)VU;* iliy ^ M "4 f% IB SOME OF THE MEANS OF ELEVATIXG THE CHARACTER OF THE WORKING CLASSES. Delivered at the close of the Winter Course, 1833—34, OF THE FRANKLIN INSTITUTE OP THE STATE OP PENNSYLVANIA. FOR THE Promotion ot tive mechanic Sifts. BY J. K. MITCHELL, M. D. Professor of Chemistry in the Franklin Institute. FnOM THE JOURNAL OF THE FRANKLIN INSTITUTE FOR AUGUST, 1834. PHILADELPHIA: JESFER HARDING, FRINTEl 1834 m Philadelphia, April 30, 1834. John K. Mitchell, M. D. Dear Sir,—I am directed by the Committee on Instruction to present their thanks for the interesting Lecture delivered by you at the termination of the course of Lectures in the Franklin In- stitute the past season, and to request that you will furnish a copy for publication. I venture to hope that they will be allowed to give the most extended currency to a production so admirably calculated to advance the great object of the Institute, and am, Very sincerely, your's, F. FRALEY, Chairman Com. on Instruction. A LECTURE, &c. It is not usually in good taste, to come before a class, with an apology for an imperfect state of preparation. Circumstances will justify me in so doing, in the present instance, as I now appear before you, not of my own accord, but in compliance with a request made only a few days ago. Sufficient time has not been given, even if it were all at my disposal, to compose a dissertation worthy of the oc- casion, much less could it be done in the few hours of release from the calls of a restless profession. Such as it is, however, I present it to you, with the confidence, warranted by your invariable kindness to your teachers, that it will not be subjected to the rigorous rules of criticism, but that, even without any explanatory excuse, you would make all necessary allowance for defects, and dwell rather upon the goodness of the intention, than upon the imperfections of the execu- tion. The subject which appears most suited to an occasion like the pre- sent, is the mechanic character,—the causes of its actual and former condition—and the means of elevating it, so as to place the operative arts, on the same platform with professional pursuits. If, in execu- ting this task, I should probe harshly the wounds which I am prepar- ing to heal, I trust that the love of truth, and the desire for improve- ment, hitherto so strongly displayed by this class, will not desert it, at the very time when a full share of both, will be necessary to the process of restoration. That I have a very sincere desire to im- prove, and exalt, the condition of the working classes, cannot now, I should suppose, be doubted by any of you. I have laboured long enough, too, among the dust, and smoke of a laboratory, to feel myself entitled to the appellation of a workman; and while so en- gaged, have not been able to perceive any necessary connexion be- tween manual labour and degradation; any essential disjunction of the work of the hands from that of the head; any law of nature which should make impossible, or even difficult, an alliance of good man- ners, high morals, and elegant accomplishments, with the active du- ties of the mechanic. On the other hand, I constantly perceive the immense value of all these things to the workman. He cannot bring superfluous talent to his work, however simple habit may make it appear; he cannot have too much of that patience and self-denial which are found most highly cultivated in the most polished circles; and in his dealings with his customers on the one hand, and his work- men, or fellow labourers, on the other, he will unquestionably find educated politeness, and habitual self-possession, the means of wealth, and the sources of affection and obedience. There is no one good quality of the gentleman which can sit ill on the mechanic, however 4 4 poor he may be; this is abundantly manifested in Philadelphia, where many of the productive class, are found possessed of every gentle- man-like accomplishment, and enriched and exalted by them in a way which ought to convince everyone of their great importance, even in the promotion of the objects of business, and the accumulation of for- tune. In all simple and inartificial communities, persons skilled in any kind of workmanship, were held in high estimation. Even among the celestials, the amusing mythology of the Greeks had placed a working divinity; and Vulcan, though soiled by his profession, and devoted to labour, was not the less a god on that account. Aaron, although the brother of the first of the prophets, seems, in the construction of the golden calf, and of the serpents, to have applied a remark- able degree of mechanical skill. The highly educated, eloquent, logical St. Paul, was trained to the business of a tentmaker; and the Saviour of the World, who had been apparently carefully educated in the'learning of the times, handled the axe and the saw. These, with examples nearer our own time, presented by Franklin, Fulton, Rittenhouse, and many others, show, that in the employment of the hands, there is no natural degradation, and that, whatever may be the artificial prejudices now prevalent on this sub- ject, manual professions may be followed consistently with the pos- session of every noble, and every literary qualification; and that the business duties of the mechanic are not to exempt him from the con- tribution of his share to the literary repute and worth of his country. That this is not a common opinion, is unfortunately true; that it is an unwarrantable opinion, is unquestionably false. To show this in the stronger light, let us consider the causes of the present condition of the working classes, and we shall then be better able to indicate the remedies. During the existence of the feudal system, the working classes were either the slaves, or the essential dependents of the owners of the soil. Their vassalage necessarily degraded them. Labouring exclusively for the pleasure, or interest of others, they looked upon employment as a task, the conclusion of which was alone agreeable, and which could not excite curiosity, or bestow satisfaction. In any event, the reward of the toil, if it happened to pass into the hands of the artisan, was insecure, because laws were then made chiefly for the protection and convenience of those who enacted them; and they were seldom, if ever, men who could not boast of a long line of en- nobled ancestry. A sense of constant dependance—a ceaseless feel- ing of insecurity—create servile habits, low cunning, and habitual deference towards the sources of power and protection. Under the most favourable circumstances, the artisan became the resident of some town or city, which had procured from royal bounty, or interest, or policy, certain immunities. But even there the tenor of the times scarcely suffered him to escape from the thraldom inci- dent to his occupation. Either the town was subject to the oversha- dowing power ot some neighbouring baron, to whom it paid fealty for the sake of peace or protection; or, it was under the control of petty 5 tyrants, the offspring of corporation acts or customs, who lorded it over their fellows with that arrogance and cruelty, which we so often see exercised by those who have but recently acquired power and consequence. Incapable of securing either wealth or station, it was scarcely to be expected that the working classes of that age, would covet, or ob- tain the advantages of mental cultivation; or that the education of themselves, or their children, would become an object of much im- portance. Even if desirable, education, as we now understand the term, was inaccessible to almost all of them. Learning, contradis- tinguished from science, was the fashion of the age; and, confined chiefly to the monasteries, it was hardly attainable even by the nobili- ty. But such as it was, the learning of that period, could have been of little use to the artisan, in the pursuit, or improvement, of his pro- fession. Inductive philosophy, the creature of the genius of Bacon, and the great light of the arts in our time, had not yet been born; and science might have sought in vain, amidst the false lustre of the school of subtleties, for one single ray of true practical knowledge. All the influences, therefore, of the times were adverse to the me- chanic. There existed no consequence but that of the noble, or the monk; no security, but that of hereditary power; no accumulation but that by the king or the baron; no education but that which, inac- cessible to the artisan, could not, if attainable, have elevated his intel- ligence, or illuminated his pursuits. It is not, therefore, so much a matter of surprise, that he sunk into ignorance and degradation, as that, in spite of such sinister influence, he should have been able to sustain so much respectability, and to contribute so much to the ad- vancement of the manual arts. A pursuit, essentially dependent, affording no security for its gains, and unadorned with the lustre of education, is never adopted by any but such as are driven to it by necessity, or inured to it by habit. It is therefore followed, usually, by low and vulgar minds, and is con- sequently in danger of becoming still more degraded in their hands. It was so with the mechanic arts, and their cultivators, down to that period, when a great variety of causes, political, moral, and religious, began to react on the monopolists of privilege and power, and brought the people into the possession of a share of both. Among the most influential of these causes, was the growth of great towns. As a community becomes more extensive, individuals lose their promi- nency, and the public is more conspicuous. Units are merged in aggregates; and as the mechanic was lost from sight in the vast mass of human beings, he was left to the less fettered pursuit of his busi- ness, and his happiness. He was more at ease, and, of course, more industrious. He was surer of his gains, and consequently more eager to embrace all the means of acquisition. He felt that education could be made a source of distinction, and as it was now attainable, he sought it, both for pleasure and profit. A common cause, a general interest, often brought him for the sake of gain, or the repulsion of invasion, civil, and military, into concurrent action with the merchant, the lawyer, and the physician; men who had long before him broken 6 through the barriers of exclusive privilege, and asserted their claims to a share of education and refinement. Such association could not fail farther to increase the nominal, as well as real, importance, of the mechanic, and to add to his social value, as well as his intellec- tual culture. Yet even under the most favourable position assumable in Europe, even now, the mechanic is exposed to the deteriorating agency of many artificial arrangements. Subjected to a long apprenticeship, he must begin his course of manual labour at least as early as thir- teen, and is of course debarred from acquiring that kind of education, which is to him of the most vital importance—a philosophical educa- tion. That is not attainable at so early an age. A very great many of the towns of the civilized part of the old world, are incorporated, so as to exclude from the exercise of an art, those who have not in- herited, or bought its "freedom," even though regularly indented, and legally authorized to practice it elsewhere. Besides, the artifi- cial distinctions in the society of these countries, are perpetuated as well by law as custom, and a tradesman there is scarcely yet tolerat- ed in using the dress and the habits of what they call the better classes. These numerous artificial causes have had the effect of creating a degraded estimate of the value of the mechanical professions, which has travelled across the Atlantic to us, and like many other of the feudal and aristocratical falsities of Europe, has been unfortunately in- grafted into the very substance of society in this country. It is for this reason that some callings are esteemed more genteel than others, which are as intrinsically noble and useful. You well know that the profession of the lawyer or the doctor, though properly speaking unproductive, is esteemed more honourable than that of the mason, the carpenter, or the blacksmith, which is continually promoting the wealth and the power of society. Thus far, then, the mechanics are not censurable for holding, in the scale of society, a station inferior to that to which, by their wealth, numbers, political consequence, and public usefulness, they should be entitled. But it is not in accordance with the good sense, good feeling, and love of justice, so conspicuous in the American character, to continue the pressure of the odium of a caste, unless the people upon whom it weighs, by neglecting the means of escape from it themselves, become voluntary sufferers, and rivet the fetters thrown around them by ancient usage and imported prejudice. If, then, the American mechanic is not yet, however truly estimable, rated as he ought to be, the cause will be found, most probably, in his own hands. If we carefully weigh the conditions essential to the honourable reputation of any profession, or class of individuals, they will be found chiefly in the degree of moral cultivation demanded either by usage or by business. For this reason, the divine, the lawyer, and the phy- sician, pursue avocations held in the highest respect in every country where they are really learned professions. In these employments, the books to be consulted are numerous, and many of them in foreign 7 or dead languages. To the due comprehension of these, a good pre- liminary education is indispensable. The gentlemen therefore of law, divinity, and medicine, are generally possessed of a considerable degree of classical learning, which, elevating their taste, and refining their sentiments, renders them both agreeable and instructive com- panions, and makes them welcome, as such, to the "best society, of which they become an essential and important part. But to the suc- cessful cultivation of most, if not all, of the mechanic arts, a prelimi- nary education, beyond the mere elements of the vernacular lan- guage, has unfortunately not been esteemed necessary; and hence, as a class, mechanics have not been noted for those companionable qualities, which, giving zest and grace to society, render their posses- sor a desirable acquisition. How seldom is a youth, destined for a handicraft business, found passing through the ordinary routine of a college course, or employed in the acquisition of the foreign langua- ges, in which may be found written much which, as an artist, it would import him to know. The loss thus sustained, is of much greater importance than, on a superficial observation, may be made to appear. It is in the gentle breast of tractable childhoodj that we must plant the seeds of the tender and delicate sentiments. It is then alone that the mind receives a graceful flexibility, and imbibes a taste for elegant pursuits, and refined sentiments. Our original nature is so rough, selfish, and cold, that it requires years of sentimental culti- vation, to tutor it into the smoothness, self-denial, and generous warmth, so essential to the harmony, the elegance, and the interest, of social intercourse. This is almost instantly perceived by an un- educated man, when brought, by the force of circumstances, into the presence of those who have enjoyed the invaluable blessing of a good education. If he is observant, he will be forcibly struck with the charms of good society, and will lament, as thousands have done, that the opportunity of acquiring such things is gone, gone for ever. Although there are men so constituted by nature, as to need little polish from the study of the schools, and the example of cultivated minds, they are not common;—and the fine lines of Pope will be found generally true— '"Tis education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined." When we carefully examine this passage, we are struck with the ex- ception implied by the word " common." Pope, who has written on the ruling passion, knew well, that men of peculiar moral conforma- tion, could not be formed by education, but used education for the promotion of favourite pursuits. Examples of men rising superior to the obstacles of ignorance and poverty, into a surprising degree of consequence, are however much more common, than those of es- cape from the contamination of early bad-manners, to agreeable ease, and acceptable social elegance. But even such instances, if more common, should not prevent a parent who designs his son for a me- chanical pursuit, from giving him, if practicable, a good classical education. Such a course would appear singular at first, but if gen- 8 erally followed, would cease to attract notice; and the favourable difference in the social consequence of a highly educated mechanic, would attract a crowd of imitators; and after no very protracted pe- riod, the artificial barrier now left standing between various classes of society, would be broken down; and the last relics of our feudal origin, and transatlantic prejudices would be extinguished. That, however, must be done by the mechanics themselves. They must cultivate the means of advancement, to be advanced ; and cannot ra- tionally complain, if, having deprived their sons of the ordinary ac- complishments of good society, they should be kept out of it by a sense of their own inferiority, or the good taste of those who com- pose it. It may be said that a mechanic has not time for the pursuit of classical and elegant literature, and that, if possessed, it could not promote the interests of his business. There is time. If a boy, whose mind has been disciplined by education, and whose intellect has been sharpened by exercise in the schools, be finally sent to the study of a trade, he will not only learn it in a shorter time, but he will learn it better, less mechanically, and more intellectually. It will scarcely be denied that as much time is necessary to learn the science of medicine, as to acquire a knowledge of any other art whatever; yet we perceive, that in three or four years, a clever student of physic possesses himself of an amount of science, which would appear incredible to one unused to the acquisitive power of early training, and habitual mental exertion. The preliminary moral gymnasium of his classical schools, gives such force, flexibility, and retentiveness to his faculties, as to enable him to do, in three or four years, what, without such preparation, he could not, even if at all possible, accomplish in twice as many. If such an education were usual with mechanics, it would afford them a new and elegant recreation, without diminishing their zeal for their art. And as their art would, by such means, become itself more respectable, they would not feel themselves degraded in its pursuit. In a solitary road of upper Virginia, I was attracted by the appearance of a Yankee pedlar, who, with great enthusiasm, recited verses from a copy of Virgil, descriptive of a scene similar to a very striking one then before him. 1 naturally inquired into the history of such an individual, so engaged. He informed me that his father had given him a good classical and philosophical education, and had brought him up to the business of a tin-smith. At this trade he had worked assiduously for many years, during which he had beguiled his hours of leisure by classical reading. " Virgil, Sir," said he, " is my favourite author, and I never go on a journey without him. He is good company. He shortens the way, enlivens an evening or a rainy day at a tavern, and enables me to bear better the usual adver- sities of my diversified life. I make my tins myself, harness my horse, load my wagon, and journey now and then to the south to sell them." Here you see that a classical scholar, a man of taste, in fact a cultivated philosopher, was not ashamed to pursue a very common mechanical business, and he did it with skill and attention. It was 9 the custom of his home, familiar to him, and it elevated not only the individual but the business. Time too had been found, not only by him, but many others in his neighbourhood, to educate themselves classically before they entered on a trade. It does not appear that their time was lost, even with reference to their business, since they were quite as skilful in it as those who went to it early, and brought less sharpened understandings to the work. Even if money were the sole object of life, the chance of its at- tainment would not be lessened by a good preliminary education. But money can be valued properly only as the means of obtaining rational enjoyment. If, then, in a refined education, are found new sources of pleasure, new powers of promoting happiness, and re- spectability, we have one of the best things that money can buy.—a good, too, not as easily lost as money, and which, after our youth has gone by, cannot be purchased by the wealth of the world.— Bodily activity is so natural to youth, that all young animals are, when awake, in constant motion. It is almost impossible for one of riper years to follow a child through the evolutions of a single day. The little fellow, obedient to impulse, exerts every muscle, stimulates every nerve, trains every member, and every sense, for future use, and happily seldom requires either solicitation or instruction, to pre- pare himself physically for his part in the drama of life. Nor does nature forget to train, at the same time, his moral powers. The acquisition of knowledge made by the time a child teaches the end of its third year, is stupendous. But while the muscular education goes on as rapidly as ever, the moral exertion begins, from that pe- riod, to decline, and a less stimulated curiosity exerts over the men- tal faculties a less active control; and unless a systematic education be substituted for the waning discipline of nature, the mind becomes listless and less enterprizing, loses its habitual acuteness, and presents to the observer the man of nature, such as our aboriginal people, active, strong, cunning, incurious, ready for war, for hunting, or the dance, but averse to moral labour, and insusceptible of all the softer and more elevated enjoyments of life. The want of that cultivation, which, by exciting his more tender and graceful sentiments, best fits a man for the society of females, while it steals from him the sweetest and purest enjoyments, deprives those who have a right to expect better things at his hands, of all that delightful intercourse, which classical taste, and literary refine- ment can alone produce. Sensible of this, coarse and vulgar men are seldom found, at night-fall, within the precincts of home. Inca- pable of entering into the feelings, or of participating in the gentle pleasures of domestic life, they are found congregated together in lodges, at taverns, at shows, or theatres, or in any place where they may find refuge from vacuity in strong excitement. Their women are left to themselves, and all of a father which his child can know, is as an eating animal at meal times, and an absentee at night. Such is the result of a want of refined education in any class, or in almost any individual; and if large, and very important sections of society, voluntarily abstain from such improvement of themselves and their 2 10 children, although they may occasionally present, as I know they do, many very honourable examples to the contrary, yet, as a class, they must suffer loss, both in the means of happidess, and the estimation of society. The neglect of classical education, among those to whom it was formerly deemed an indispensable accomplishment, is among the most alarming signs of a decay in one of the most interesting departments of American civilization. By degrees, merchants and others engaged in pursuits not immediately dependant on classical learning, have im- bibed the opinion, that an acquaintance with elegant literature dis- qualifies a man for business, and that few of those who have a clas- sical taste or predilection, succeed in the active duties of life. It is true, that when a man gives superior attention to his amusements of an}' kind, and postpones his occupation and his interest, for his plea- sures, he will fall short of success. A theatre—a grog-shop—a club, may also trench too much on a man's time and attention, and work his ruin more effectually than Milton or Homer, and that too without leaving him those bright fragments of enjoyment which, amidst bro- ken fortunes, remain for him who has preserved his innocency and his taste. The objections to learning, like the objections to all that is good in itself, are necessarily derived solely from its abuse, and ought not to militate against its use. In Europe, many of the mer- chants, whose financial skill has filled the world with their renown, are men of high finish and elegant accomplishments; and in Boston, it is a very common thing to find the student of Greek and Latin clas- sics, in the compting-house, there distinguished for the skilfulness of his speculations, and the wealth acquired by his wisdom. With us, unfortunately, the opinion of its hurtfulness leaves us but few oppor- tunities to judge of its value, and unless we soon divest ourselves of this absurd prejudice, we shall not be able to find at home, the semi- naries in which it will be possible to recover our lost ground. Al- ready they present strong symptoms of decay, and in a few years, unless the working classes will in this, as they do now in many other things, set a noble example to those who have voluntarily divested themselves of the only rational ground of distinction, our colleges and classical schools must entirely disappear. In the city of Phila- delphia, there are probably not less than thirty thousand families. If in each of one-third of these families, there exists one young man of a fit age for college, we have at least from five to ten thousand young men qualified by age, at least, to be in the course of education in such an institution. But will it not surprise you when I say, that Philadelphia does not send to all the colleges of the Union, a number of young men sufficient, if collected together, to well support one single institution. Since I have been familiar with this subject, there have not been more than one hundred and fifty youths of Philadel- phia, at one time, at all the colleges of the Union. Nor has this arisen from a deficiency of skill in the professors, either here or elsewhere. At this moment, our own University is rich in the means of instruction, and at a rate which would not tax severely the purse of the poorest master-mechanic; and I do trust that, in a very few 11 years, the Institution, in whose Hall I now address you, will present still cheaper access to elegant, as it now does to scientific education. Amidst so many things to admire in us and our institutions, even the most friendly foreigner observes with regret our deficiency in elegant literature, and the consequent infrequency of writers of taste. We are free, well informed, industrious, affluent, ingenious; but we are grave, deficient in enthusiasm, and almost wanting in the higher graces of conversation and literature, to which society owes, else- where, its greatest charm, and without wbich, we lose much of the Bweetest enjoyments of life. Much as I love my home, greatly as, on the whole, I prefer this, my native land, to every other, and I have seen them nearly all, still, knowing as I do, the great enjoyment to be found in that society where the mind of almost every one is refined by acquaintance with the polite writers of every age and country, I cannot resist the feeling of regret at the loss we volunta- rily incur, nor can I refrain from expressing the hope, that the time is not far distant, when high refinement, and manual labour will not be found incompatible, and when our mechanics will be entitled, in the very best sense of the word, to the name of gentlemen. Coarseness and vulgarity are disgusting, even to the vulgar, for there is no man, however gross himself, who does not feel pleased at the improved manners and literary attainments of his son; just as there scarcely ever existed a drunkard who did not love to see his child averse to the destructive vice to which he had himself become the victim. Highly as we may estimate classical education, as a means for the advancement of the happiness, the worth, and the companionableness of the mechanic,' there is another department of learning, still more essential to his professional interests. Science, as contradistinguished from learning, enters into every, even the humblest and simplest me- chanical occupation. Not to mention those trades in which it is ob- viously applicable, such as instrument making, clock making, machine making, &c, men engaged in leather dressing, dying, tanning, full- ing, &c. are constantly employing scientific processes, and do this bet- ter, or worse, with more or less prospect of inventive, or judicious results, according to the greater or less familiarity with their princi- ples. That mechanics have not closely studied philosophy, is attributable chiefly to the thraldom of prejudice, and the disabilities which, created in feudal times, are not yet removed, even in our own age and coun- try. In other countries, and at a more remote period, philosophy was the privilege of but a few, to whom hereditary wealth, or profes- sional necessity brought the boos. Experimental philosophy, at least, was taught in but a few expensive seats of learning, to which scarcely any one but a member of the hereditary aristocracy, could find ac- cess on any terms. It was then impossible for a boy, devoted by his pursuits to any manual occupation, to obtain admittance to such places of instruction, and, if possible, the enormous expense operated as a preventive; for if that could be afforded, the then profits of the anticipated trade would have rendered it inexpedient. That which was, in former ages, a necessary ignorance, became, as it were, a 12 badge of degradation, and illiteracy and labour were so commonly united, as to be esteemed inseparable. So hurtful is this evil, in the eyes of some of the greatest men now alive, that they have almost devoted themselves to the duty of en- lightening and reforming a class essentially the most important to the interests and welfare of society. Lord Brougham, Dr. Birkbeck, &c. are now labouring hard to make knowledge cheap and accessible, and to persuade the artificers of all kinds to throw off* the shackles of the worst description of tyranny, that of professional ignorance and apa- thy. In this they have succeeded to a very remarkable degree, and while we are boasting of the revolution which gave us the mastery of ourselves, we are submitting, even yet, to the most degrading influ- ence of the mechanical and aristocratic institutions of the country from which we were delivered, and I fear, permitting the people from whom we separated to outstrip us in that kind of knowledge which is the true source of individual advancement and national prosperity. Within a very few years, however, a new spirit begins to pervade the labouring classes of our city, and at length, desirous of advanc- ing to the station long since accorded to them by our national insti- tutions, they seem resolved to prepare themselves for their profes- sions, in the same philosophic manner as the divine, the lawyer, or the physician. This is as it should be; for otherwise it would appear singular to boast of our national independence in language which, itself expressive of ignorance, betrays the lamentable dependence on foreign influences of the basest and most dishonourable character. The time has at length I hope come, when profession will be no longer a plea for ignorance, or trade an excuse for coarseness and rudeness. Henceforth, a mechanic, ignorant of the principles on which his art is founded, will scarcely be better tolerated than would a physician who should dare to practice his art, when convicted of ignorance of the philosophy of the circulation of the blood. While debarred the schools of science, by the exclusiveness of the aristocrat, or the high price of learning, he might be pardoned for an unavoidable ignorance; but now, when science opens her arms to receive him, and beckons him to her temple, he must enter her honourable courts, or blame himself alone for his exclusion. And if despised by those who have embraced the rejected opportunities, he finds himself lowered on the scale of society, let him remember that, in our country at least, it is impossible to support long any other distinctions than those of talent and learning, and that he will be considered most noble, who is so indeed, and he most agreeable and most welcome, who by great cul- tivation, has possessed himself of the affluence of the powers of pleas- ing. The revolution begun in T6, will not be completed until the artificial barriers of society, instituted in Europe, have been entirely overthrown; and that can be done solely through that cultivation which will render them unnecessary. In Europe, a vulgar and igno- rant man may be found among an hereditary aristocracy, and be sus- tained by the privileges of his class; but here, such distinctions have happily vanished, and such a man will, whatever his wealth, or his profession, sink into merited contempt. 13 I feel greatly encouraged by the zealous and untiring pursuit of knowledge evinced in the class I am now addressing. Every night, regardless of the inclemency of the weather, you have filled this spa- cious hall to its very walls, and have expressed no impatience at de- monstrations necessarily prolonged, and often deficient in direct interest. All this augurs well for the future, and promises us a har-/- vest, of which the good seed will be again sown for future increase. Let the mechanics of one generation be, as they should be, philo- sophically educated, and, in America at least, such an education will become forever indispensable. You have, therefore a double incen- tive to exertion. Your own respectability and interest, and the ele- vation of the character and pursuits of your successors for all future time, seem to be now in your hands, and in improving yourselves, you will benefit and exalt your country. If the magnificent bequest of the late Mr. Girard should be applied as it ought to be, I think the mechanics will receive an impulse from an unexpected quarter. It is now almost certain that the orphan chil- dren who are to enter the Girard College, will be carefully educated in classical learning, and fundamental philosophy, and will most of them afterwards engage in operative pursuits. They will soon form a numerous body of mechanics of the very best quality, and render an equally good education imperative to others; for be assured, as you may be by the many, fine examples already among yourselves, that exactly in proportion to the intelligence and skill of the work- man, will be his success in business. The doctor may practice un- worthily, yet extensively, his hidden art; the merchant may, by good fortune, succeed, without education, in his adventures abroad, and his speculations at home; but the mechanic must, in his less eventful occupation, depend for success on his merit and his skill, and these will be proportionate to his natural and his cultivated faculties. His defects, if they exist, cannot be concealed, and his good qualities must be apparent in his productions. These always speak an intelli- gible language, and are generally of a very obvious character. Every thing around us which relates to the advancement of the ope- rative arts, is of an auspicious character. That is, indeed, amidst the existing tendency to the decline of literature amongst us, a subject of unfeigned exultation, because it is not possible that a general sci- entific movement on the part of the mechanics, should be unaccom- panied by an improvement in the education of every other class of society. That part of society which has unfortunately been permit- ted to monopolize the classical distinctions, will not tamely see you transcend them in science, but entering on a very honourable and profitable competition, brighten themselves and stimulate you. This is the only warfare which should be conducted by various classes of society, among us, and its end should be the triumphant success of all. It is vain for one section of society, in our country at least, to envy another its superiority or its influence These follow knowledge and manners as naturally as the brightening of the face of the landscape does the rising of the morning sun of spring. By numbers, a set of 14 educated men may be divested of power, or consequence, but it will only be to put another set of the very same kind in their places, and those who have made the change, if themselves uneducated, will not be benefited by the alteration. While society maintains the forms of orderly government, such is the case in all free communities. Monarchies and oligarchies present occasional exceptions, and some- times during the reign of civil commotion, spirits, from the vasty depths of ignorance, rise, through extraordinary force of character, to ephemeral exaltation. Sooner or later, however, the natural tide of events flows on, and those best qualified to guide the councils, and direct the destinies of society, will be found at the helm, through the spontaneous choice, too, of those who have not prepared themselves for the station. To obtain a share of power, to become eligible com- panions, welcome associates, to raise the credit of the class, and wipe off* from it the involuntary stains brought from feudal times, and foreign countries, and to remove the badges of mental degradation, voluntarily assumed even here, the mechanics must not waste the time in unavailing regrets, and useless jealousies, but, buckling on the armour of learning, and seizing the sword of science, advance to the combat for an equal station, with that ardour which must con- quer, and that knowledge which will make the victory honourable to themselves and glorious to the country—the whole country—and I was going to say, nothing but the country. But no! no! that will be a victory auspicious to the world. So grand a spectacle is seldom seen in the universe. A whole community of mechanics, refined by literature, polished by good society, illuminated by philosophy, en- joying all the pleasures and honours of education, and carrying the arts irresistibly forward, to a degree of excellence of which the pre- sent age, with all its hurrying progression, sees but the beginning. That cause, once well begun, can have no limits but those of the world, no overthrow but that which must come to all things, when " Time shall be no longer." So truly honourable a result, will throw back great reflective credit on the institutions in which originated the efforts for melioration: and among such institutions, none will probably, in our country, hold a higher rank than the Franklin Institute of Pennsylvania. It is but a very few years since a small number of individuals, most of them yet young, conceived the idea of affording, at a cheap rate, the sci- ences to the working classes, and all others who might be unable to apply to more expensive places of learning. With almost incredible zeal, did they collect the funds, and erect on a lot purchased in a central situation, the noble edifice in which I have now the honour of addressing you. A Board of Managers was elected, a Committee of Instruction appointed, and the best teachers sought for and found. Many of you must remember the zeal and skill with which Doctor Thomas P. Jones conducted the course of experimental philosophy, and practical mechanics; and with how much admirable science Pro- fessor Keating combined the power of throwing charms around the processes and the theories of chemistry. Professor Franklin Bache,* * Now. Prof, of Chem. and Pharm in the College of Pharm. 15 who followed him, is yet agreeably remembered for his profound knowledge, exact method, and exemplary precision; for the efforts which he made to call your attention from the striking experiment to its connexion with, and illustration of, the great principles of the science. Of the deep research, and instructive course of my present fellow labourer, Professor Johnson,* I could say much which would meet with a ready response from a class, which has acquired the title to estimate their merits, and unquestionably is inclined to fully ap- preciate their great desert. At the call of the government, Mr. Frank- lin Pealef has gone abroad to examine and report on the processes pursued in the mints of other countries, and for the past season we have been deprived of his ingenious, amusing, and instructive lec- tures. But Doctor Emerson,^ and Mr. Millington,§ have filled up his evening by discourses at once improving to you, and most credit- able to themselves. It is not alone, however, to the lecture-room that the merit of the Franklin Institute is confined. Through the aid of the committee on publications,[| and the variety and extent of his own accomplishments, Dr. Jones is enabled to conduct, in the name of the institution, a Journal remarkably well calculated for the promotion of know- ledge among mechanics, and the furtherance of the scientific reputa- tion of the country. That Journal is not only read with advantage at home, but is often, in the most flattering manner, quoted by the best scientific journals abroad. It has continued, for several years, an unwearied flight, and, as yet, has moulted no feather of its well- earned reputation. I need not fear reasonable contradiction when I say that no similar institution has sustained so long, and so well, an equal magazine. In addition to these claims to public estimation, the Franklin In- stitute has conducted, and is now conducting, toilsome and very ex- pensive experiments on some of the most important questions in prac- tical science. With much labour, and great expense, experiments have been made on most of the requisites of water wheels and adju- tages,^ so as to finally settle a point of great importance to every one who employs water power in the movement of machinery of any kind. The unfinished report of the committee on this subject, is a master- piece of its kind. The investigation-of, and report on, weights and measures,** made by request of the House of Representatives of the State of Pennsyl- vania, adds a new claim, on the part of the institution, to public ap- probation, while the committee on steam explosions,tt will soon put * Prof, of Nat. Philos. f Lect. on Practical Mechanics. 1 On Meteorology. § On Astronomy. || Committee on Publications.—Prof. A. D. Bacbe, Isaac Hays, M. D., 3. V. Merrick, M. W. Baldwin, Rufus Tyler. If Committee on Water Power.—S. V. Merrick. Benj. Reeves, Isaiah Lukens, Rufus Tyler, An- drew Yonng, M. W. Baldwin, John Levering, John Agnew, Saml. Hains, Jas. P. Espy, Fredk. Graff, James. J. Rush, W. H. Keating, Prof. Alex D. Bache. ** Committee on Weights and Measures.—Prof. Alex. D. Bache, S. V, Merrick, W. H. Keating, Rufus Tyler, M. W. Baldwin, Benj. Say, Asa Spencer, Abrm. Miller, Thos. P. Jones, M. D., Prof. Robt. M. Patterson, S. C. Walker, Benj. Stancliff. Thns. M'Ewen, M. D., Edm. Draper, David H. Mason, Benj. Reeves, Predk. Fraley, Saml. Hains, Saml. Moore, M. D. It Committee on the Explosions of Steam Boilers.—Prof. Alex. D. Bache, Prof. Robt. Hare.S. V. Merrick, W. H. Keating, IsaiahLukens, Jas. J. Rush, Jas. Ronaldson, Predk. Graff,.Prof. Robert M. Patterson, Prof. J. K. Mitchell, Benj» Reeves, George Fox, Thos. P. Jones, M. D., Prof. W. R. Johnson, M. W. Baldwin, James P. Espy, Geo. Merrick. 16 in another, of no inconsiderable weight, for an indefatigable, hazard- ous, and expensive series of experiments, under the patronage of the government of the United States, most ingeniously diversified. A very great deal of the labour and skill applied to these investigations, has been bestowed by private members of the Institute, unpaid, and without any other motive than that of doing good to society. I have made this exposition of the doings of the Franklin Institute, not for the vanity of the display, but for the sake of justice, and ex- ample. Our own citizens, perhaps even the members of the Insti- tute, have not been fully aware of the extent, variety, and importance of its public services, nor acquainted with the honourable nature of its claim to the support and countenance of our community. It might be supposed that I had now stated all the merits of the Institution; but when I look to the left, and see before me a large proportion of females, attentively engaged in receiving instruction, I cannot refrain from exulting in the prospect of great gain from their example, as well as their improvement. It has been said, and I be- lieve most justly, that the character of the child is formed or de- formed by the example and instruction of the mother. She is in- trusted with the discipline of thought, at that critical period of life, when, through the flexibility of the mind, a bent is easily given to character, and the young ideas just begin to shoot. It is her care to protect the tender blossoms of thought and feeling, to prune rank luxuriancy, encourage honourable sentiment, and kindle the love of labour, and the taste for learning. She should not be found often unable to satisfy the curiosity of her child; nor should his eager thirst after knowledge be destroyed by the oft repeated declaration of impatient ignorance. How many Newtons have been wither- ed in the bud—how many Franklins consigned to obscurity by the presence and the influence of a mother, who, herself totally ignor- ant of the value of knowledge, feels no disposition to encourage in her child, the love of science, or a taste for the arts!—Oh ! if a mother in feeling, ought she not to long to brighten in the bosom of her child, a taste, which, while it will afford him many an hour of delightful recreation, and open to him an agreeable path to honoura- ble distinction and public usefulness, will also shield him from the thousand snares of vice set for the idle, the ignorant, and the obscure. But more ! many, very many of those who now hear me, pursue the creditable and useful profession of teachings and are, like the honey- bee on his flowery embassy, abstracting the sweets of learning, to carry them home to a busy and eager school, to be again scattered far and wide, for the benefit of society. This is the compound in- terest of learning—the field which produces a thousand fold. Let Philadelphia, justly proud of this Institution, so munificent of good, continue to carefully foster it; and let the mechanics, to whom it more especially belongs, forget not, that it is the first great step of their advancement to their proper station in society, and cherish it as at once most useful to them, and most creditable to their char- acter. If we should, by the permission of a kind Providence, again meet 17 in this place, you will find me prepared to extend and improve the system of instruction in my department. I have caused to be made models of buildings, and implements used in the arts, which, for want of time, I could not exhibit during the present session. In the next course, I shall be able to present to you the interior of the glass- house, the pottery, and the iron-furnace, displayed in sectional models, in which will be made readily comprehensible, the various processes by which glass, china-ware, and iron, are produced. 1 have no doubt that my able colleague will make at least equal exertion to improve and extend his course, and that the next season will greatly exceed the last, in the value and variety of its instruction. The least agreeable part of my task remains. I am now to take a final leave of you for the season. In doing so, let me not forget to thank you for the polite and quiet attention paid to my feeble endea- vours to please and instruct you; for the patience with which you have borne disquisitions necessarily tedious, the respectful silence during the hour of lecture, and the avoidance, at its close, of any noisy demonstration of a satisfaction, not unknown to your teacher, but conveyed in a manner worthy of the place, of yourselves, and of the cause of science. These things console me for the toil, expense, and inconvenience, of a course, which, under the pressure of heavy professional engagements, has not been conducted in such a manner as either to benefit my purse, or economise my exertion. Yet, thanks to you, I feel amply compensated for these sacrifices, by the persuasion that society is benefited, and that you are kind enough to be satisfied with my exertions. And now, permit me to wish you a prosperous summer, useful, agreeable, and profitable pursuits, and a return to the course of the next season, more highly prepared to receive instruction yourselves and to convey it successfully to others. CO \ *