination. And this brings me to a part of my subject on which I must beg your earnest attention. There is a want too much lost sight of in our estimate of the privations of the humbler classes, though it is one of the most incessantly craving of all our wants, and is actually the impelling power which, in the vast majority of cases, urges men into vice and crime. Itisthe wantof amusement. Itis in vain to declaim against it. Equally with any other principle of our nature, it calls for its natural indul- gence, and cannot be permanently debarred from it, without souring the temper and spoiling the charac- ter. Like the indulgence of all other appetites, it only requires to be kept within due bounds, and turnedETON LIBRARY. WINDSOR AND upon innocent or beneficial objects, to become a spring of happiness; but gratified to a certain moderate extent it must be, inthe case of every man, if we desire him to be either a useful, active, or contented member of society. Now, I would ask, what provision do we find for the cheap and innocent and daily amusements of the mass of the labouring population of this country ? What sort of resources have they to call up the cheerfulness of their spirits, and chase away the cloud from.their brow after the fatigue of a day’s hard work, or the stupefying monotony of some sedentary occupation? Why, really very little—I hardly like Au a) to assume the appearance of a wish to rip up griev- ances by saying how little. The pleasant field walk and the oe are becoming rarer and rarer have become so abst one ted a ideas ae riot and debauchery among a less cultivated classes, that : } their own sakes can hardly be said ee efore oe can be recommended as a taste for them fo to exist, and, | 0e innocent or safe amusements, a very great change of ideas must take place. The beer-shop and the public house, os true, are always open, and always full, but it is not by those institutions that the cause of moral and intellectual culture is advanced. The truth is, that¢ under the pressure of a continually condensing population, the habits of the city have crept into the village—the demands of agriculture have become sterner and more imperious, and while har dly a foot of ground is left uncultivated and unappropriated, there is positively not space left for many of the cheerful amusements of rural life. Now, since this8 SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. appears to be unavoidable, and asit is physically im- possible that the amusements of a condensed popula- tion should continue to be those of a scattered one, it behoves us strongly to consider of some substitutes. But perhaps it may appear to some almost prepos- terous to enter on the question. Why, the very name of a labourer has something about it with which amusement seems out of character. Labour is work, amusement is play; and though it has passed into a proverb, that one without the other will make a dull boy, we seem to have altogether lost sight ofa thing equally obvious—that a community of “ dull boys” tn this sense, is only another word for a society of ignorant, headlong, and ferocious men. I hold it, therefore, to be a matter of very great consequence, independent of the kindness of the thing —that those who are at their ease in this world should look about and be at some pains to furnish available means of harmless gratification to the indus- trious and well-disposed classes, who are worse pro- vided for than themselves in every respect, but who, on that very account, are prepared to prize more highly every accession of true enjoyment, and who really want it more. To do so is to hold out a bonus tor the withdrawal of a man from mischief in his idle hours—it is to break that strong tie which binds Many a one to evil associates and brutal habits—the want of something better to amuse him—by actually making his abstinence become its own reward. Now, of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man, after his daily toil, oY in its intervals, there is nothing like reading anWINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. entertaining book, supposing him to have a taste for it, and supposing him to have the book to read. It calls for no bodily exertion, of which he has had enough, or too much. It relieves his home of its dulness and sameness, which, in nine cases out of ten, is what drives him out to the alehouse, to his own ruin and his family’s. It transports him into a livelier, and gayer, and more diversified and interesting scene, and while he enjoys himself there he may forget the evus of the present moment, fully as much as if he were ever so drunk, with the great advantage of finding himself the next day with his money in his pocket, or at least laid out in real necessaries and comforts for himself and his family—and without a headache. Nay, it accompanies him to his next day’s work, and if the book he has been reading be any thing above the very idlest and lightest, gives him something to think of besides the mere mechanical drudgery of his every-day occupation—something he can enjoy while absent, and look forward with pleasure to return to. But supposing him to have been fortunate in the choice of his book, and to have alighted upon one really good and of a good class. What a source of domestic enjoyment is laid open! What a bond of family union! He may read it aloud, or make his heal ey © wife read it, or his eldest boy or girl, or pass round from hand to hand. All have the benefit o it—all contribute to the gratification of the rest, and vad, a feeling of common interest and pleasure is excited. Nothing unites people like companionship in intel- lectual enjoyment. It does more, it gives them mutual respect, and to each among them self-respectee ee eeepc ss Ianto researc haere 10 SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. —that corner-stone of all virtue. T¢ furnishes to each the master-key by which he may avail himself of his privilege as an intellectual being, to “ Enter the sacred temple of his breast, And gaze and wander there a ravished guest: Wander through all the glories of his mind, Gaze upon all the treasures he shall find.” And while thus leading him to look within his own bosom for the ultimate sources of his happiness, warns him at the same time to be cautious lest he defile and desecrate that inward and most glorious of temples. I recollect an anecdote told me by a late highly respected inhabitant of Windsor, as a fact which he could personally testify, having occurred in a village where he resided several years, and where he actu- ally was at the time it took place. The blacksmith of the village had got hold of Richardson’s novel of ‘Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded,” and used to read it aloud in the long summer evenings, seated on his anvil, and never failed to havea large and attentive audience. Itis a pretty long-winded book—pbut their patience was fully a match for the author’s prolixity, and they fairly listened to it all. a At length, when the happy turn of fortune arrived, which brings the hero and heroine together, and sets them living long and happily according to the most approved rules— the congregation were go delighted as to raise a great shout, and procuring the church keys, actually set the parish bells ringing. Now let any one say whether it is easy to estimate the amount of good done in this simple case. Not to Speak of the num- ber of hours agreeably and innocently spent—not toWINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. speak of the good fellowship and harmony promoted as a Bg ee eee a q Tae a over to the side of good—charmed whole rustic population fairly won and night after STs ee a, we ses Te esas : night spell-bound within that magic circle which a penius can trace so efiectually; and compelled to Wwe a bow before that image o: g virtue and purity which (though at a great expense of words) no one knew better how body forth with a thousand life-like touches than the author of that work. If I were to pray for a taste whic me in stead under every ke o! eee and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me EAS through life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss, and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it, of course, only as a worldly advantage, and not in the slightest degree as superseding or eo from the higher office and surer and stronger panoply of religious principles—but as a taste, an instrument and a mode of plea ean eratification. Give aman this taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making a happy man, unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You place him in contact with the best so- ciety in every period of history—with the wisest, the wil th the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters that have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations—a cotemporary of all ages. The world has been created for him. It is hardly possible but the character pe take a higher and better tone from the constant habit of associating in thought with a class of ee to say YL12 SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. the least of it, above the ‘average of humanity. Itis morally impossible but that the manners should take a tinge of good breeding and civilisation from having constantly before one’s eyes the way in which the best bred, and the best informed men have talked and conducted themselves in their intercourse with each - other. There is a gentle but perfectly irresistible coercion in a habit of reading well directed, over the whole tenor of a man’s character and conduct, which is not the less effectual because it works insensibly, and because it is really the last thing he dreams of. It cannot, in short, be better summed up than in the words of the Latin poet— “ Emollit mores, nec sini¢ esse feros.” [t civilises the conduct of men—and suffers them not to remain barbarous. The reason why I have dwelt so strongly upon the point of amusement is this—that it is really the only handle, at least the only innocent one, by which we can gain a fair grasp of the attention of those who have grown up in a want of instruction, and in a carelessness of their own improvement. Those who cater for the passions, especially the base or malignant ones, find an easy access to the ignorant and idle of every rank and station—but it is not so with sound knowledge or rational instruction. The very act of sitting down to read a book ig an effort, it is a kind of venture—at all events it involves a certain expendi- ture of time which we think might be otherwise pleasantly employed, and if this be not instantly and in the very act repaid with positive pleasure, we mayWINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. 1S rest assured it will not be often repeated—and what is worse, every failure tends to originate and confirm a distaste. If, then, we would generate a taste for reading, we must, as our only chance of success, begin by pleasing, and what is more, this must be not only the ostensible, but the real object of the works we offer. The listlessness and want of sympathy with which most of the works written expressly for circu- lation among the labouring classes, are read by them if read at all, arises mainly from this—that the story told, or the lively or friendly style assumed, is mani- festly and palpably only a cloak for the instruction intended to be conv a sort of gilding of what hey cannot well help fancying must be a pill, when they see so much and such obvious pains taken to rap it up. But try it on the other tack. Furnish them liber- oo ally with books not written expressly for them as class—but published for their betters, (as the phrase is,) and those the best of their kind. You will soon find that they have the same feelings to be interested by the varieties of fortune and incident—the same the discernment to perceive the shades of che same relish for striking contrasts between CR and evil in moral conduct, and the same irresistible pro- ception pensity to take the good ee of the sublime and beauiful in nature and art when distinctly placed aha foe by the touches of a and what is most of all to the Pre esent pur- pleased, to be master pose, the same desire having once been pleased again. In short, you will ana that in the higher and better class of works of fiction and ima-pana aiieiemenese od E 14 SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. gination duly circulated, you possess all you require to strike your grappling-iron into their souls, and chain them, willing followers, to the car of advancing civilisation. When J speak of works of imapinatien and fiction, I would not have it supposed that I would turn loose, among the class of ee to lon he am more espe- cially referring, a who a apenlatine Tahrerr ih) n wala fe OLE phous’ Ai Va cus} Of noveis. The novel, in its best form, I regard as one of the s of civilisation ever invented— but not the ae mances which used to be the most powerful engin nce) = terror of our maiden aunts; not the insolent produc- t tions which the press has lately teemed with, under f: Ig 7 the cal of fashior ale novels nor the desperate attempts to novelize history, which the herd of Scott’s imitators have put forth, which have left no epoch since the creation untenanted by modern antiques, and no character in history unfalsified; but the novel as it has been put forth by Cervantes and Richardson, by Goldsmith, by Edgeworth, and Scott. In the writings of these, and such as these, we havea stock of works in the highest degree enticing and interest- ing, and of the utmost purity and morality—full of admirable lessons of conduct, and calculated in every respect, to create and cherish that invaluable habit of resorting to books for pleasure. ‘Those who have once experienced the enjoyment of such works will not easily learn to abstain from reading, and will not willingly descend to an inferior grade of intellectual privilege—they have become prepared for r reading of a higher order—and may be expected to relish the finest strains of poetry, and to draw with advantage,WINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. from the purest wells of history and philosophy. Nor let it be thought ridiculous or overstrained to asso- ciate the idea of poetry, history, or philosophy, with the homely garb and penurious fare of the peasant. How many a rough hind, on Highland hills, is a familiar with the “‘ Paradise Lost,” or the works of his great national historians, as with his own sheep hook. Under what circumstances of penury and privation is not a high degree of literary cultivation maintained in Iceland itself— “Tn climes beyond the solar road, Where savage forms o’er ice-built mountains roam: The muse has broke the twillight gloom To cheer the shivering native’s dull abode.” And what is there in the character or circumstances of an Englishman that should place him, as a matter of necessity, and for ever, in a lower level of intel- lectual culture than his brother Highlander, or the natives of the most inhospitable country inhabited by man? Atleast, there is always this advantage in aiming at the highest results that the failure is never total, and that though the end accomplished may fall far short of that proposed, it cannot but reach far in advance of the point from which we start. There never was any great and permanent’ good .accomplished but by hoping for and aiming at something still greater and better.* * A taste for reading once created, there can be little difficulty in directing it to its proper objects. On this point I refer with pleasure to some excel- lent observations in a little work entitled ‘‘ Hints and Cautions on the Pursuit of General Knowledge; being the substance of Lectures delivered to Mechanics’ Institutions at Southampton and Salisbury, by John Bullar.” (Longman & Co. London, 1833,) pp. 23 e¢ seg. But the first step necessary CcSIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL. I have taken up a good deal of your time on this subject, and could still enlarge upon it, but I will content myself with one or two observations in the way of caution in the event of our adopting this or any similar project, of placing a certain portion of our library at the disposal of gratuitous readers. In the first place then, it appears to me quite an indis- pensable teature of such a plan, that no work, in any department of reading, should be allowed a place in the portion so set Me which is not of acknow- ledged and admitted excellence: nothing ephemeral —nothing trashy—nothing, in short, which shall have the slightest tendency to lower the high stand- ard of thought and feeling which should be held up. The educated and cultivated reader may bear a a great deal, and throw off what is unworthy of the rest. The illiterate and ignorant is placed in danger by any thing short of the very best. The other caution which I would hold out is, that an extreme scrupulousness should be exercised, with reference to the admission of works on Politics and Legislation, into such a department: indeed, I should strongly advocate their exclusion from it altogether. This is not from any jealousy of the discussion of political subjects by all classes of Englishmen, which, in the present age, would certainly be a very super- fluous feeling; but simply for this reason, that the true and useful object of such an institution is not to to be taken is to set seriously about arousing the dormant appetite by applying the stimulant; to awaken the torpid intellectual being from its state of inaction to a sense of its existence and of its wants. The after- task, to gratify them, and while gratifying to enlarge and improve them, will prove easy in comparison.“WINDSOR AND ETON LIBRARY. hz establish a school of politics, not to propagate opi- nions (which every one who puts a political book into the hands of another must inevitably do)—but to lay a broad foundation, by generally enlarging the information and cultivating the mental powers, to enable every man, however humble his station, te form his own opinion on this and a great many other subjects of deep import, (since opinions he must and will have,) with a generally better chance of forming aright one than he has at present. We shail be taking on ourselves a deep responsibility, and one for which I may conscientiously for my own part say, 1 am not prepared, by any step which may tend to interfere, one way or the other, with the free forma- tion of public opinion on such subjects—nor indeed. can I conceive a more probable cause of disagree- ment among ourselves, which is of all things the most to be deprecated, than the discussions which might arise on this point the only way to keep clear of which is to exclude such works altogether. On the other hand, I see not the slightest objection to the admission of a large class of works of this nature into that department of our library destined for the use of pecuniary subscribers—always re- serving a strong objection against works of a violent party character. Indeed, I can hardly imagine a more useful addition to it than an assemblage of the best works on political economy, as a science, and a subject of rational inquiry entirely distinct from politics; a subject, it is true, on which much dispute subsists, but on which, among all its complication and difficulty, a dawn of light has begun to appear,SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL, and on which it is of the- highest importance that every one calling himself an educated man, should possess some knowledge, and some habit of exercis- ing a logical discrimination, were it only to enable him to detect the fallacies which are continually brought forward. : I might now, Gentlemen, proceed to dilate on the advantages generally to the more educated and better informed, of these accessions to their education and information, which is included in the very notion of a large access to a well chosen library; but time is short, and I am sure they are already appreciated. { shall, therefore, now cease to trespass longer on your patience, and finish what I have to say, with the sincerest wishes for the progress of the institu- tion, and its increase in every thing which can add to the gratification of its members, and the general improvement of the neighbourhood in which it has arisen.ADDRE .S8 DELIVERED TO THE MEMBERS OF THE MANCHESTER ATHEN 4UM, ON THE 23D OcTOBER, 1844, BY THE RIGHT N. BENJAMIN DISRAELL, M.P. Lapres AND GENTLEMEN,—When I last had the honour of addressing the members of the Manchester thenzeum they were struggling for the existence of their institution. It was a critical moment in their fortunes. They had incurred a considerable debt in its establishment; the number of its members had eradually, and even for some years, considerably decreased; and, in appealing to the sympathies of the community, they were, un fortunately, appealing to those who were themselves but slowly recovering from a period of severe and lengthened suffering. A year has elapsed, and the efforts that you thus made to extricate youselves from those difficulties may now be fairly examined. ‘That considerable debt has been liquidated; the number of your mem- bers has been trebled—I believe quadrupled; and I am happy to say that your fortunes have rallied, while that suffering and surrounding community once more meet together in prosperity and success.ee ae Pree icRINre > ieee mt Teenanee en mete 20 B. DISRAELI, M.P. I think it not inopportune, at this moment of security and serene fortune, that we should clearly understand the object for which this great struggle has been made. Under circumstances which, if not desperate, filed you with the darkest gloom, you resolved like men to exert your utmost energies; you applied yourselves to those difficulties with manly energy — with manly discretion. Not too confident in your- selves, you appealed, and appealed successfully, to the softer sex, who you thought would sympathise with an institution intended to humanise and refine. Dua femina facti might indeed be the motto of your institution, for it was mainly by such influence that you obtained the result which we now celebrate. But if the object which you had at stake was of so great importance, if it justified exertions so remark- able, made too at a moment when energy was doubly valuable, because you were dispirited, it, I think, would not be unwise for us now to inquire what was the object for which we then exerted our- selves, whether it were one which justified that great sacrifice, and, if it were, to ascertain why it was ever imperilled. To-night we are honoured by many, who, like myself, are strangers, except in feeling, to your community. We are honoured too by the presence of deputations from many societies in this county and the North of Kngland, who acknowledge a sympathy and an analogy of pursuit with the Athenwum of Manchester. It will be well then to place before them briefly for their instrue- tion, and perhaps it may not be without profit to remind you, what that institution is that you haveMANCHESTER ATHENAUM. 21 struggled to uphold, but the existence of which was once endangered. I think it is seven or eight years ago that some of the leading members of your community, remem- bering perhaps that there was a time when they regretted that for them such advantages did not exist, thought they would establish in this great city some institution that might offer to the youth of Manchester relaxation which might elevate, and a distraction which would save them from a sense- less dissipation. They thought that the time had arrived when a duty devolved on those who took a leading part in communities that they should sym- pathise with the wants of the rising race, and there- fore they resolved to establish an institution where those advantages that I have referred to might be supplied. With these views they resolved, in the first instance, that some place should be supplied where the youth of Manchester might become per- fectly acquainted with the passing mind, and pas- sions, and feelings, and intelligence of the age. That idea was the foundation of your news-room. They rightly understood that the newspaper was the most effective arm of the press. It may indeed be considered as the infantry of the press. It is not a you require also ordnance and complete battalia artillery, a, brilliant cavalry; above all, you require the staff of the commander-in-chief, that, without absolutely or actively interfering in the fray, sur- veys all that occurs, and is ready at all times to apply itself to the quarter which requires counsel ; but still you may consider the journal as the most22 B. DISRAELI, M.P. efficient arm of the press. With these views they furnished a chamber in which the members of the Atheneum might perfectly be acquainted, in the perusal of the chief journals of the empire, with all that was passing in the country, all that was agi- tating and interesting the public mind—which might Supply them with that information, and guide them in forming those opinions, which it is the duty of every citizen of a free community to be acquainted with and to entertain. But, conscious that, how- ever qualified the journal is to stimulate curiosity, to assist investigation, to guide opinion, the know- ledge of that individual that is limited only by the daily press is in danger of becoming superficial, you thought that the members of this institution should have some means of consulting the more mature opinions, the more accurate researches of the literary mind of this and other countries, and wisely you made the chamber in which they might read the Hewspaper an ante-room only to the library. You formed a collection which is now not contemptible in numbers, for you may count it by thousands. What, however, is not so great as many of you must desire, which, in passing, I may be permitted to say is no disgrace to it, because it is a deficiency which is shared by every great collection in this country, and I believe in Kurope, but which I should be glad and you would be proud to be supplied in Manches- ter—I mean is that department which may be de- scribed as a commercial library. Manchester, that was once merely an assemblage of manufacturers, is now a great mercantile emporium, and at slightbo MANCHESTER ATHENZUM. 23 expense and with no great difficulty, if there were sufficient zeal, you might make a collection of all those interesting and isolated tracts on commerce which at various times during the last century have appeared in England, which now with difficulty you can refer to, but which would form in a collection a peculiar and interesting body of commercial litera- ture, and which, by the bye, you cannot find in the national repository of this country. You who had thus furnished the members of this institution with the journal which gave them the information anil feelings of the hour, the library where they might correct the hasty opinions which perhaps that pass- ing criticism is apt to engender—you knew there were many not deficient in ability, not deficient in ptness or feeling, to whom the very ceremony of reading is irksome, and who require to be appealed to by another means perhaps at first sight more captivating. Therefore you formed a theatre where lectures were given, where the experiments of phi- losophy, the investigations of literature, and the prolusions of art, were rendered agreeable to the audience by the charms of the human voice. You were not content with having raised an institution where the journal, the library, and the lecture-room were always prepared to enlighten or amuse—you ‘remembered those wise words of Charles V., who said that “the man who knew two languages had two-souls and two lives,” and therefore you esta- plished classes by which the youth of this city might initiate themselves in a knowledge of the modern languages. Your plan was comprehensive,24 B. DISRAELI, M.P. but it was not limited even by this fourth division. You knew well that in a free country, in a country that prides itself upon the science and practice of self-government, it is the duty—at least it is the interest—of all men to be able to express themselves in public with perspicuity, and, if possible, with elegance; therefore you established a discussion society, an institution in harmony with the political life and the social manners of England. Having thus amply provided for the formation of the mind g@ your new and rising community, you still remem- bered (borrowing a happy idea from those races of antiquity to whom you owe your name) that any education that confined itself to sedentary pursuits was essentially imperfect, that the body as well as the mind should be cultivated—you wisely, and in no common and ordinary spirit, established a gym- nasium. These are the principal characteristics of your institution. There are others on which it would be wearisome to dwell; but I have placed before you six principal objects that you had desired to attain. Having taken this large and comprehen- Sive view of the wants of your society, and meeting them with a spirit so liberal and large, you took the best and wisest step. You knew well the effect that architecture produces on the human mind: you determined therefore that your establishment should be embodied in an edifice that should please the imagination and satisfy the taste. You invited the most eminent of modern architects. Under the roof of a noble elevation you supplied the means for pursuing those studies that I have indicated ; andMANCHESTER ATHENAZUM. 2 this is a simple account of the Manchester Athenzeum. It is difficult to conceive how a nobler purpose, if for a moment we dilate upon it, could have animated your intentions. When we remember the class of your community for which this institution was par- ticularly adapted,—when we conceive, difficult as it is, surrounded as we now are with luxury and plea- sure,—when we attempt to picture to our imagina- tions what is the position of a youth, perhaps of very tender years, sent, as 1am informed is very fre- quently the case, from a distant district, to form his fortunes in this great metropolis of labour and of science,—when we think of that youth, tender in age, with no domestic hearth to soothe and stmu- when we picture him late, to counsel or control, to ourselves after a day of indefatigable toil, left to his lonely evenings and his meagre lodgings without a friend and without a counsellor, flying to dissipa- tion from sheer want of distraction, and perhaps in- volved in vice before he is conscious of the fatal net that is surrounding him—what a contrast to his position does it offer when we picture him to our- selves with a feeling of self-confidence, which sup- ports and sustains him after his day of toil, entering a great establishment where every thing that can satisfy curiosity, that can form taste, that can elevate the soul of man, and lead to noble thoughts and honourable intentions, surrounds hin! When we think of the convenience and the comfort, the kind- ness and the sympathy which, with a due decorum of manners, he is sure to command,—this youth, whoB. DISRAELI, M.P. but a few hours before was a stran ger—viewing an institution like the present only in this limited aspect, one must regard it as a great harbour of intellectual refuge and social propriety. If my description of what this institution offers to us, if my view of what it in some degree supplies, be just, what, I must inquire, is the reason that an institution, the prosperity of which now cannot be doubted, but so brief a time ago could have been apparently in the last stage of its fortunes? Itis not an agreeable task—I fear it may be considered by some an invidious one—if I, who am a stranger among you, should attempt to play the critic upon your conduct; but I feel confidence in your indul- gence. I remember the kindness which has placed me in this honourable position, and therefore I shall venture to express to you the two reasons to which I think the dangerous state of our position must fairly be ascribed. I would say, in the first place, without imputing the slightest fault to the origina- tors of this institution, wishing to be most distinctly understood as not only not imputing any fault to them, but most decidedly being of opinion that the fault does not lie at their door; still I cannot shut my eyes to the fact, that, in the origin of this insti- tution, by circumstances not foreseen, and which certainly were not intended, a party, a limited, and a sectarian feeling, in some degree pervaded its management. I confess, myself, that it appears to me that it would have been a marvel had it been otherwise. When we remember the great changes that had then but very recently occurred in thisMANCHESTER ATHEN ZUM. 2G country—when we recall to our mind not only the great changes that had occurred, but the still greater that were menaced and discussed—when we remem- ber what an influence is created when local jealousy blends with political passion—it is not difficult to imagine, because there are none of us present but in their sphere must have felt its influence—it is not wonderful that men of different political opi- nions shogld look with extreme jealousy upon each other. A combination of peculiar circumstances that created a balanced state of parties in those places where the struggle for dominion and power takes place, very much assisted this feeling; and that such a feeling existed throughout all England in a degree more intense and more virulent than has ever been equalled in the history of this country, I think no man will deny, and all must deplore. For my own part, I really believe that, had that party and sectarian feeling proceeded in the same ratio of virulence it has done for the last twelve or fourteen years, it must have exercised a barbarising influence upon public sentiments and public manners. There are some amongst us now, I know, who believe that the period has arrived when a great effort must be made to emancipate this country from the degrading thraldom of faction—to terminate, if possible, that extreme, that sectarian, and limited view, in which al] human conduct is examined, observed, and criti- cised—to put an end to that exclusiveness, which, in its peculiar sphere, is equally deleterious as that aristocratical exclusiveness of manners which has produced so much evil; and, as far as I can form an28 B. DISRAELI, M.P. opinion, these views have met with sympathy from every part of the country. I look upon it that to- night—I hope I am not mistaken—we are met to consummate and to celebrate the emancipation of this city, at least as far as the Atheneum extends, from the influence of these feelings. I hope that our minds and our hearts are alike open to the true character of this institution, to the necessities which have created it, to the benefits to which, it leads ; and happy I shall be, and all, I am sure, who are assisting me this evening, if it prove that our efforts, however humble, may have assisted in so delightful and so desirable a consummation. Now, that is one of the reasons, and one of the principal reasons, why I believe a blight seemed to nave fallen over our fortunes. I think at the same time that there is another cause that has exercised an injurious effect upon the position, until recently, of this institution. I think that a limited view of its rea] character has been taken even by those who were inclined to view it in a spirit of extreme friendliness. it has been looked upon in the light ofa luxury, and not of a necessity as a means of enjoyment in the hour of prosperity from which we ought to be debarred when the adverse moment has arrived; so that, when trade was prospering, when all was sunshiny, a man might condescend to occupy his spare hours in some- thing else than in a melancholy brooding over the state of the country—that, when returns were rapid and profits ready, one might deign to cultivate one’s faculties, and become acquainted with what the mind of Europe was conceiving or executing; but theseMANCHESTER ATHEN ZUM. 29 were delights tobe reserved only for those chosen hours. Now that, lam bound frankly to say, is not the view which I take of this question—not the idea which I have formed of the real character of the Manchester Atheneum. I look upon it as part of that great educational movement which is the noble and ennobling characteristic of the age in which we live. Viewing it in that light, I cannot consent myself that it should be supported by fits and starts. sciven us that movement in The impulse which has g modern. times is one that may be traced to an age that may now be considered comparatively remote, though the swell of the waters has but recently ap- proached our own shore. Heretofore society was established necessarily on a very different principle to that which is now its basis. As civilisation has gradully progressed, it has equalised the physical qualities of man. Instead of the strong arm it 1s the strong head that is now the moving principle of society. You have disenthroned Force, and placed on her high seat Intelligence; and the necessary consequence of this great revolution is, that it has become the duty and the delight equally of every itizen to cultivate his faculties. The prince of all philosophy has told you, in an immortal apophthegm so familiar to you all that it is now written in your halls and chambers, ‘“ Knowledge is power.” If that memorable passage had been pursued by the student who first announced this discovery of that great man to society, he would have found an oracle not less striking, and in my mind certainly not less true; for Lord Bacon has not only said that “ knowledge30 B. DISRAELI, M.P. is power,” but living one century after the discovery of the printing-press, he has also announced to the world that “knowledge is pleasure.” Why, when the great body of mankind had become familiar with this great discovery—when they learned that a hew source was opened to them of influence and enjoyment, is it wonderful that from that hour the heart of nations has palpitated with the desire of becoming acquainted with all that has happened, and with speculating on what may occur? It has indeed produced upon the popular intellect an influence almost as great as I might say analogous to—the great change which was produced upon the old commercial world by the discovery of the Americas. A new standard of value was introduced, and, after this, to be distinguished, man must be in itellectual. Nor, indeed, am I surprised that this feeling has so powerfully influenced our race; for the idea that human happiness is dependant on the cultivation of the mind, and on the discovery of truth, is, next to the conviction of our immortality, the idea the most full of consolation to man; for the cultivation of the mind has no limits, and truth is the only thing that is eternal. Indeed, when you consider what a man is who knows only what is passing under his own eyes, and what the condition of the same man must be who belongs to an institution like the one which has assembled us together to- night, is it—ought it to be—a matter of surprise that, from that moment to the present, you have had a general feeling through- out the civilised world in favour of the cece of knowledge? A man who knows nothing but theMANCHESTER ATHEN_EUM. oi the history of the sa but that a certain person whose brain was as vacant as his own occupied the same house as himself, who in a moment of despon- dency or of gloom has no hope in the morrow becau he has ae nothing that has taught him that ee morrow has any changes—that man, compared with him be: has read the most ordinary abridgment of history, or the most common philosophical specula- tion, is as distinct and ¢ ent an animal as if he had fallen from some oi ae was influenced By a different organisation, working for a different end, and hoping for a different result. It is knowledge that equalises the social condition of man—that gives eq to all, however ditierent their political position, pas- ions which are in common, and enjoyments which are universal, Knowledge is like the mystic ladder in the patriarch’s dream. Its base rests on the primeval earth—its crest is lost in the shadowy splendour of the ae 1; while the great authors who for traditionary ages have held the chain of science and ph losophy, of poesy and erudition, are the angels ascending and descending the sacred scale, and maintaining, as a were, the communication be- tween man and ae. This feeling is so universal that there is no combination of society in any age in which it has not dev Eee itself. It may, indeed, be partly restrained under despotic governments, under peculiar systems of retarded civilisation; but it is a consequence as incidental to the spirit and the genius of the Christian civilisation of Europe, as that the day s should follow night, and the stars should Day Tr wre AT Dp OF By DT SRABLI, RECEs shine according to their laws wa 8 eer oo) Qu 2 Qa a ry 7 A ~ by a gifted race more than 2000 years ago; at a time when the ancestors of the manufacturers of Manchester, who now clothe the world, were them selves covered with skins, and tattooed like the red men of the wilderness. But influences more power- po) ful even than the ai eal lapse of time separate and distinguish you from that race. They were the children cf the sun; you live in a distant, a rugged, and northern clime. They bowed before different altars, they followed different customs, they were modified. by different manners. Votaries of the Beautiful, they sought in Art the means of embody- ing their passionate conceptions; you have devotedMANCHESTER ATHEN ZUM. 33 your energies to Utility; and by the means of a power almost unknown to antiquity, by its miraculous agencies, you have applied its creative force to every combination of human circumstances that could pro- duce your objects. Yet, amid the toil and triumphs of your scientific industry, upon you there comes the undefinable, the irresistible yearning for intellectual refinement—you build an edifice consecrated to those beautiful emotions and to those civilising studies in which they excelled, and you impress upon its front taken fi Lom ‘ Where on Aigean shores a city rose, Built nobly, clear the air, and light the soil, Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence!” Beautiful triumph of immortal genius! Sublime incentive to eternal fame! Then, when the feeling 1 q is so universal, when it is one which modern civili- z i cr sation is nurturing and developing, who does no that it is not only the most benevolent, but the most politic thing you can do to avail yourselves of ts influence, and to direct in every way the forma- i tion of that character ne i. intellect must necessarily now exercise an irresistible influence? Je cannot shut our eyes any ie nger to the immense revolution. Knowledge is no longer a lonely eremite affording a chance and captivating hospitality to some wandering pilgrim; knowledge is now found in the market-place, a citizen and a leader of citizens. The spirit has touched the multitude; it has im- pregnated the mass— a Totamque infusa per artus, Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.”B. DISRAELI, M.P. I would yet say one word to those for whom this institution is not entirely but principally formed. I would address myself to that youth on whom the hopes of all societies repose and depend. I doubt not that they feel conscious of the position which they occupy—a position which, under all cireum- stances, at all periods, in every clime and country, is one replete with duty. The Youth of a nation are the trustees of Posterity ; but the youth I address have duties peculiar to the position which they occupy. They are the rising generation of a society unprecedented in the history of the world; that is at once powerful and new. In other parts of the kingdom the remains of an ancient civilisation are prepared ever to guide, to cultivate, to influence the rising mind; but they are born in a miraculous creation of novel powers, and it is rather a provi- dential instinct that has developed the necessary means of maintaining the order of your new civili- sation, than the matured foresight of man. This is their inheritance. ‘They will be called on to per- form duties—great duties. I, for one, wish, for their sakes and for the sake of my country, that they may be performed greatly. I give to them that counsel which I have ever given to youth, and which I believe to be the wisest and the best,—I tell them to aspire. I believe that the man who does not look up will look down; and that the spirit that does not dare to soar is destined perhaps to grovel. Every individual is entitled to aspire to that posi- tion which he believes his faculties qualify him to occupy. I know there are some who look withMANCHESTER ATHENAUM. 8 what I believe is short-sighted timidity and false prudence upon such views. ‘They are apt to tell us—‘ Beware of filling the youthful mind with an impetuous tumult of turbulent fancies; teach youth, rather, to be content with his position—do not induce him to fancy that he is that which he is not, or to aspire to that which he cannot achieve.” these are superficial delusions. He who enters the In my mind world finds his level. It is the solitary being, the isolated individual, alone in his solitude, who may be apt to miscalculate his powers, and misunderstand his character. But action teaches him the truth, even if it be astern one. Association affords him the best criticism in the world, and I will venture to say that if he belong to the Atheneum, though when he enters it he may think himself a genius, if nature has not given him a passionate and creative soul, before a week has elapsed he will become a very sober-minded individual. I wish to damp no youth- ful ardour. I can conceive what such an institution would have afforded to the suggestive mind of a youthful Arkwright. Ican conceive whata nursing - mother such an institution must have been to the brooding genius of your illustrious and venerated Dalton. It is the asylum of the self-formed; it is the counsellor of those who want counsel, but it is nota guide that will mislead, and it is the last place that will fill the mind of man with false ideas and false conceptions. He reads a newspaper, and his conceit oozes out after reading a leading article. He reters to the library, and the calm wisdom of centuries and sages moderates the rash impulse of juvenescence.30 B. DISRAELI, M.P. He finds new truths in the lecture-room, and he goes home with a conviction that he is not so learned as he imagined. In the discussion of a great question with his equals in station, perhaps he finds he has his superiors in intellect. ‘These are the means by which the mind of man is brought to a healthy state, by which that self-knowledge that always has been lauded by sages may be most securely attained. Tt is a rule of universal virtue, and from. the senate to the counting-house will be found of universal appli- cation. Then, to the youth of Manchester, repre- senting now the civic youth of this great county and this great district, I now appeal. Let it never be said again that the fortunes of this institution were in danger. Let them take advantage of this hour of x prosperity calmly to examine and deeply to compre- hend the character of that institution in which their best interests are involved, and which for the m may afford a relaxation which brings no pang, and yields information which may bear them to fortune. It is to them I appeal with confidence, because I feel I am pleading their cause—with confidence, because in them I repose my hopes. When nations fall, it is be- cause a degenerate race intervenes between the class that created and the class that is doomed. Let them then remember what has been done for them. The leaders of their community have not been remiss in regard to their interests, Let them remember, that when the inheritance devolves upon them, they are not only to enjoy but to improve. They will one day succeed to the high ‘places nity; let them recollect those who lighted the way for of this great commu-iN ZUM. ; lem; and ¥ 12h xrho th ey inn, When ti ey have virtue pete: publi id a s delivered 4+, + eae to them, | human pnroLsress HUMan p- Sy* CahSan tere erent ADDRESS DELIVERED TO THE MEMBERS OF THE MANCH?# STER ATHENA UM, ON THE 23p OctosErR, 1844, BY LORD JOHN MANNERS, MP. Lorp J. Manners said,— When I first received the flattering invitation to be present at this most brilliant and gratifying assemblage, I will own to you that I hesitated whether to accept it or not, because I was not sure that a stranger from another part of England did right in participating in a work afiecting the local interests of this vast hive of manufacturing industry ; but then I reflected that Manchester had now, by the enterprise and skill of her children, become intimately and inseparably con- nected with every portion, however remote, of the English kingdom, and that every Hing lishman might therefore claim a s] 1are in her greatness, sympathise m her endeavours to promote the welfare of her children, and share in her princely hospitality. Nor, indeed, will this be the first time that I have par- taken of that hospitality, nor this the first occasion, on which I have expressed my grateful sense of it, In appearing, therefore, among you this evening, although to most of you, I fear; I must be a stranger,MANCHESTER ATHEN ZUM. 39 i cannot altogether say I feel myself among stran- gers. ‘The kindness, indeed, of your reception of me, and those cheers, would before this have dissi- pated my fears on that score. In these days of poli- tical rancour, and class and party distinctions, it is gratifying to any one who remembers that the name of Englishmen should be one of prouder import, and bear a more quickening spell, than that of Whig or Tory—to find a field whereon politicians of all opi- nions may meet without quarrelling, and, better still, with a hope that the result of the meeting may be affording increased means of mental amusement and recreation to the laborious salesman and toiling ap- a T have called it amusement and recreation, because I do not understand that your Atheneum pro- ne ses to go beyond AK and because I should think ess well of it ifit did. And here I must beg a boon at your hands,—Ifin any thing I have said, or am about to say, I may hazard an opinion not altogsthe in harmony with that of every individual out of the three thousand whom I have now the honour of addressing —an event certainly by no means improbable—I ask you to overlook it, and, as a love of independence has ever been acharacteristic of the Saxon, lam sure I shail notask in vain. ‘The reason, then, why Mechanics’ Institutes were so strongly opposed at their forma- ion, and why, in my opinion, so many of them are now either languishing or dead—was that, deserting and exceeding this their legitimate province, they arrogated, or at least their advocates arrogated for them, the education of the country, and seemed to fancy it supplied by a smattering of science andLORD JOHN MANNERS, M.P. i human philosophy. It was but the other day I had the pleasure of listening to a speech which would have graced any assembly, He by a young Tae Birmingham artisan, in which he deseribed the de- ny cadence of all such eneation in his own town to } their f a. amusement in instruction, and acting on the assumption that a man, after working twelve, a or fourteen, or perhaps fifteen hours a-day, would Hi or could sit down to recreate his mind with a course of mathematics or a lecture on geology. If then your Atheneum were founded on any such basis, I fran Diy say { could not support it, but, believing it only proposes to supply the already educated with wholesome and agreeable readin g—to mould, soften, and elevate the intellectual tastes of that middle class of which it is chiefly composed, and to foster and encourage rising talent, I rejoice at this opportunity your kindness has afforded me of expressing my sympathy in your objects and ny warm approval of your endeavours—endeavours and objects which as taken in conjunction with as animated by a similar spirit, may go far to s y the place of that . more intimate connection ae once subsisted be- | tween the master and his apprentice, and unite gen- erally the various classes of sc ciety in the firm bonds of mutual interest and good will. It would be indeed Most presumptuous in me, and most unnecessary, to do more in Manchester than just allude to the & tact, that there are other g Steps to be taken bes ides this one of providing int oe eCE eation for the middle class. The magnificent ex ample set by Manchester to al! other fe towns, and which al] Bnelands is at Sete aa LS btthis moment ringing—that great undertaking to provide parks and walks for all classes of the com- munity—open alike to the highest and the lowest— shows how well that truth is understood in Man- chester ; and I trust, before long, it will be followed by another step in the same direction—the opening of museums and collections of that nature to the people at large. Most encouraging indeed is it tc witness the eagerness with which the people every- where avail themselves of every opportunity which is offered them to frequent exhibitions of art, places of innocent amusement—still more gratifying their demeanour while there. The meeting I had the pleasure of attending this morning bore witness to another fact as to the taste of the members of the various literary oo which I think is remark- able. We were told that history was a favourite study; now, I think it a matter of congratulation that contemporary with this ide reaat demand for history do we find a satisfactory revolution in that department of literature. We see a truth-seeking inquisition at work, which refuses to accept the low and party views of the historians of the last century ; the data upon which history is to be formed are care- fully sought out, revolved from the obscurity in which they are shrouded, and from them independent con- clusions are formed, often at variance with received notions and opinions. The formation and success of : societies like the Camden, the Roxburgh, the Ar- chological, and others which are constantly bringing those data to light, are proofs of the zeal and ear- nestness with which the records of the mighty past42 LORD JOHN MANNERS, M.P. are being ransacked for the benefit, we may hope, of the future. In a social and political point of view— political, I mean, in its most legitimate and least party sense—I rate highly the good which may accrue to this country from having its past history not a mere record of the kings who reigned and the battles they fought, but the history of its inner life, the habits, thoughts, and tastes of its people, the real aims and objects of its governors laid faithfully before us, because I am every day more and more convinced that half the mischief which is done to a country like this by its legislators and rulers is done from a mis- understanding of its past history; and it is to societies like these and to meetings like these that they, who are thus pioneering the way to a faithful understand- ing of the past, must look for Support and encourage- ment against the obloquy and opposition which every one who disturbs the slumber of contented lethargy must encounter. In another, perhaps subordinate, but still important branch of contemporary literature —that of taste and the fine arts, no one can enter- tain a doubt as to the salutary change which has come over the popular mind in that respect. Glance at the literary advertisements, observe the works lying in every bookseller’s shop, on every stall at your railway stations, enter the schools of design now happily opened in some of our large towns, listen to the lectures of such men as Professor Dyce or Pro- fessor Willis,—in all we see signs not to be misun- derstood of an improved, a more noble, a more Eng- lish, a more Christian taste. That which M. Rio and others have so appropriately termed Christian artMANCHESTER ATHENAEUM. 43 has once more raised its head, and promises fair to emulate, not to surpass, but to emulate its past gran- deur and beauty. Be it then the part of the Man- chester Athenzeum to cultivate and foster that manly literature and that rising art in their endeavour to render this age and this place, already so remarkable for their commercial and manufacturing greatness, equally so for the purity and beauty of their arts and literature. Be it yours to render obsolete the taunt that manufactures must produce a dry, harsh, un- poetical, material spirit; be it yours to practically refute the terrible contrast which has been drawn by the master architect of the day between such a town as Manchester in 1480 and in 1840, by inducing a love for, and an appreciation of whatever is elevating and ennobling in the fine arts and literature ; do this. I know there will still be tasks of greater moment and ereater difficulty to accomplish; but do this—you will have done somewhat—a great somewhat; you will have blent together in harmony elements heretofore most contradictory; you will have used them for pre- paring the ground, it may be for others to bring intorich cultivation; you will haveset an exampleto the people of England, that, however weighty political differences may be, social accordand improvementis still more so; and, depend upon it, your children’s children will have veason to bless those evenings spent as this evening is being spent in good fellowship and the interchanges of kind wishes and of thought between the various classes of this careworn empire, in an attempt—may it be successful !—to soften the harsh tendencies of toil and wealth, by the gentle means of literatureand art. CAL Uei FS PEPSI TN ere ADDRESS DELIVERED TO THE MEMBERS OF } rT 7 Ce ay TN EM ET At Ts fT wHE MANCHESTER ATHEN v 4 UM, ON THE 23D OcrozBER, 1845, BY SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD, Cl: ONE OF THE JUSTICES OF THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS. Lapizs anp Grentiur MEN,—If there were not virtue in the objects, and power in the affections, which have ‘alled into life the splendid scene before me, capable of emboldening the apprehensiv e, and strengthening the feeble, I should shrink at this moment fio attempting to discharge the duties of the high office to which the kindness of your directors has raised me. When I remember that the first of this series of bril- lant anniversaries wasillustrated by the presidency of my friend, Mr. Charles Dick