IKi-r 
 
 V 
 
 ORATION 
 
 JOB DURFEE 
 SEPT, 6th 1845 
 

 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY AND INVENTION Otf 
 SOCIAL AND POLITICAL PROGRESS. 
 
 ORATION 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE THE 
 
 PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY 
 
 OF 
 
 BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 PROVIDENCE, R. I., 
 
 ON 
 
 COMMENCEMENT DAY, 
 
 SEPTEMBER 6, 1843. 
 
 By JOB DURFEE. 
 il 
 
 PROVIDENCE : 
 
 B. CRANSTON AND COMPANY* 
 
 1843. 
 
 tit 
 
ORATION. 
 
 GENTLEMEN OF THE SOCIETY : 
 
 The influence of discovery in science, and of in- 
 vention in art, on social and political progress, may 
 certainly form an appropriate theme for an occasion 
 like the present : and if, during the short time 
 which has been left to us by the preceding exercises 
 of the day, I should endeavor to draw your atten- 
 tion to this subject, rest assured that the attempt 
 will not be prompted by a confidence in any pecu- 
 liar qualifications of mine for the task, but from a 
 desire, in some manner, to fulfil a duty, which per- 
 haps with too little caution I undertook to perform. 
 
 We are disposed, I think, to ascribe too much of 
 human progress to particular forms of government 
 to particular political institutions, arbitrarily estab- 
 lished by the will of the ruler, or vvilk of the masses, 
 in accordance with some theoretic abstraction. And 
 this is natural enough in a country where popular 
 opinion makes the law. But, to the mind that has 
 formed the habit of penetrating beyond effects into 
 the region of causes, it may, I think, appear that 
 the will of the one, or the wills of the many, equally, 
 are under the dominion of a higher law than any 
 that they may ordain ; and that political and social 
 
 M368124 
 
preme Intelligence. And, if it be true, as I hope 
 to demonstrate, that their discoveries and inventions 
 rule in the grand course of events, it will afford 
 some consolation to reflect, that, whether govern- 
 ment falls into the hands of demagogue or despot, 
 (and it suffers equally from either,) this high order 
 of intellect doth, after all, by setting limits to their 
 follies, guide and govern in the main. To it we 
 bow with deferential awe to it we willingly own 
 allegiance, and are proud to confess ourselves its 
 subjects. 
 
 Time, indeed, was, when this order of mind 
 formed a union with government, and was itself 
 despotic, or was ruled by despotism. Such seems 
 to have been its condition in ancient Egypt such 
 may be its condition still, under those oriental gov- 
 ernments where every change must operate a social 
 disorganization ; but such, from the earliest date of 
 Grecian freedom, has never been its condition in 
 the sphere of Western civilization. It has been 
 subject to restraint, it has suffered persecution, but 
 it has formed no necessary part of any local gov- 
 ernment. It has been under no necessity of limit- 
 ing its discoveries or shaping its inventions, to suit 
 particular political or social organizations. At that 
 early date it cut its connexion with these, and, by 
 so doing, found the Archimedean stand-point and 
 lever, by which it is enabled to move the world. 
 
 But where and what is this point on which the 
 scientific intellect takes this commanding stand ? 
 It is not to be found in that space which can be 
 measured by a glance of the eye, or a movement 
 
of the hand. It is to be found only in the world of 
 mind ; and even there, only in that perfect reason, 
 which is at once a law to humanity, and the re- 
 vealer of all truth. It is a point which lies even 
 beyond the extravagant wish of Archimedes. Per- 
 haps he had unwittingly found it, when engaged in 
 the solution of that mathematical problem which 
 cost him his life ; when, whilst the streets of Syra- 
 cuse were thronged with bands of military plunder- 
 ers, and the Roman soldier, amid shouts of triumph, 
 entering his study, placed the sword at his throatj 
 he exclaimed, " Hold, friend, one moment, and my 
 demonstration will be finished." Far elevated above 
 local interests, far above the petty strife and confu- 
 sion of the day, it is a point, from whose Olympian 
 height, all humanity is seen dwindled to a unit. It 
 is in this elevation above the world and its turmoils, 
 that the scientific philosopher interrogates the deity 
 of truth, and communicates its oracles to the whole 
 nether humanity ; confident, that as they are true, 
 whatever may be their present effect, they will ulti- 
 mately promote the progress of the race. 
 
 Nor is he at liberty to abstain from interrogating 
 this deity ; to refrain from the efforts to discover, 
 and consequently to invent, whenever a discovery is 
 to be actualized by invention. That law which 
 prompts the mind spontaneously to search for the 
 cause of every effect, and for the most effectual 
 means for the accomplishment of the end, is not 
 superinduced by education. It comes from a source 
 above man ; it is constitutional, therefore irresisti* 
 
6 
 
 ble ; and he makes his discoveries and inventions 
 because he must make them. 
 
 Now the sciences and arts, comprehending not 
 merely the liberal and fine, but the physical and 
 useful, consist of a logical series of discoveries and 
 inventions, commenced at the earliest date of human 
 progress, and continued down to the present time, 
 the last grand result being the sum of all the labors 
 that have gone before it ; nay, not unfrequently the 
 sum of the blood and sufferings of the ignoble 
 masses, as well as of the labors of the exalted philo- 
 sophic mind. I mean not to say that this law of 
 reason, which impels man to discover and invent, 
 conducts him from step to step, from truth to truth, 
 in a direct line to the far result ; for he has his lib- 
 erty, and he often deviates, not for a day merely, 
 but for a generation ; nay, sometimes for a whole 
 epoch. But, however widely he may err, he at last 
 discovers the error of the first false step that he has 
 made ; his false premise is brought to its reductio 
 ad absurdum ; and, with the benefit of all the expe^ 
 rience, discipline, and knowledge that he has ac- 
 quired by pursuing it to this result, he returns to the 
 point of departure, and, with redoubled energy, 
 follows out the demonstration direct, to its quod 
 erat demonstrandum. 
 
 Gentlemen, excuse me, whilst on an occasion 
 so purely literary, I draw an illustration of this idea 
 from a thought suggested by an invention in a 
 branch of mechanic art. 
 
 I lately visited an establishment, perhaps in some 
 respects the first of the kind in our country, for the 
 
9 
 
 manufacture of iron into bars. I stood by, and for 
 the time, witnessed the operation of its enginery. I 
 saw the large misshapen mass of crude metal taken 
 blazing from the furnace, and passed through the 
 illumined air to the appropriate machine. I saw it 
 there undergo the designed transformation. It was 
 made to pass repeatedly between two grooved, re- 
 volving iron cylinders, of immense weight. At 
 every turn of the wheel it took new form ; it length- 
 ened, stretched, approximating still its intended 
 shape, till at the end of the operation it came forth 
 a well-fashioned fifteen or twenty foot bar of iron, 
 ready for the hand of the artizan, or the machine 
 that was to resolve it into forms for ultimate use. 
 
 When I had witnessed this process, I thought I did 
 not want to go to the banks of the Nile to be assured 
 either of the antiquity or the progress of the race. 
 An older than the pyramids was before me ; one 
 which, though voiceless, told a tale that commenced 
 before the Pharaohs, before the Memnon, before 
 Thebes. Here was a material which had been 
 common to the historical portion of the human family 
 for the space of five or six thousand years. Millions 
 on millions of minds had been tasked to improve the 
 process of its manufacture. I went back, in imagi- 
 nation, to that primitive age, when the first unskilful 
 hand some fur-clad barbarian or savage drew a 
 mass of the raw material from the side of some 
 volcanic mountain. He constructed a vessel of clay 
 for its reception, and, somewhat in imitation of the 
 process he had witnessed, he placed it over a heap 
 of blazing combustibles. With long and patient 
 2 
 
10 
 
 labor and care, he reduced it to a liquid mass ; and 
 then cast it into the shape of some rude implement 
 of husbandry or war. Exulting in his success, he 
 brandished the instrument in triumph, and deemed 
 it the ne plus ultra of human improvement. 
 
 He disappeared; but he left a successor. I fol- 
 lowed him, in imagination, and saw him take the art 
 at the point at which his predecessor had left it. He 
 had discovered that the material was not only fusible, 
 but ductile ; and with sweat and toil that knew no 
 fatigue, he gradually beat the heated mass into the 
 shape of something like a hatchet, or a sword. At 
 this point he also disappeared ; but his successor 
 came, and still improved on the labors of his prede- 
 cessor. Generation thus followed generation of apt 
 apprentices in the art ; they formed a community of 
 masters skilful to direct, and of servants prompt to 
 obey. They fashioned new implements as their num- 
 bers increased, and the wants of advancing civiliza- 
 tion varied and multiplied. The master-minds 
 studied, and studied successfully, all the various 
 qualities and susceptibilities of the metal. They 
 became skilful in all its various uses, in agriculture, 
 commerce, manufactures and war. Yes, ye philan- 
 thropists ! in war ! For humanity actually armed 
 herself against humanity to draw out and discipline 
 the faculties of the human mind, and bring the art to 
 perfection. She instituted a school of her own, and 
 was herself its stern and unyielding preceptress. 
 She chastened her laggard and truant children as 
 with a rod of iron. 1 saw her force her sons into 
 bondage by thousands aye, by millions. I saw 
 
11 
 
 them sweat and toil at the anvil like so many living 
 machines. They were once free barbarians ; but 
 they were now in the school of civilization. They 
 were learning something of the arts. They would 
 not labor from the love of labor, but only from con- 
 straint and fear. Their willing task-masters grew 
 strong and powerful in the labors of the barbarous 
 masses, that superior knowledge and power had sub- 
 jected to their will. They took counsel together, 
 and still went forth to conquer and enslave. Ages, 
 centuries, epochs passed away, and still the same 
 process was going on. They built up for themselves 
 a bright and glorious intellectual civilization, that 
 extended far and wide over the earth ; yet it was but 
 the gilding of the surface ; for it had its deep and 
 dark foundations upon mind in bondage, upon 
 masses in slavery. And their power grew feeble 
 from expansion. The numbers of the free would 
 not suffice to sustain their dominion. And they 
 sought for aid, but could conceive of none, save in 
 the enslaved masses beneath them. And now came, 
 improved by long ages of civilization, the scientific 
 and inventive genius to their aid. She glanced back 
 upon the past ; she discovered the point of departure 
 from the progress direct, and the source of the errors 
 whence this appalling result. She sought, and sought 
 not in vain, to substitute the brute forces of nature 
 for the labor of human hands. Then began the 
 water-wheel to turn at the falls, and the trip-hammer 
 to sound upon the anvil, and the manacles of the 
 slave to fall off, as improvement was built upon im- 
 provement, in regular consecutive order, till the 
 
12 
 
 burning bar shot from the perfected machinery al- 
 most unaided by human strength. 
 
 This brought me to the process which I had just 
 witnessed, and I thought I saw in it the grand result 
 of the discipline and labor of the race for thousands 
 of years. 1 thought I saw in it, not only the reality 
 of a progress in the race, but the unquestionable 
 proof of the existence of a law of progress, carrying 
 on its grand process through the whole humanity by 
 a logical series of causes and effects, from its earli- 
 est premises, in far distant antiquity, to its latest 
 result ; and that the law, which rules in discovery 
 and invention, is one and identical with that which 
 governs in the progress of the race. 
 
 I speak not here of particular communities or 
 nations, for nations, like men, decay and die but 
 of the whole humanity, which is as immortal as the 
 spirit of man, or, perhaps, as the divinity that rules 
 it ; which feeds and grows in one branch of its ex- 
 istence upon the decaying energies of another, and 
 which is thus ever renovating its vital and intellectual 
 energies out of the past, and, amid unceasing decay, 
 enjoying a perpetual rejuvenescence. On such an 
 existence doth this law of progress ever act ; con- 
 stantly forming and energizing the individual intel- 
 lect by the unceasingly accumulating wisdom of the 
 past, and by appropriating the forces of nature to 
 the uses of social man, it is, at this day, carrying on 
 in the world of mind that work of creation, which 
 the Divine Author of humanity did but commence 
 in the garden of Eden. 
 
13 
 
 There may be limits to man's capacities, but to 
 the energies of nature which those capacities, acting 
 under this law, may put in requisition, there are no 
 limits. Each new discovery in science suggests the 
 existence of something yet undiscovered ; each new 
 combination in art, on trial, suggests combinations 
 yet untried ; thus revealing, on the one hand, a law 
 of suggestion, which, from the nature of mind, must 
 ever act ; and, on the other, objects and subjects of 
 action which are as boundless, and as inexhaustible 
 as the universe. 
 
 Now if this be, and must continue to be the true 
 process of discovery and invention ; and if, in its 
 progress, as I hope to prove, it must constantly 
 reflect itself into all social and political organiza- 
 tions, we have an assurance of progress, not depend- 
 ent, thank Heaven, upon carrying to their results 
 any political abstractions, or any ideas of popular 
 sovereignty drawn from the perversions of revolu- 
 tionary France ; but upon a law of progress, which 
 God has ordained for the government of humanity, 
 and which is as certain and eternal in its operations 
 as any law which governs the material universe. 
 
 But let us see, by a brief glance at the page of 
 history, whether this law of progressive discovery 
 and invention, doth, or doth not, rule in social and 
 political progress. 
 
 And here permit me to premise, that the sciences 
 and the arts, considered with reference to social and 
 political progress, may be divided into two classes ; 
 first, those which are necessary or useful as aids or 
 instruments of thought and sentiment ; as among 
 
14 
 
 the sciences, grammar, rhetoric, logic, geometry; 
 and among the arts, music, poetry, painting, sculp- 
 ture, architecture, and the art of writing, or preserv- 
 ing the memory of the past. Second, those whose 
 immediate object it is to enlarge our knowledge 
 of nature, and improve the physical condition of 
 man. These are the physical sciences and useful 
 arts improved by science. In the progress of the 
 race, the first class is necessarily brought earliest to 
 perfection. Man must be disciplined to think logi- 
 cally, and to communicate and preserve his thoughts 
 and sentiments, before he can make any considera- 
 ble progress in the physical sciences and useful arts. 
 Hence it is, that, among the ancient nations of the 
 earth, we find this high order of mind almost exclu- 
 sively engaged in carrying the first class to perfec- 
 tion, whilst it devoted comparatively little attention 
 to the physical sciences and useful arts. Indeed, 
 the useful arts seem to have been abandoned almost 
 entirely to slaves. They were carried on by manual 
 labor. Invention had not yet subjected the forces 
 of nature to the human will, and that vast amount 
 of toil, which is required to support a splendid civi- 
 lization, was urged on by an immense mass of peo- 
 ple in bondage. 
 
 I would further observe, that as the scientific and 
 inventive order of mind subsists, generally, indepen- 
 dent of any necessary connexion with any particular 
 government, so its influence is not to be traced in 
 the history of this or that people or community 
 merely, but rather in that of a common civiliza- 
 tion ; such as that of classical antiquity, or modern 
 
15 
 
 Christendom, consisting of a community of nations, 
 in which one government or society acts upon 
 another, and from which, through this very diver- 
 sity, that order of mind derives its power to coerce. 
 It acts through one government on another, through 
 one society on another, through society on govern- 
 ment, and through government on society ; its dis- 
 coveries and inventions every where inviting the 
 appropriate change, at first from policy, but if not 
 adopted from policy, compelling its adoption, at last, 
 by force of the principle of self-preservation. 
 
 History enables us to show, in but a few instances, 
 the effects which each succeeding discovery or in- 
 vention produced on society in the infancy of .the 
 race ; but it does enable us to see their combined 
 results in the form which society took under their 
 dominion. 
 
 In Egypt, the sarcerdotal order was the depository 
 of all the science and learning of the age ; and that 
 order, in fact, seems to have been the governing 
 power. Now what were its sciences, real or pre- 
 tended ? Geometry, astronomy, astrology, and a 
 mystic theology. These were studied as the great 
 sciences of ancient Egypt, and carried out into their 
 respective arts ; and, to say nothing about their ge- 
 ometry and astronomy, have not the two last left the 
 distinctive impress of their mysticism upon every 
 thing that remains of this ancient civilization ? It 
 appears in the labyrinth, the pyramid, the temple, 
 and the hieroglyphics with which they were blazoned; 
 and in the statuary, the sphinx, the veiled Isis, and 
 mute Harpocrates, with which each entrance was 
 
16 
 
 sanctified. Society divided itself, spontaneously, 
 into castes. Where there is progress, the highest 
 order of intellect must lead, and the priesthood of 
 Egypt, with the king at their head, necessarily stood 
 first. Next to them the warrior caste, by which all 
 was defended or preserved. Beneath them, the mass 
 consisting chiefly of slaves, or those who were ele- 
 vated little above the condition of bondmen. These 
 were again divided into castes, corresponding to the 
 laborious arts which they followed, with, probably, 
 each its tutelary deity. The son followed the oc- 
 cupation of his father, and society underwent a sort 
 of petrifaction, from the arts which admitted of no 
 change without destruction. This arrangement 
 could not have resulted from the designs of a cun- 
 ning priesthood, establishing and ordaining the or- 
 ganization for their particular benefit. It must have 
 grown up with the progress of the sciences and arts. 
 Each art, newly invented or introduced, had its ar- 
 tizans, who transmitted, like the sacerdotal order, 
 their peculiar mystery to their particular posterity. 
 The governing power, since it embodied within 
 itself all science, and took its constitution from it, 
 might, after the arts had reflected themselves into 
 society, have very naturally interfered to protect 
 that social organization, into which, as mysteries, 
 they spontaneously fell. 
 
 But let us pass to Greece. No one doubts that 
 Greece owed her civilization to her literature and 
 arts. But to what was she indebted for the success- 
 ful cultivation of these ? It has been ascribed to the 
 freedom of her political institutions. But, again it 
 
17 
 
 may be asked, to what were they indebted for that 
 freedom ? Is it not plain that they were indebted 
 for it to the fact, that her literature and arts early 
 took root in the vigorous barbarism of distinct and 
 independent communities, and that as her political 
 institutions settled down into definite and fixed forms, 
 they took their complexion and shape necessarily 
 from the arts and literature cultivated by society ? 
 In Lacedemon, the art of war alone was cultivated, 
 and she was, for long, exclusively a martial State ; 
 but was finally obliged to give way to the influences 
 operating around and within her. As to all the rest 
 of Greece, it was under the dominion of the fluctu- 
 ating wills of the many, or the few, and there was 
 nothing permanent to give regular progression and 
 tendency to political and social institutions, but the 
 arts and sciences cultivated. 
 
 Greece commenced her civilization with colonies 
 from Egypt and Phoenicia. They brought with them 
 the arts and sciences, and something of the wealth 
 of the parent countries, and ingrafted all on her ac- 
 tive barbarism. And here, again, the immediate 
 influence of the newly introduced sciences and arts, 
 or of any particular discovery or invention, rarely 
 appears in history, and is but dimly shadowed forth 
 in the myths of the golden and heroic ages. But 
 until they were introduced, Greece was peopled by 
 bands of roving savages. Piracy was an honorable 
 profession ; the coast could not be safely inhabited ; 
 one savage band was continually driven back upon 
 another. Attica was spared for its poverty. The 
 Corinthians made the first great improvement in na- 
 3 
 
18 
 
 val architecture. They invented the war galley df 
 three banks of oars. They constructed a navy of 
 like craft. This was followed by great results ; they 
 cleared the Grecian seas of pirates ; nations settled 
 on the coast, and by like means kept them clear. 
 The Mediterranean was laid open to honest traffic ; 
 commerce flourished ; the arts flourished. The 
 Grecian communities took the longest stride in the 
 infancy of their progress, from this simple improv- 
 ment in naval architecture, the longest with the ex- 
 ception of that made by the Trojan war. That war 
 did for the Greeks what the crusades in modern times 
 did for the nations of Europe. It made them known 
 to each other ; disciplined them in a common art of 
 war ; made them acquainted with a higher civiliza- 
 tion and its arts, and restored them to their country 
 with a common history, and themes for their bards 
 of all time. 
 
 Greece, it is believed, presents the first instance 
 of a civilized people, in which the exercise of the 
 powers of government, and the almost exclusive 
 cultivation of the sciences, are not to be found in 
 the same hands. The sacerdotal corporation in 
 Greece, did not embrace all learning, as in Egypt, 
 and did not, as there, control the state. Science 
 and art, absolved from political connexion, stood, 
 then and there, on the same independent ground, 
 as in our own age and country. Philosophy, it is 
 true, was held in check by superstition ; but gov- 
 ernment did not assume to restrain, control, or 
 direct improvement in art and science. And now, 
 what was the result of this independent and isolated 
 
19 
 
 existence of the scientific mind upon the social and 
 political organizations of Greece ? It seems to me 
 to have been immense. Whatever of art or science 
 was introduced from Egypt, found no corresponding 
 social organization in Greece, and the bondage of 
 caste there never appeared, and for this reason it is, 
 that of all the races of men, the Grecian is the first 
 to present us with an intellectual people ; a people 
 intellectual and progressive by force of its own in- 
 ternal and all-pervasive action. Science was no 
 mystery, and each Greek was at liberty to cultivate 
 whatever branch of knowledge or art, it to him 
 seemed meet ; and therefore it was, that Grecian 
 society necessarily became free to the extent to 
 which this cultivation could be carried, and there 
 freedom stopped there slavery commenced. Those 
 who were consigned to the labors of the industrial 
 arts, if it had been permitted, had neither the means 
 nor the power to cultivate the sciences ; and they 
 were slaves. 
 
 Every free Greek did or might cultivate gram- 
 mar, logic, rhetoric, music, and geometry. And 
 what was the product of these sciences ? The fine 
 arts. They improved language ; they improved the 
 power of expressing thought and sentiment; and 
 they produced philosophers, poets, historians, ora- 
 tors, sculptors, painters, and architects. These pro- 
 duced an ever enduring literature, and specimens in 
 the fine arts, destined to become models for all 
 time. The sciences and arts of Greece became 
 the sciences and arts of Rome and the Roman Em- 
 
20 
 
 pire, and were diffused to the full extent of Roman 
 conquest. 
 
 I will not indulge in any common place rhetoric 
 about Grecian civilization. You know what it was. 
 The only point to which 1 would here call your atten- 
 tion is, that the arts and sciences of classical antiquity 
 were not effects of the improved character of the 
 social and political institutions of the epoch, but on 
 the contrary, that their improved character was the 
 result of the scientific progress of the common mind, 
 which progress went on in obedience to no law, save 
 that which God has ordained for its government. 
 
 But it was the liberal sciences and the fine arts that 
 were mainly cultivated in this ancient civilization. 
 Man had not yet learned to go abroad out of himself 
 into nature to search for facts. He found the ele- 
 ments of the sciences and arts, which he almost ex- 
 clusively cultivated, within his own mind, or within 
 his immediate social sphere. He was preparing the 
 necessary means, the instruments, by which he was 
 in after times to explore the universe, and extend 
 the sphere of social improvement by the physical 
 sciences and useful arts. 
 
 And now what was the consequence of this per- 
 haps necessary restriction of discovery and inven- 
 tion ? A superficial civilization, grand and impos- 
 ing it is true, but still a civilization that went no 
 further than the practically free cultivation of the 
 predominant arts and sciences of the epoch ; a civ- 
 ilization that did not penetrate the great mass of 
 human society. The laborious industry by which 
 it was supported, was carried on by an immense 
 
21 
 
 mass of unintellectual bondmen, who were to be 
 employed by their masters, lest they should find em- 
 ployment for themselves. The useful arts became 
 mysteries, and the secrets of nature remained se- 
 crets still. 
 
 Every where, throughout this ancient civilization, 
 whether Grecian or Roman, the same horizontal 
 division of society prevailed, and in portions of like 
 ratio. A portion of the social mind, large, it is 
 true, if compared with any thing in preceding his- 
 tory, was cultivated ; but still a very small portion, 
 if compared with the masses in bondage. In Attica, 
 the proportion of the freemen to the whole enslaved 
 population, was as two to forty ; in the Roman em- 
 pire, at one time, as seven to sixty ; and the bond- 
 men subsequently so far increased, that armies 
 sufficient for the defence of the state could not be 
 enlisted from the freemen. Beneath this bright 
 covering of civilization, what a vast amount of in- 
 tellectual susceptibility lay slumbering in the night 
 of ignorance and bondage ! 
 
 The predominant arts and sciences of this epoch 
 were at last brought to their perfection. They 
 ceased to advance, and society became stationary. 
 The mind of Asia and the south of Europe could 
 go no further. It was the hardy vigor of the North, 
 alone, that was competent successfully to use the 
 instruments which this ancient civilization had per- 
 fected ; to go out of the sphere of social man into 
 nature ; to regenerate and multiply the useful arts 
 and sciences, and, by their means, to elevate the 
 masses from the condition of bondage to the free- 
 
22 
 
 dom of intellectual life. Northern barbarism there- 
 fore came ; and it conquered, for this simple reason, 
 that the arts and sciences of antiquity had not made 
 the civilization of the epoch sufficiently strong to 
 resist it. 
 
 Gentlemen, we are not dealing with a history of 
 events, but with the causes which produce them, 
 and especially those changes which add permanently 
 to the improvement of the social and political con- 
 dition of man. I know you may follow these 
 changes in the history of events, civil, religious and 
 military ; but I am endeavoring to point out their 
 origin in those causes which gave the institutions 
 they produced, shape, consistency and duration ; 
 and to demonstrate, that they are not to be found in 
 accident, or in the arbitrary dictates of the human 
 will, but in an eternal law of mind which especially 
 manifests itself in the arts and sciences. For this 
 reason it is not necessary to cite all history, but 
 merely a number of its facts, sufficient to establish 
 the position. 
 
 And now, lest I should exhaust your patience, I 
 pass the gulph of the middle ages with this single 
 observation, that it was a season during which 
 Christianity was engaged in humanizing and soften- 
 ing the heart of barbarism, and thus qualifying its 
 mind to take form under the influence of modern 
 art and science ; and landing on the margin of our 
 present civilization, 1 proceed to discuss the social 
 and political effects of scientific discovery and in- 
 vention in modern times. And here we have an 
 opportunity of tracing those effects with historical 
 
23 
 
 certainty to their causes, and of proving, as I hope, 
 to minds the most sceptical, the truth of our position. 
 
 But before doing this, I must speak of the social 
 condition of the mass of society on which early 
 modern discoveries produced their effects. Time 
 will permit me to state it only in the most general 
 terms ; and perhaps on an occasion like the present, 
 and to such an audience, this is all that is necessary 
 or even proper. 
 
 Guizot, in his admirable history of the civilization 
 of modern Europe, dates the commencement of 
 modern society in the sixteenth century. But mod- 
 ern society came out of a pre-existent state of things, 
 which state of things first manifested itself, and be- 
 came general in the tenth century, when Europe 
 rose out of the bosom of a chaotic barbarism, and 
 took distinct form in the feudal system. This re- 
 mark, however applies more particularly to the 
 north and west of Europe. It was whilst this was 
 the predominant system, that she commenced and 
 carried on the crusades, and not only made herself 
 acquainted with herself, but with the remnants of 
 civilization in the east and south of Europe. It was 
 riot until the thirteenth century, that she manifested 
 a decided tendency to her present political and so- 
 cial organization. And it is to a mere glance at her 
 condition at this period, that I would now invite 
 your attention. 
 
 In the East was the Greek, the remnant of the 
 ancient Roman empire, still consisting of the same 
 elements which distinguished it in the time of Con- 
 stantine, a master class and a servant class. Those 
 
24 
 
 of the first class, eclipsed though they were, " had 
 not yet lost all their original brightness." They 
 were still imbued with something of the philosophy 
 and literature of ancient Greece ; and, in point of 
 numbers, they bore perhaps about the same ratio as 
 their progenitors to the immense mass of slaves be- 
 neath them. In Italy, were the Italian republics, 
 exhibiting remnants of the ancient Roman munici- 
 pal institutions. They cultivated the Latin litera- 
 ture, and were soon to be engaged in renovating the 
 fine arts of classical antiquity, and were already, for 
 the era, extensively employed in commercial enter- 
 prize. The ratio of the free to the bond, was prob- 
 ably about the same as it had been during the Ro- 
 man empire. Subject to these exceptions, all 
 Europe fell under the feudal system, and certain 
 corporations, called free cities, which, situated with- 
 in the fief of some baron, wrested or wrung from 
 him whatever privileges they could, by force or 
 compact. There were no nations no govern- 
 ments on a large scale. Europe was dotted all 
 over with baronies and these free cities. Each 
 barony, whatever it might be in theory, was a little 
 sovereignty. Each baron, with his retainers, under 
 a load of armor, and armed with sword and lance, 
 and other offensive weapons of the times, occupied 
 his castle in the country. He willingly submitted 
 to no law, save that of superior force. His king- 
 dom was his fief, and his subjects were his vassals, 
 who followed him in war, or tilled his land, or per- 
 formed for him other laborious service. The free 
 cities were walled ; the dwelling of the burgher 
 
Was not merely in law, but in fact, his castle, pro- 
 tected by tower and parapet ; and the burgher him- 
 self, when he ventured abroad to thread the narrow 
 lanes and crooked streets of his city, went armed 
 with lance, and often under cover of armor. The 
 Romish church presented the only element which 
 pervaded all these little sovereignties and cities. 
 Except among the clergy and the civilians, there 
 were no scholars ; and to say nothing about their 
 vassals, perhaps not one in a hundred of the noble 
 barons themselves, could either read or write. Nay, 
 they were proud of their ignorance of those accom- 
 plishments. The author of Marmion means to give 
 them their true character, at a much later period, 
 when he represents the Douglas as exclaiming : 
 
 Thanks to St. Botham ! son of mine, 
 Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line ; 
 I swore it once, I swear it still 
 Let my boy bishop fret his fill. 
 
 It is true, that when the crusades ceased, some- 
 thing of that zeal, which had originated and carried 
 them on, began to pass into new channels. Those 
 immense masses, that had passed out of the north 
 and west of Europe, had made themselves ac- 
 quainted with the advancing civilization of the 
 Italian republics, and with the remnant of ancient 
 civilization in the Greek empire. They had pene- 
 trated into Asia, and had heard and credited all the 
 fables that oriental imagination could invent, of the 
 wealth and splendor of the gorgeous East, 
 
 Whose richest hand 
 Showered on her kings barbaric pearl and gold. 
 
 And they returned to their respective countries with 
 4 
 
26 
 
 these fables, and stimulated a thirst for further 
 knowledge ; but above all, they excited the love of 
 adventure and discovery, a yearning for the yet un- 
 explored and unknown ; breeding a vague but con- 
 fident faith in a something vast, boundless, myste- 
 rious, that was yet in reserve for daring enterprize, 
 or unyielding perseverance -haply a true augury 
 this, of the discovery yet to be made on this side the 
 Atlantic yet, however fertile their imaginations, 
 the most ardent of them had not conceived the 
 possibility of the existence of this continent. Here 
 it lay, secreted in the western skies, beyond an 
 ocean whose westward rolling billow, it was then 
 deemed, broke on no shore toward the setting 
 sun, awaiting, in all the grandeur of waving forest* 
 towering mountain, and majestically winding stream, 
 the further discoveries of science, and the future 
 wants of a progressive civilization. 
 
 Now let us for one moment contemplate this con- 
 dition of affairs throughout Europe this vast num- 
 ber of scattered petty sovereignties, and municipal 
 communities this general pervasive ignorance 
 this enormous mass of vassals, serfs, and slaves? 
 which underlaid and gave foundation to all ; and 
 then ask ourselves, what process of legislation or 
 compact, originating merely in the human will, 
 could have resolved this jumble of conflicting ma- 
 terials into those organized nations and communi- 
 ties of nations, which now constitute the civilization 
 of all Christendom. We can conceive of 110 pro- 
 cess so originating, that could possibly have brought 
 
2? 
 
 about this grand result. Yet human legislation and 
 compact were the secondary causes by which it was 
 accomplished. But what, humanly speaking, was 
 the primary cause ? that is the subject of our in- 
 quiry. I find it in a necessary result of that law of 
 scientific progress, which I have already pointed 
 out ; I find it in the grand revolution which at this 
 time took place in the science and art of war ; in 
 one word, I find it in the invention of Gunpowder. 
 Start not with incredulity and aversion at the annun- 
 ciation ; the cause of causes is there. Tell me 
 not of wars domestic and foreign, of treaties, of 
 parliaments, of councils of state and church. They 
 were the mere external symptoms of the action of 
 the all-sufficient internal cause. Yes, the first can- 
 non that projected the ball of stone or iron, an- 
 nounced, in its own voice of thunder, the final doom 
 of the feudal system, the centralization of nations, the 
 ultimate emancipation of the enthralled, and the 
 establishment of a Christian civilization on a basis 
 never more to be periled by the inroad of barbarian, 
 or the invasion of Turk. The revival of ancient 
 learning might have done much toward again pla- 
 ting over society with the civilization of classical 
 antiquity ; but neither that nor mere human legis- 
 lation could have overthrown the feudal system, 
 centralized nations, penetrated, and finally emanci- 
 pated the nether mass of bondmen, and forever 
 shut out the inundations of barbarism. 
 
 Feudalism gave way either immediately, in an- 
 ticipation of the results of the discovery, or finally, 
 under the direct operation of its physical force* 
 
28 
 
 What availed the Herculean arm, or giant muscular 
 force ? What availed the panoply of helmet, and 
 shield, and coat of mail ? Nay, what availed tower 
 and trench, parapet and battlement, whether of ba- 
 ronial castle, walled city, or burgher's armed abode ? 
 They all crumbled into atoms, or stood scathed and 
 powerless before the blast of this tremendous in- 
 vention. 
 
 Gunpowder, in the material world, is a most ter- 
 rible leveller ; it makes no distinction between the 
 strong man and the weak. But in the world of mind, 
 it is a most determined aristocrat. It establishes 
 " in times that try men's souls," none but the aris- 
 tocracy of intellect. Nay, in the long run, it goes 
 still further; for, since to command its service it 
 requires national wealth, it perpetuates power in the 
 hands of those only who know how best to use it for 
 the benefit of all. 
 
 The barons abandoned their castles for the court 
 of the sovereign, suzerain or lord ; and that lord 
 became the most powerful whose resources were the 
 most abundant. Immense wealth, such only as a 
 people at least practically free, can create, became 
 necessary in order to carry on a war of offence or 
 defence. The suzerain, or king, was thus at once 
 converted into the friend, and became the liberator 
 of bondmen. Vassals and burghers became sub- 
 jects and citizens, practically free. And their free- 
 dom was guarantied to them by no plighted faith of 
 kings ; by no lettered scroll of parchment ; but by an 
 irreversible law of necessity, enacted by this sove- 
 reign invention. What it did for individuals, it did 
 
29 
 
 for nations ; armies could no longer carry on war 
 in a foreign country without keeping up a commu- 
 nication with their own ; and to conquer a new coun- 
 try, was to establish a new base for military opera- 
 tions against others ; and thus, from necessity, was 
 established a community of nations, in which the 
 safety of all found a guaranty only in the indepen- 
 dence and freedom of each. Hence comes that law 
 of nations which is recognized by all Christendom, 
 and that sleepless vigilance which guards and pre- 
 serves the balance of power. 
 
 Gentlemen : After considering these consequen- 
 ces, permit me to ask you whether Christendom be 
 indebted for her progress, thus far stated, to human 
 legislation, guided by some abstract theory merely, 
 or to the sovereign law imposed upon her by this 
 all-controlling invention ? When one nation had 
 adopted this invention, all were obliged to adopt it, 
 and Christendom having thus necessarily received 
 this power into her bosom, shaped her policy by the 
 necessities which it imposed. Indeed, she owed her 
 then, and owes her present condition, not to the 
 foresight of her counsels guided by the speculations 
 of her theorists, but to this law of human progress, 
 which has overruled her follies and sustained her 
 wisdom. 
 
 I have been considering an invention which be- 
 gins its influence in the world of matter and reflects 
 it inward to the world of mind. I now pass to 
 another discovery or invention, that belongs to the 
 same century, but which begins its influence in the 
 world of mind, and reflects it outward to the world 
 
30 
 
 of matter. You will at once understand me to re- 
 fer to the art of Printing. 
 
 Were human progress a mere result of fortuitous 
 events, and not the necessary operation of a law of 
 mind proceeding from a designing reason, these two 
 discoveries, made about the same time, might be in- 
 scribed in the list of remarkable coincidences. But 
 they belong to no such list. The invention of print- 
 ing, like every other, may be traced from its first 
 rude essays down through a logical series of discov- 
 eries and improvements, urged on by the conspiring 
 action of the whole humanity, to its last grand re- 
 sult, as the necessary consequence of all that has 
 preceded it. It was necessary that a large portion 
 of the human race should be educated to the use of 
 letters ; that the art of reading and writing should 
 become widely diffused ; the materials for copying 
 cheap, and the demand for copies beyond the ca- 
 pacity of the penman to supply. You may accord- 
 ingly trace the growth, which produced this inven- 
 tion, from the first symbolic painting of thought on 
 rock or tree, by roving savage, to the mnemonic 
 hieroglyphics inscribed on pyramid and temple ; 
 then to characters representing words ; then to those 
 representing syllables ; till the very elements of the 
 human voice at last take representative form in the 
 alphabet. In this form it branches forth beyond the 
 sacerdotal caste, and, like the banyan tree, repeats 
 itself by striking its far-reaching branches into fresh 
 soil. It passes from the Egyptian into the Phoeni- 
 cian, thence into the stronger intellectual soil of 
 Greece; it multiplies itself throughout the Roman 
 
31 
 
 empire, at every repetition making still further de- 
 mands upon the labors of the hand ; it survives the 
 middle ages, that its far extending root and branch 
 might draw increased vigor from the northern mind, 
 and that nether mass of humanity, which is at length 
 thrown open to more genial influences ; and then it 
 is, that this stupendous growth of all time puts forth, 
 as its last fruit, this wonder-working art of printing* 
 Readers had multiplied with the revival of ancient 
 learning, with the progress of emancipation, with 
 the love of the marvellous in romance, and the mys- 
 terious in religion, and demands for copies of great 
 works, and especially for such as were sacred, or 
 were so esteemed, could be satisfied in no way but 
 by the labor-saving machinery of the press. 
 
 Now the military art must date its rude origin at 
 the same distant epoch. It must have grown by 
 force of the same law of suggestion, and therefore 
 must have almost necessarily produced its corres- 
 ponding invention of gunpowder, during the same 
 century. Thus it was, that one and the same law 
 of progress conspired to perfect these two grand 
 inventions at about the same time. Twin sove- 
 reigns, the one to commence its labors in the world 
 of mind, the other in the world of matter. 
 
 And what were the effects of the art of printing 
 on social and political institutions ? Did it take law 
 from the human legislator, or give him law ? Let 
 us see. 
 
 It created, for the first time in history, what may 
 be called a public mind. Cabined and cribbed 
 though it was, within the forms of an age of despo- 
 
32 
 
 tism and bigotry, that mind grew and expanded, till 
 it felt the pressure of those forms as obstructions to 
 its growth. It then reformed the legislator himself, 
 and through him cast off its obstructions, and 
 thereupon expanded, with a broader liberty, into a 
 mightier stature. 
 
 This mind thus shaped itself, not upon general 
 speculative ideas, but upon natural tendencies and 
 habits of thought, coming from the hoary past, and 
 common to all, and to which the inspiring influence 
 of the press now gave an all-pervasive life. Society 
 was thus made to feel its existence through its or- 
 ganized entirety through all its institutions and in^ 
 terests; and on this regenerated feeling, common 
 to all, was established a true sovereignty of public 
 opinion. Do not misunderstand me. When I speak 
 of public opinion, I do not mean the wild impulse of 
 minority or majority ; I do not mean popular agita- 
 tion or effervescence. 1 do not mean a state of mind 
 indicated by mass meetings, barbecues, and the like. 
 These may indicate a feverish state of the public 
 mind, but they indicate no public opinion. On the 
 contrary, they show that public opinion on the given 
 subject is not yet formed. But I mean that opinion 
 which is a natural, spontaneous growth, or proceed^ 
 ing from the organized whole ; which is therefore in 
 accordance with the political institutions, established 
 interests, and the general moral and religious sense 
 of a community. Until these are endangered, threat- 
 ened, or disturbed, public opinion rests unmoved, 
 and heeds not the angry discussions that are 
 going on among the over-heated partizans of the day, 
 
35 
 
 If, therefore, you would know what public opinion 
 is, do not look to a party press that is doing what 
 it can to draw forth an opinion favorable to the 
 cause which it advocates, but look to the estab- 
 lished interests, the intellectual character, and the 
 moral and religious sense of the people, which the 
 whole press, in all the variety of its departments, 
 has contributed to form, and from them estimate 
 what the common judgment, in the last result, 
 must be. 
 
 Public opinion, in our country, indulges in no ab- 
 stract speculations ; it leaves them to the dreams of 
 the theorist. In the full enjoyment of its own un- 
 obstructed freedom, it is never clamorous, it is 
 never violent. It moves only on great occasions, 
 and under the pressure of some stern necessity ; 
 but, when it does move, it is irresistible ; it bears 
 down all opposition before it. The demagogue fre- 
 quently attempts to imitate the incipient stages of 
 this movement, by an artificial agitation of the mass- 
 es. Yet his imposture is sure to be detected in the 
 end, by the fraudful expedients to which he resorts 
 in order to sustain that continued excitement in 
 which alone he can live. Public opinion neither 
 countenances such expedients, nor desires the agi- 
 tation which they provoke. To it, all agitation is 
 incidental, and results from extraneous causes, or 
 from its partial manifestations. Sovereign in itself, 
 it seeks not the aid of violently excited feeling, and 
 when it unequivocally manifests itself, all agitation 
 ceases, and the stream of events rolls quietly on. 
 
 It is when the course of the waters is obstructed, 
 5 
 
34 
 
 and they are accumulating behind the obstruction, 
 that this artificial, this counterfeit agitation begins* 
 It is then that every monstrous thing, little and great, 
 which peoples the flood, swells into unnatural di- 
 mensions, and each, from the small fry to the levia- 
 than, 
 
 Hugest that swims the ocean stream, 
 
 creates for itself its particular whirlpool and circle 
 of bubble and foam, deceiving the inconsiderate 
 spectator into the belief that all this is the agitation 
 of the onward rolling flood, the indication of the 
 natural tendency and pressure of the mighty mass. 
 Yet let but the master-mind, which alone is compe- 
 tent to view the entirety ab extra, open the sluice- 
 way, or the accumulating wave break the obstruc- 
 tion down, and the tide rolls tranquilly on, swallow- 
 ing up in its prevailing current, whirlpool and bub- 
 ble and foam, and little monster and great, arid 
 bearing them all quietly off to the ocean of eternal 
 oblivion. 
 
 This is public opinion ; the gravitation of the 
 general mass of mind through all its institutions 
 and interests toward its eternal centre ; and when it 
 so gravitates, it is always right ; but this artificial 
 agitation is generally wholly individual, and when 
 it is such, it is always wrong ; since its object, what- 
 ever may be the pretext, is wholly selfish. It is only 
 when the agitation is natural, spontaneous, and 
 comes from an effort to express the common wants 
 and desires of a people, and is conducted with a re- 
 ligious reverence for public morals, for good order, 
 
35 
 
 and all truth, that it is ever the true harbinger of a 
 genuine and enduring public opinion. A public 
 opinion, based upon the generally received ideas of 
 morality, religion, and law, doth in fact constitute 
 the common conscience of a people ; and it is this 
 conscience which in every great and trying emer- 
 gency makes heroes or cowards of us all, as we may 
 chance to be right or wrong. 
 
 It was a deep religious and moral feeling of this 
 sort, for the first time brought into general activity 
 by the diffusion of the Scriptures through the agen- 
 cy of the press, which in the sixteenth century com- 
 menced and carried on the great work of religious 
 reformation. The obstructions to its efforts were 
 mountainous, and a deep and wide searching agita- 
 tion went before it, often mingling error with truth. 
 It touched, it moved that principle which lies be- 
 neath the deepest foundations of all that is human, 
 and at once all social institutions were agitated as 
 by an earthquake. It taught the human to give 
 place to the divine. It dashed government against 
 government, institution against institution, man 
 against man ; and urged on that series of religious 
 revolutions, which for ages shook all Europe to its 
 centre. It passed from religion into philosophy ; it 
 took form in politics ; it produced its consequences 
 in this country ; it exploded, with most murderous 
 effect, the combustible monarchy of France, and is 
 to this day, with almost undiminished energy, pass- 
 ing down its tremulous agitations through the pres- 
 ent into the boundless future. It changed the aspect 
 
36 
 
 of Christendom ; it established Protestantism and 
 Protestant states, and reformed Romanism itself. 
 
 Nobody can doubt that all these changes were the 
 necessary results of the discovery of the art of print- 
 ing. They date from the commencement of the re- 
 formation ; but the reformation could not have suc- 
 ceeded except by the aid of this art. Before this 
 discovery, it had been repeatedly attempted both in 
 church and out of church, and the attempts had 
 failed ; but after this discovery, it was attempted by 
 a poor obscure monk in Germany, and the attempt 
 did not fail. It began in the social mind, and ex- 
 tended itself, after much agitation, by a regular and 
 orderly process, through the legitimate legislation of 
 each community, out into state and church. 
 
 The creation of means by which the common 
 mind, in every country of Christendom, may in an 
 orderly manner produce every desirable and neces- 
 sary change in government, is one of the important 
 results of this discovery; but its general social re- 
 sults have been no less important. 
 
 Let us go back, if we can, to the middle of the 
 fourteenth century. Let us place ourselves in the 
 bosom of that country whence all our political and 
 social institutions are directly or indirectly derived ; 
 nay, from which all our ideas of legal right and duty, 
 of liberty and law, proceed ; and now, as in the 
 midst of that century, let us see what the condition 
 of the common mind is without the aid of this art. 
 The first thing, then, that must strike our attention, 
 is the general apathy and indifference of the mass 
 around us, as to all matters of general, social and 
 
37 
 
 political importance. There is no press, there are 
 no newspapers, no periodicals, political, religious, 
 literary, or scientific. In the place of the light which 
 should come from these sources on the common 
 mind, a profound darkness prevails, beneath which, 
 all thought and action still rest in primeval slumber. 
 But this is not all ; there are no books in circulation 
 or use, save those few that are transcribed on parch- 
 ment by the slow and tedious operations of the pen. 
 If we enter their public libraries, the precious man- 
 uscripts are chained to the tables, or are guarded 
 with the vigilance of armed centinels. If we enter 
 their schools, the child is learning his alphabet from 
 a written scroll furnished him by his master. What 
 a mass of ignorance ; aye, and of necessary bon- 
 dage ! How eagerly the million multitudes look up 
 to the learned few for light and guidance ! With 
 what intensity of attention do they hang on the ut- 
 terance of their lips, and how carefully do they treas- 
 ure up, in their memories of iron, the oracles that 
 fall on their ears ! Ah ! these are days when it well 
 behooves the learned to take heed what they say. 
 They are rulers of necessity, if not of choice, and 
 their words are law ; and well may they subject 
 themselves to some general rules of thought and 
 speech, and become a corporate community, sa- 
 cerdotal or other, that the masses may take organ- 
 ization beneath them. Well is it for humanity and 
 human progress that they have this absolute mas- 
 terdom, and can hold, in unqualified subjection, the 
 blind passions and terrible energies that are slumber- 
 
38 
 
 ing under them! Now let us return to this our day 
 and generation, and 
 
 What a change ! The press is pouring forth its 
 torrents of truth or falsehood ; the land is whitened 
 with its daily sheets ; the labors of a whole literary 
 life may be purchased by an hour's labor of the me- 
 chanic; reading is the pastime of man, woman, and 
 child, of prince and peasant; and strange voices, 
 laden with strange thoughts, come thick on the clas- 
 sic ear, from cottage, and garret, and cellar. Where 
 is that awful intensity of attention, that necessary 
 and salutary subjection of the masses to the learned 
 few ? Gone ! gone never to return ! Every individ- 
 ual has become an original centre of thought ; and 
 thought is every where tending to clash with thought, 
 and action with action. What is it that preserves 
 order in the rnidst of all this tendency to anarchy ? 
 Why, it is done by that public opinion which sub- 
 sists from the organized whole, and which the press 
 itself has created. It is that public opinion, which, 
 by its mere vis inertia, sustains the law, and holds 
 the struggling demon of discord down. It takes the 
 place of the learned of old ; and how important it is 
 that its genuine authority should be sustained, and 
 that no demagogue or insane enthusiast should be 
 permitted to impose on the world its counterfeit ! 
 
 This invention came not from legislation, but on 
 the contrary, from the independent progress of sci- 
 ence and art. Unaided by human policy, it organ- 
 ized for itself an empire within the privacy of the 
 human mind ; and, gradually extending its dominion 
 from spirit outward into matter, brought human leg- 
 
39 
 
 islation, at last, to follow reluctantly in the steps of 
 its progress. And when, at length, the old world 
 became too limited for the intellectual growth which 
 it had generated, or ancient institutions so incorpor- 
 ated with the life of nations as not to admit of that 
 change which its irrepressible expansion required, it 
 was then that the excess of this growth sought for 
 and found in the newly discovered western world, 
 an ample theatre for its enlargement. 
 
 A world newly discovered ! and how ? Why, by 
 the progressive improvement of the art of navi- 
 gation, aided by the then recent discovery or appli- 
 cation of the virtues of the magnet ; an art which 
 had taken its birth at the first stage of the progress- 
 ive humanity, and which had proceeded, pari passu, 
 with other arts, under a common law of progress, 
 and which consequently had its corresponding dis- 
 covery at this very juncture of affairs. Under the 
 government of Divine Prov idence, all is order and 
 law ; and notwithstanding the occasional outbreaks 
 of human passion, and the perversity of the human 
 will, that government compels its own puny crea- 
 tures, whatever may be their motives, or however 
 widely they may err, to shape their actions, at last, 
 to its own grand train of events, and to carry out 
 and fulfil its own great designs. 
 
 All three of those wonderful inventions, gunpow- 
 der, printing, and the compass, were necessary to 
 the successful establishment of the Anglo-Saxon 
 colonies on these shores. A number of tempest- 
 driven Northmen doubtless discovered and colonized 
 them in the beginning of the eleventh century ; but 
 
40 
 
 their discovery was premature. It came not in the 
 logical order of progress. The colonists necessarily 
 failed to effect a permanent establishment. Their 
 intercourse with the mother country was fraught 
 with every peril of uncertainty ; for over fog-wrapt 
 surge, or beneath cloud-invested sky, they wandered 
 without compass or guide. The shores them- 
 selves were occupied by ferocious savages, and fire- 
 arms were wanting to subdue them. And then, 
 what availed it to add the forest and barbarism of 
 the new world, to the forest and semi-barbarism of 
 the old ? The invention of printing was yet want- 
 ing to reform the general mind of Europe, and 
 to generate that spirit which in after times was 
 to go forth to establish its emancipation on these 
 shores, under the auspices of institutions to be form- 
 ed from all that was select and glorious in the past. 
 The establishment and developement of the institu- 
 tions under which we live, are due to no arbitrary 
 enactments, suggested by abstract speculations, but 
 are the necessary results of the operations of these 
 discoveries and inventions, on the free growth of 
 the Anglo-Saxon idea of liberty and law. 
 
 Thus the state of the arts and sciences, in the 
 beginning of the eleventh century, was not such as 
 to enable the progressive humanity to discover these 
 shores, and to establish permanent dominion on this 
 side the Atlantic. Their accidental discovery, at 
 that time, yielded no useful results. But the pro- 
 gress of the arts and sciences in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury had been such, as to furnish all the necessary 
 means for the purpose ; and the discovery and colo- 
 
41 
 
 nization of this continent followed as a necessary 
 consequence in the consecutive order of events. Its 
 discovery then took its place, as a logical result of 
 the grand series of discoveries and inventions that 
 had preceded it, and thus became a new premise, or 
 broader basis for the progressive action of the race. 
 I might here dwell on the consequences of the 
 discovery of America, and its settlement by civilized 
 communities. I might show how those consequences 
 reacted on the arts and sciences themselves, on 
 the relations of nations, on their internal polities, 
 their domestic habits, and social enjoyments; sha- 
 ping their institutions and controlling their legisla- 
 tion. But I deem further historical illustrations 
 unnecessary. The great truth that human progress 
 is the result of an ever active law, manifesting itself 
 chiefly in scientific discovery and invention, and 
 thereby controlling legislation, and giving enduring 
 improvement to all social and political institutions, 
 cannot be a subject of historical question or doubt. 
 It is a law as palpable in the history of the social 
 mind, as the law of gravitation in the movement of 
 matter. Indeed, I should feel that I owed a serious 
 apology to my hearers for having detained them so 
 long on this point, were it not for certain extrava- 
 gant ideas which seem to be rife in the land. The 
 advocates of those ideas would teach us that there 
 is an absolute, undefinable popular sovereignty, 
 which can, in a manner its own, and at any moment, 
 carry a certain supposed natural equality into social 
 and political life, and thereby elevate poor human 
 nature, however rude and degraded its condition, at 
 5 
 
42 
 
 once, as by a sort of magic, into a state of supreme 
 and absolute perfection. When this sovereignty 
 does not itself act to this end, it invokes the legis- 
 lature, which is supposed to be competent to do 
 nearly as much. No doubt government can do 
 much ; it can suppress insurrection, it can repel 
 invasion, it can enforce contracts, preserve the 
 peace, concentrate and protect the existing arts ; 
 but all this is to organize, and sustain organization, 
 and not to establish the natural equality. Yet this 
 is all that government can do to promote human 
 improvement ; but in doing this, it does but act in 
 obedience to that law, by which God governs in the 
 progress of the race. 
 
 The idea that legislation necessarily acts an infe- 
 rior part in human progress, that this progress is 
 governed by a law that overrules and controls politi- 
 cal sovereignty, may be humbling indeed to the 
 demagogue, who would make every thing bend to 
 the popular will. But there this law is, an undoubt- 
 ed and incontrovertible reality, which will bear with 
 no paltering, but demands the obedience of all, on 
 the penalty of degradation or ruin. The true 
 statesman, the real promoter of human progress, at 
 once recognizes, and feels proud to obey it. He 
 feels that in so doing, he is performing the most 
 elevated and dignified of duties. For though by 
 legislation he cannot advance the entire humanity a 
 single step, yet he may, by legislation, materially 
 advance the nation for which he legislates. You 
 may be able to add nothing to the light of the sun. 
 yet you may concentrate his rays in a focus, and 
 
43 
 
 thus make a particular point, as bright as the source 
 from which they emanate. The statesman can con- 
 centrate the scattered arts ; he may carry out each 
 discovery and invention to all its available uses, and 
 thus elevate the nation which he serves, to the head 
 of the progressive humanity. Yet if he would do this, 
 he must not wait to be driven to the task, like a 
 galley slave, by the rival and threatening policy of 
 foreign governments. For the very fact that they 
 coerce him, shows that they are already in his ad- 
 vance. 
 
 Supposing that a people has already adopted the 
 common arts and sciences, as far as they are availa- 
 ble, there will still remain certain discoveries and in- 
 ventions of more recent date, which are not fully 
 applied, or carried to their necessary consequences. 
 Among these, in modern times, there has always 
 been some one susceptible of such universality of 
 application, as would seem to merit the particular 
 consideration of statesmen. Take for instance, at 
 the present time, the steam engine. What is sus- 
 ceptible of more universal application ? What, 
 bringing out all its powers, can add greater energy 
 and vigor to the arm of government ? What has, or 
 can perform greater wonders ? Not gunpowder, not 
 the compass, nay, not even the press. It may be 
 made to toil in the field, and supplant the labor of 
 the slave. It already works at the spindle, and the 
 loom, and the forge, and the mine. It is even now, 
 whilst I am speaking, moving over earth with the 
 speed of wings, walking up the downward torrent, 
 and triumphantly striding over the roaring billows of 
 
44 
 
 the Atlantic. Already, where in use, has it reduced 
 the distance one half between man and man, nation 
 and nation, of extreme islands and continents of the 
 habitable globe. It has brought civilization into im- 
 mediate contact with barbarism, and Christianity with 
 heathenism. 
 
 Unless all history be false, and the eternal laws of 
 matter and mind nothing but a dream, there can be 
 little danger in predicting too much for the progress 
 of this invention. Indeed, the danger is, that the most 
 extravagant predictions will fall short of the reality. 
 No matter what government first applies this inven- 
 tion to all its practical naval and military uses, oth- 
 er governments must follow, however reluctantly, 
 or cease to exist. Nay, should an unwonted apathy 
 seize on all civilized governments, society would, at 
 length, do the work to a great extent at their hands. 
 The progress of this invention is ever onward, and 
 will not cease until it has filled the world with its 
 consequences. 
 
 Already has it coasted the shores of India, pene- 
 trated its interior by river or road, invaded the em- 
 pire of China, and roused the Chinese mind by its 
 appalling apparition, from the long slumber of cen- 
 turies past. Ere long it shall bind subject Asia to 
 Europe by bands of iron, and the Cossack and the 
 Tartar, whilst feeding their herds on the banks of the 
 Don and the steppes of southern Russia, shall start 
 with amazement at the shrill whistle of the locomo- 
 tive, and the thunder of the rail-road car, as it sweeps 
 on toward the confines of China. Can the monar- 
 chies of Europe slumber in security, whilst the im- 
 
45 
 
 mense Russian Empire is thus centralizing and con- 
 densing its vast military resources and population at 
 their backs ? Never ; their very existence must de- 
 pend upon their resort to like means of defence or 
 annoyance. And, from the heart of every monar- 
 chy of Europe, must diverge rail-roads to every 
 assailable extreme ; that when danger comes, and 
 come it must, the whole war force of the nation may 
 move, at a moment's warning, with the speed of 
 wings, to the extreme point of peril. 
 
 The governments of Europe must become strong- 
 er internally and externally ; more secure within and 
 more formidable without, maugre the democratic ten- 
 dencies by which they are threatened. Democracy 
 is strong, but here is a power still stronger, that will 
 have its course. It is a power with which govern- 
 ments will, and must organize themselves, at their 
 peril, whatever may be their form. And when thus 
 organized, their endurance must be as that of ada- 
 mant. Organized on like basis, our representative 
 democracy itself may be secure ; but if not thus or- 
 ganized, it can only wait, with as much quietude as 
 it may, to be gradually absorbed, and finally swallow- 
 ed up by the strong organizations that may be 
 brought to bear upon it. Think ye, that the milita- 
 ry progress of this invention in the old world, is to 
 produce no effect on the new ; that the breadth of 
 the Atlantic is to set bounds to its effects? The 
 breadth of the Atlantic ! Why, it has become a nar- 
 row frith, over which armies may be ferried in twelve 
 or fifteen days, to land in slave or non-slave hold- 
 ing states at option ; and that power, " whose 
 
46 
 
 home is in the deep," already transports, over her 
 watery empire, on the wings of this invention, her 
 victorious cannon. Other governments are little 
 behind her in the application of this power. Thus 
 menaced, have we strength to do our duty with 
 dignity ? Can we much longer be governed by fac- 
 tions ? 
 
 I am not suggesting a course of policy ; I am sim- 
 ply carrying our premises to their necessary conse- 
 quences ; and to that end I ask : If we continue a 
 free and independent people, must we not organize 
 ourselves on the basis which this invention affords ? 
 Can we avoid it ? Have we any choice but to radi- 
 ate our country with communications for its defence, 
 that the whole war force of the nation may be thrown 
 with rail-road speed on any point of danger ? This 
 system of defence may not be adopted till the shock 
 of some foreign invasion, or some terrible internal 
 convulsion, forces upon the government the neces- 
 sity of adopting it ; and then, if it be the will of 
 God that we continue one people, it will, and must 
 be adopted. When it is done, this union will be 
 complete ; its duration will depend on no written 
 scroll of parchment ; on no variable popular breath ; 
 its strength on no constitutional constructions chang- 
 ing to suit the temper of the times, but the constitu- 
 tion itself, resolved by the law of progress, shall take 
 form, over the whole face of the land, in bands of 
 iron. 
 
 Such must be the political progress of this inven- 
 tion. Government, in this country, has as yet done 
 nothing, but society has done much* True to itself 
 
47 
 
 and its highest interests, it has been prompt in obe- 
 dience to the law of progress. It has already ex- 
 tended, and still continues to extend the application 
 of this sovereign invention. It has contracted, as it 
 were, this country within half its former space. It 
 has made a sparse population dense, and if a dense 
 population has its evils, as in large cities it certainly 
 has, the same invention offers an antidote. It 
 can, without disadvantage, render those populations 
 sparse. It can combine the morality and the occu- 
 pation of a rural, with the intellectual activity of an 
 urban population. It will and must proceed on its 
 mission, by force of the very law which gave it ex- 
 istence, till the civilization of Christendom, on the 
 basis which it affords, has been fully accomplished, 
 and then, by force of the same law, will it bear that 
 civilization into the bosom of barbarism, christian- 
 ize the nations, and establish the dominion of the 
 arts over the broad face of earth and ocean. 
 
 Such is the nature of the law of progress. Ever 
 adding to the triumphs of intellect, ever expanding 
 the sphere of civilization, ever enlarging the do- 
 main of liberty and law, it began its political and so- 
 cial manifestations, as from a central point, in the 
 sacerdotal caste of Egypt. It continued them in 
 Greece, and there, with the fine arts and liberal sci- 
 ences, expanded its influence over a Wider compass. 
 It reflected its action thence into the yet barbarous 
 Latium. It created the civilization of Rome ; Rome 
 carried that civilization abroad among the nations of 
 the earth, and enstampt her image wherever she set 
 down the foot of her power. Barbarism came to re- 
 
 
48 
 
 ceive the teachings of this civilization, at length 
 christianized, and to open a sphere of action for the 
 physical sciences and useful arts in the nether masses. 
 Then came the era for deepening as well as widen- 
 ing the action of this law, by the aid of physical dis- 
 covery and invention. Fire arms resolved the feudal 
 system into a community of nations. The press in- 
 spired that community with a common soul. The 
 compass revealed this western world, and pioneered 
 to these shores the select mind and choicest institu- 
 tions of Europe. It still urged on its discoveries ; 
 it has nearly completed the exploration of the globe. 
 And now comes this invention of Watt to perfect 
 what these discoveries have begun, and then to pen- 
 etrate into every part of the world, and to carry a 
 Christian civilization wherever it penetrates. Sprung, 
 armed for its mission, from the head of the progres- 
 sive humanity, it cometh forth the genuine offspring 
 of that one Eternal Reason which hath ruled through 
 all ages past. It embraceth within itself, struggling 
 for utterance, the history of millenniums to come. 
 It standeth before the portals of the future, but as no 
 veiled Isis, as no mute and motionless Harpocrates. 
 It hath a language its own ; and as it moveth to its 
 task, it talketh freely of its mission. Thou unam- 
 biguous prophet ! what a voice for the future speak- 
 eth from the expanding volume of thy force! What 
 a tale to the future is foretokened in the movements 
 of thy demon strength ! Great fashioner of the des- 
 tinies of nations ! Thou hast hardly commenced thy 
 career of victory ; but when it is finished, all lands 
 
49 
 
 and all seas shall lie beneath thy feet, at once con- 
 quered and glorified by thy conquest ! 
 
 And now, gentlemen, if such be the law of human 
 progress, if it must thus ever operate from the past 
 into the present, and through the present to the 
 future, and as by a sort of logical process, what 
 becomes of those doctrines of social and political 
 reform, with which our land is now so rife, and with 
 which the public ear is so incessantly abused ? What 
 becomes of those ideas of a natural, absolute, un- 
 limited and uncontrollable popular sovereignty, which 
 is at once to bring humanity to perfection, by estab- 
 lishing a natural liberty and a natural equality in 
 social and political life ? There may be a dire clash- 
 ing among some of the ideas that are thus brought 
 forcibly together ; but the wise advocates of these 
 doctrines see it not, feel it not. They have sundry 
 naked abstractions, which they have created for 
 themselves, or others for them, upon which, by their 
 own unassisted wisdom, they hope to build up soci- 
 ety anew, on an improved plan. They would cut 
 clear from the past ; they would establish a new 
 theory of human nature, and base a human progress 
 upon ideas and laws their own. Well ! let them do 
 it; but let them do it as they must with material 
 their own. Let them create their world, and their 
 man and woman, after their own image, and then, on 
 their principles, run their course of events in rivalry 
 with that of Divine Providence. But let them not 
 lay their hands on those whom God has created af- 
 ter his image, and who are moving on to their high 
 7 
 
50 
 
 destiny under his divine guidance. Let them not 
 undertake to substitute their will for His, their laws 
 for His, over any except their own, and we shall 
 then know what that progress is about which they 
 are now so abundantly eloquent. 
 
 In their estimation, all social and political institu- 
 tions can be removed, by their sovereign wills, with 
 the same ease that you take the glove from your 
 hand, and any of their own imaginings substituted 
 in their place. Their abstractions have no refer- 
 ence to the influence of the past on the present ; 
 no reference to the existing social or political or- 
 ganizations which have grown out of by-gone cen- 
 turies; and it is not strange that they are utterly 
 astonished to find, when they attempt to carry them 
 into effect, that they are entering into conflict with 
 all that the past has done for us. And then it is 
 very natural for them to proceed, from lauding their 
 own principles, to the abuse of the past ; to the 
 abuse of all our ancestral institutions and social and 
 political ideas, as antiquated, and as obstructions to 
 human progress. 
 
 Gentlemen, the present state of human progress 
 is a child, of which the hoary past is the venerable 
 father. And the child bears the image, and feels 
 the pulsating blood, and enjoys the patrimony of 
 its sepulchred parent. There is not an institu- 
 tion, or science, or art, of any practical value, 
 nothing of the good or true, in social or political 
 life, that has not come down to us as a creation, or 
 as a result of the labors and achievements of the 
 venerated dead ; the dead, not of modern times 
 

 51 
 
 merely, but of far distant antiquity. The blood 
 of Thermopylae, of Marathon, and Platea, flowed 
 not in vain for us. Homer sung, Plato mused, 
 and Socrates moralized, for our benefit. For us 
 Rome went forth in her invincible legion to con- 
 quer and humanize ; for us Roman wisdom planned 
 and Roman valor fought, and laid broad and 
 deep the foundations of Christendom. Aye, some- 
 thing even of our nearer selves appears in the 
 action of the distant past. That blood, which now 
 circulates warm through the Anglo-American heart, 
 may be traced through centuries of light and 
 shadow, of triumph and trial, in the Anglo-Saxon 
 line. For us it struggled under the Norman rule, 
 and created our idea of liberty and law ; for us it 
 struck the harp of heaven in Milton, of nature in 
 Shakspeare, and proclaimed the laws of the uni- 
 verse in the philosophy of Newton. O ! let us 
 build monuments to the past. Let them tower on 
 mound and mountain ; let them rise from the cor- 
 ners of our streets, and in our public squares, that 
 childhood may sport its marbles at their basements, 
 and lisp the names of the commemorated dead, as 
 it lisps the letters of its alphabet. Thus shall the 
 past be made to stand out in a monumental history, 
 that may be seen by the eye, and touched by the 
 hand. Thus shall it be made to subsist to the sens- 
 es, as it still lives in the organization of the social 
 mind ; an organization from which its errors have 
 died out, or are dying, and in which nothing but its 
 Herculean labors do, or are to endure. Yes, let 
 us sanctify the past, and let no hand, with sacrile- 
 
 
gious violence dare mar its vene rabid aspect* 
 Change indeed must come, but then let it como by 
 force of the necessary law of progress. So shall the 
 present still ever build and improve on a patrimony 
 formed by the deeds of heroic virtue, and the labors 
 of exalted intellect. So shall the great and glori- 
 ous be added to the great and glorious, and the 
 labors of the illustrious dead still be made fruitful 
 by the labors of the illustrious living, time without 
 end. 
 
 Such is the nature of that inheritance which has 
 come down to us from the past, worthy to be hon- 
 ored by every philanthropic feeling for the present, 
 and cherished by every hope for the future. And 
 now do these theorists expect us to renounce this 
 patrimony, and go and build on their barren ab- 
 stractions ? commence a new progress on their 
 empty speculations ? And shall we do it ? No, 
 never, never, whilst humanity, through her grand 
 organization of nations, yields a necessary obedi- 
 ence to the laws of the Supreme Reason, or Nature, 
 through her universal frame of worlds, stands fast 
 in the laws of her God ! 
 
0470! 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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