An Address delivered before the Members of the American Institute. By the Rev. Orville Dewey. Published at the request of the Institute.
It was our good fortune to form one of the dense auditory before whom this excellent Address was delivered; and although we are unable to convey to the reader an adequate idea of the effect its verbal publication produced, we may nevertheless afford a 'taste of its quality,' by a few choice extracts. We were pleased, at the very opening, to perceive that the Address was not to embrace political questions, connected with the arts of industry, nor to be a compendium of minute statistics, relating to the Institute, and manufactures in general—a course so common on such occasions. 'Figures cannot lie,' perhaps, but they can do things quite as disagreeable. Mere statistics are dismal bores to great masses, oftentimes, in the hands of matter-of-fact, hum-drum speakers, oppressively full of information; reminding the hearer of Swift's elixir, 'which being drank, presently dilates itself about the brain of the orator, whence instantly proceed an infinite number of abstracts, summaries, compendiums,' etc., all reducible upon paper, and fruitful of the most potent oscitant qualities. How many new members of Congress, who felt it their duty to attend to the public weal, in gratitude to their constituents, have been wakened by the watchful sergeant-at-arms, after the house had adjourned, from a deep sleep which had fallen upon them, as they 'by parcels something heard, but not attentively,' of 'figure-works and statistics,' from some arithmetical debater! 'In 1834, Sir, before the passage of the law creating the 'North American Window-Glass and Putty Company,' owing to the high price of putty in the United States, there were in ten counties in the state of Mississippi, nine hundred and sixty-two windows and a half, utterly destitute of glass; and it is worth stating, as a remarkable fact, that of the three hundred and twenty-seven panes which were fastened with a cheap adhesive substitute, the large number of two hundred and eighty-three were utterly useless. That putty—I say that putty, Mr. Speaker—would not stick!' And thus proceeds the bore statistical,[16] in a speech 'thin sown with profit or delight.' But we are keeping the reader from 'metal more attractive.'
After a felicitous exordium, descriptive of the scene which the Fair presented to the eye of the spectator, the writer proceeds to consider the connection between the arts of industry, and especially the mechanic arts, and the intellectual and moral improvement of society. He shows that the mechanic, laboring at his work-bench, is toiling for the general improvement; that the man who designs and erects a noble structure, speaks to passing multitudes, who may never read a book, and helps to refine and humanize the ages that come after him; that 'even he who makes a musical instrument, is laying up, in those hidden chambers of melody, the sweet influences that shall amuse, and soften, and refine many a domestic circle through life; and he, yet more, who can place upon our walls the canvass glowing with life, becomes the household teacher of successive generations.' The orator next repudiates the idea, that labor-saving machinery has ever been the cause of permanently injuring the working-classes; and this position he clearly establishes, by a variety of well-chosen illustrations. A few remarks succeed, in relation to improvements in matters of comfort and economy, of which advantage might be taken by American house-keepers. The French bed, consisting of two thin matresses of wool, upon a foot deep of hay or straw, is pronounced to be four times as cheap as ours, and twice as comfortable. One half of the fuel, too, which is burnt in this country, the writer avers, is literally thrown away, the heat passing into the dead wall of the chimney. This is doubtless true. The excellent stoves of Dr. Nott, however, now so generally demanded in all parts of the country, from his capable successors, Messrs. Stratton and Seymour, of this city, have done much toward awakening attention to the great economy of heat and fuel, which they exemplify and inculcate.
Labor, the writer justly contends, exercises and tasks the intellect; and he repels, with proper earnestness and force, the too common error, that the mind never labors, save over the written page or the abstract proposition. 'The merchant, the manufacturer, the mechanic, is often a harder thinker than the student. The machinist and the engineer are employed in some of the finest schools of intellect.' The tasks for which no such consideration can be pleaded, such as the dull, heavy labors of the hod, the writer humanely hopes some method may yet be found to relieve.
Could any thing be more admirably reasoned, or more beautifully set forth, than the arguments in favor of the true nobility of labor, contained in the annexed paragraphs:
"How many natural ties are there between even the humblest scene of labor, and the noblest affections of humanity! In this view, the employment of mere muscular strength is ennobled. There is a central point in every man's life, around which all his toils and cares revolve. It is that spot which is consecrated by the names of wife, and children, and home. A secret and almost imperceptible influence from that spot, which is like no other on earth, steals into the breast of the virtuous laboring man, and strengthens every weary step of his toil. Every blow that is struck in the work-shop and the field, finds an echo in that holy shrine of his affections. If he who fights to protect his home, rises to the point of heroic virtue, no less may he who labors, his life long, to provide for that home. Peace be within those domestic walls, and prosperity beneath those humble roofs! But should it ever be otherwise; should the time ever come when the invader's step approaches to touch those sacred thresholds, I see in the labors that are taken for them, that wounds will be taken for them too; I see in every honest workman around me, a hero.
"So material do I deem this point—the true nobility of labor, I mean—that I would dwell upon it a moment longer, and in a larger view. Why, then, in the great scale of things, is labor ordained for us? Easily, had it so pleased the great Ordainer, might it have been dispensed with. The world itself might have been a mighty machinery for the production of all that man wants. The motion of the globe upon its axis might have been the power, to move that world of machinery. Ten thousand wheels within wheels might have been at work; ten thousand processes, more curious and complicated than man can devise, might have been going forward without man's aid; houses might have risen like an exhalation,
——'with the sound
Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet,
Built like a temple;'gorgeous furniture might have been placed in them, and soft couches and luxurious banquets spread, by hands unseen; and man, clothed with fabrics of nature's weaving, richer than imperial purple, might have been sent to disport himself in these Elysian palaces. 'Fair scene!' I imagine you are saying; 'fortunate for us, had it been the scene ordained for human life!' But where then, tell me, had been human energy, perseverance, patience, virtue, heroism? Cut off with one blow from the world; and mankind had sunk to a crowd, nay, far beneath a crowd of Asiatic voluptuaries. No, it had not been fortunate. Better that the earth be given to man as a dark mass whereon to labor. Better that rude and unsightly materials be provided in the ore-bed and the forest, for him to fashion into splendor and beauty. Better, I say, not because of that splendor and beauty, but because the act creating them is better than the things themselves; because exertion is nobler than enjoyment; because the laborer is greater and more worthy of honor than the idler. I call upon those whom I address, to stand up for that nobility of labor. It is heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken down; and it has been broken down for ages. Let it then be built up again; here if any where, on these shores of a new world, of a new civilization. 'But how,' I may be asked, 'is it broken down?' 'Do not men toil?' it may be said. They do indeed toil, but they too generally do it because they must. Many submit to it as, in some sort, a degrading necessity, and they desire nothing so much on earth, as escape from it." * * * "This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system; under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy work-shop and dusty labor-field; of thy hard hand, scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to nature; it is impiety to heaven; it is breaking heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat—Toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility!"
The orator next passes to the policy and necessity of extending a fostering care to the domestic industry of families, on their own property, and laments the want of employment, oftentimes, for the female members, who are in this country generally unwilling to seek it beyond the paternal roof. Manufactures, as of woollen cloths, stockings, etc. the culture of the mulberry, and the making of silk, are recommended as purely domestic occupations. The suggestions in regard to the disposition of our ample supply of water, when the Croton shall roll its refreshing stores into the metropolis, are conceived in a far-seeing and liberal spirit, and deserve earnest heed. We need not ask the reader to admire with us the subjoined extract, illustrating the advantages and comforts which have followed in the train of mechanical improvements:
"Our steam-boats and rail-roads are tending constantly to make us a more homogeneous, sympathizing, and humane people. A visit to one's distant friends, every body knows, is a very pleasant thing; but are its uses in the great family of society often considered? Intercourse, in such circumstances, is usually an interchange of all the thoughts, views, and improvements that prevail in different parts of the country. 'Their talk is of oxen,' if you please, or it is of soils and grains, or it is of manufactures and trade, or it is of books and philosophers; but it is all good—good for somebody at least—good in the main for every body. Thus, our steam-boats are like floating saloons, and our rail-roads like the air-pipes of a mighty whispering gallery; and men are conversing with one another, and communicating and blending their daily thoughts, throughout the whole length and breadth of the land. These means of communication are thus constantly interchanging, not only different views, but the advantages of different kinds of residence. They are imparting rural tastes to the citizen, and city polish to the countryman. I cannot help thinking, that in time, they will produce a decided effect upon city residence; relieving us, somewhat, of our crowded and overgrown population; sending out many from these pent-up abodes in town, to the green and pleasant dwelling places of the country.
"The progress of communication during the last twenty years, leaves us almost nothing to wish, and yet entitles us to expect every thing. Many of you remember what a passage up the Hudson was, thirty years ago. You remember the uncertain packet, lingering for a wind at the wharf, till patience was almost exhausted; and then, at length, pursuing its zigzag course, now waving in the breeze, now halting in the calm, like a crazy traveller, doubtful of his way, or whether to proceed at all. And now, when you set your foot on the deck of one of our newly invented fire-ships, you feel as if the pawings of some reined courser were beneath you, impatient to start from the goal; anon, it seems to you as if the strength and stride of a giant were bearing you onward; till at length, when the evening shadow falls, and hides its rougher features from your sight, you might imagine it the queenly genius of the noble river, as it moves on between the silent shores, and flings its spangled robe upon the waters."
Scarcely less beautiful, are the following reflections upon the moral tendencies of the mechanic arts, in leading the mind to the infinite wisdom of Nature and of the Author of Nature:
"If an intelligent manufacturer or mechanic would carefully note down in a book all the instances of adaptation that presented themselves to his attention, he would in time have a large volume; and it would be a volume of philosophy—a volume of indisputable facts in defence of a Providence. I could not help remarking lately, when I saw a furnace upon the stream of the valley, and the cartman bringing down ore from the mountains, how inconvenient it would have been if this order of nature had been reversed; if the ore-bed had been in the valley, and the stream had been so constituted as to rise, and to make its channel upon the tops of the ridges. Nay, more; treasures are slowly prepared and carefully laid up in the great store-houses of nature, against the time when man shall want them. When the wood is cut off from the plains and the hills, and fuel begins to fail, and man looks about him with alarm at the prospect, lo! beneath his feet are found, in mines of bitumen and mountains of anthracite, the long hid treasures of Providence—the treasure-houses of that care and kindness, which at every new step of human improvement, instead of appearing to be superseded, seems doubly entitled to the name of Providence." * * * "All nature is not only a world of mechanism, but it is the work of infinite art; and the mechanic-inventor and toiler is but a student, an apprentice in that school. And when he has done all, what can he do to equal the skill of the great original he copies; to equal the wisdom of Him who 'has stretched out the heavens like a curtain, who has laid the beams of his chambers in the waters!' What engines can he form, like those which raise up through the dark labyrinths of the mountains, the streams that gush forth in fountains from their summits? What pillars, and what architecture can he lift up on high, like the mighty forest trunks, and their architrave and frieze of glorious foliage? What dyes can he invent, like those which spread their ever-changing and many-colored robe over the earth? What pictures can he cause to glow, like those which are painted on the dome of heaven?
"It is the glory of art, that it penetrates and develops the wonders and bounties of nature. It draws their richness from the valleys, and their secret stores from the mountains. It leads forth every year fairer flocks and herds upon the hills; it yokes the ox to the plough, and trains the fiery steed to its car. It plants the unsightly germ, and rears it into vegetable beauty; it takes the dull ore and transfuses it into splendour, or gives it the edge of the tool or the lancet; it gathers the filaments which nature has curiously made, and weaves them into soft and compact fabrics. It sends out its ships to discover unknown seas and shores; or it plunges into its work-shops at home, to detect the secret, that is locked up in mineral, or is flowing in liquid matter. It scans the spheres and systems of heaven with its far sight; or turns with microscopic eye, and finds in the drops that sparkle in the sun, other worlds crowded with life. Yet more is mechanic art the handmaid of society. It has made man its special favourite. It clothes him with fine linen and soft raiment. It builds him houses, it kindles the cheerful fire, it lights the evening lamp, it spreads before him the manifold page of wisdom; it delights his eye with gracefulness, it charms his ear with music; it multiplies the facilities of communication and ties of brotherhood; it is the softener of all domestic charities—it is the bond of nations."