It would be unjust, fellow-citizens, on this occasion, while we

express our veneration for him who is the immediate subject of these

remarks, were we to omit a most respectful, affectionate, and

grateful mention of those other great men, his colleagues, who stood

with him, and with the same spirit, the same devotion, took part in

the interesting transaction. HANCOCK, the proscribed HANCOCK, exiled

from his home by a military governor, cut off by proclamation from the

mercy of the crown,--Heaven reserved for him the distinguished honor

of putting this great question to the vote, and of writing his own

name first, and most conspicuously, on that parchment which spoke

defiance to the power of the crown of England. There, too, is the

name of that other proscribed patriot, SAMUEL ADAMS, a man who

hungered and thirsted for the independence of his country; who

thought the Declaration halted and lingered, being himself not only

ready, but eager, for it, long before it was proposed; a man of the

deepest sagacity, the dearest foresight, and the profoundest judgment

in men. And there is GERRY, himself among the earliest and the

foremost of the patriots, found, when the battle of Lexington summoned

them to common counsels, by the side of WARREN; a man who lived to

serve his country at home and abroad, and to die in the second place

in the government. There, too, is the inflexible, the upright, the

Spartan character, ROBERT TREAT PAINE. He also lived to serve his

country through the struggle, and then withdrew from her councils,

only that he might give his labors and his life to his native State,

in another relation. These names, fellow-citizens, are the treasures

of the Commonwealth; and they are treasures which grow brighter by

time.

* * * * *

It is now necessary to resume the narrative, and to finish with great

brevity the notice of the lives of those whose virtues and services we

have met to commemorate.

Mr. Adams remained in Congress from its first meeting till November,

1777, when he was appointed Minister to France. He proceeded on that

service in the February following, embarking in the frigate Boston, from

the shore of his native town, at the foot of Mount Wollaston. The year

following, he was appointed commissioner to treat of peace with England.

Returning to the United States, he was a delegate from Braintree in the

Convention for framing the Constitution of this Commonwealth, in

1780.[78] At the latter end of the same year, he again went abroad in

the diplomatic service of the country, and was employed at various

courts, and occupied with various negotiations, until 1788. The

particulars of these interesting and important services this occasion

does not allow time to relate. In 1782 he concluded our first treaty

with Holland. His negotiations with that republic, his efforts to

persuade the States-General to recognize our independence, his incessant

and indefatigable exertions to represent the American cause favorably on

the Continent, and to counteract the designs of its enemies, open and

secret, and his successful undertaking to obtain loans, on the credit of

a nation yet new and unknown, are among his most arduous, most useful,

most honorable services. It was his fortune to bear a part in the

negotiation for peace with England, and in something more than six

years from the Declaration which he had so strenuously supported, he had

the satisfaction of seeing the minister plenipotentiary of the crown

subscribe his name to the instrument which declared that his "Britannic

Majesty acknowledged the United States to be free, sovereign, and

independent." In these important transactions, Mr. Adams's conduct

received the marked approbation of Congress and of the country.

While abroad, in 1787, he published his Defence of the American

Constitutions; a work of merit and ability, though composed with haste,

on the spur of a particular occasion, in the midst of other occupations,

and under circumstances not admitting of careful revision. The immediate

object of the work was to counteract the weight of opinions advanced by

several popular European writers of that day, M. Turgot, the Abbe de

Mably, and Dr. Price, at a time when the people of the United States

were employed in forming and revising their systems of government.

Returning to the United States in 1788, he found the new government

about going into operation, and was himself elected the first

Vice-President, a situation which he filled with reputation for eight

years, at the expiration of which he was raised to the Presidential

chair, as immediate successor to the immortal Washington. In this high

station he was succeeded by Mr. Jefferson, after a memorable controversy

between their respective friends, in 1801; and from that period his

manner of life has been known to all who hear me. He has lived, for

five-and-twenty years, with every enjoyment that could render old age

happy. Not inattentive to the occurrences of the times, political cares

have yet not materially, or for any long time, disturbed his repose. In

1820 he acted as elector of President and Vice-President, and in the

same year we saw him, then at the age of eighty-five, a member of the

Convention of this Commonwealth called to revise the Constitution. Forty

years before, he had been one of those who formed that Constitution; and

he had now the pleasure of witnessing that there was little which the

people desired to change.[79] Possessing all his faculties to the end

of his long life, with an unabated love of reading and contemplation, in

the centre of interesting circles of friendship and affection, he was

blessed in his retirement with whatever of repose and felicity the

condition of man allows. He had, also, other enjoyments. He saw around

him that prosperity and general happiness which had been the object of

his public cares and labors. No man ever beheld more clearly, and for a

longer time, the great and beneficial effects of the services rendered

by himself to his country. That liberty which he so early defended, that

independence of which he was so able an advocate and supporter, he saw,

we trust, firmly and securely established. The population of the country

thickened around him faster, and extended wider, than his own sanguine

predictions had anticipated; and the wealth, respectability, and power

of the nation sprang up to a magnitude which it is quite impossible he

could have expected to witness in his day. He lived also to behold those

principles of civil freedom which had been developed, established, and

practically applied in America, attract attention, command respect, and

awaken imitation, in other regions of the globe; and well might, and

well did, he exclaim, "Where will the consequences of the American

Revolution end?"

If any thing yet remain to fill this cup of happiness, let it be added,

that he lived to see a great and intelligent people bestow the highest

honor in their gift where he had bestowed his own kindest parental

affections and lodged his fondest hopes. Thus honored in life, thus

happy at death, he saw the JUBILEE, and he died; and with the last

prayers which trembled on his lips was the fervent supplication for his

country, "Independence for ever!"[80]

* * * * *

Mr. Jefferson, having been occupied in the years 1778 and 1779 in the

important service of revising the laws of Virginia, was elected Governor

of that State, as successor to Patrick Henry, and held the situation

when the State was invaded by the British arms. In 1781 he published his

Notes on Virginia, a work which attracted attention in Europe as well as

America, dispelled many misconceptions respecting this continent, and

gave its author a place among men distinguished for science. In

November, 1783, he again took his seat in the Continental Congress, but

in the May following was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary, to act

abroad, in the negotiation of commercial treaties, with Dr. Franklin and

Mr. Adams. He proceeded to France in execution of this mission,

embarking at Boston; and that was the only occasion on which he ever

visited this place. In 1785 he was appointed Minister to France, the

duties of which situation he continued to perform until October, 1789,

when he obtained leave to retire, just on the eve of that tremendous

revolution which has so much agitated the world in our times. Mr.

Jefferson's discharge of his diplomatic duties was marked by great

ability, diligence, and patriotism; and while he resided at Paris, in

one of the most interesting periods, his character for intelligence, his

love of knowledge and of the society of learned men, distinguished him

in the highest circles of the French capital. No court in Europe had at

that time in Paris a representative commanding or enjoying higher

regard, for political knowledge or for general attainments, than the

minister of this then infant republic. Immediately on his return to his

native country, at the organization of the government under the present

Constitution, his talents and experience recommended him to President

Washington for the first office in his gift. He was placed at the head

of the Department of State. In this situation, also, he manifested

conspicuous ability. His correspondence with the ministers of other

powers residing here, and his instructions to our own diplomatic agents

abroad, are among our ablest state papers. A thorough knowledge of the

laws and usages of nations, perfect acquaintance with the immediate

subject before him, great felicity, and still greater facility, in

writing, show themselves in whatever effort his official situation

called on him to make. It is believed by competent judges, that the

diplomatic intercourse of the government of the United States, from the

first meeting of the Continental Congress in 1774 to the present time,

taken together, would not suffer, in respect to the talent with which it

has been conducted, by comparison with any thing which other and older

governments can produce; and to the attainment of this respectability

and distinction Mr. Jefferson has contributed his full part.

On the retirement of General Washington from the Presidency, and the

election of Mr. Adams to that office in 1797, he was chosen

Vice-President. While presiding in this capacity over the deliberations

of the Senate, he compiled and published a Manual of Parliamentary

Practice, a work of more labor and more merit than is indicated by its

size. It is now received as the general standard by which proceedings

are regulated, not only in both Houses of Congress, but in most of the

other legislative bodies in the country. In 1801 he was elected

President, in opposition to Mr. Adams, and reelected in 1805, by a vote

approaching towards unanimity.

From the time of his final retirement from public life, in 1808, Mr.

Jefferson lived as became a wise man. Surrounded by affectionate

friends, his ardor in the pursuit of knowledge undiminished, with

uncommon health and unbroken spirits, he was able to enjoy largely the

rational pleasures of life, and to partake in that public prosperity

which he had so much contributed to produce. His kindness and

hospitality, the charm of his conversation, the ease of his manners, the

extent of his acquirements, and, especially, the full store of

Revolutionary incidents which he had treasured in his memory, and which

he knew when and how to dispense, rendered his abode in a high degree

attractive to his admiring countrymen, while his high public and

scientific character drew towards him every intelligent and educated

traveller from abroad. Both Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson had the pleasure

of knowing that the respect which they so largely received was not paid

to their official stations. They were not men made great by office; but

great men, on whom the country for its own benefit had conferred office.

There was that in them which office did not give, and which the

relinquishment of office did not, and could not, take away. In their

retirement, in the midst of their fellow-citizens, themselves private

citizens, they enjoyed as high regard and esteem as when filling the

most important places of public trust.

There remained to Mr. Jefferson yet one other work of patriotism and

beneficence, the establishment of a university in his native State. To

this object he devoted years of incessant and anxious attention, and by

the enlightened liberality of the Legislature of Virginia, and the

cooeperation of other able and zealous friends, he lived to see it

accomplished. May all success attend this infant seminary; and may

those who enjoy its advantages, as often as their eyes shall rest on the

neighboring height, recollect what they owe to their disinterested and

indefatigable benefactor; and may letters honor him who thus labored in

the cause of letters![81]

Thus useful, and thus respected, passed the old age of Thomas Jefferson.

But time was on its ever-ceaseless wing, and was now bringing the last

hour of this illustrious man. He saw its approach with undisturbed

serenity. He counted the moments as they passed, and beheld that his

last sands were falling. That day, too, was at hand which he had helped

to make immortal. One wish, one hope, if it were not presumptuous, beat

in his fainting breast. Could it be so, might it please God, he would

desire once more to see the sun, once more to look abroad on the scene

around him, on the great day of liberty. Heaven, in its mercy, fulfilled

that prayer. He saw that sun, he enjoyed its sacred light, he thanked

God for this mercy, and bowed his aged head to the grave. "Felix, non

vitae tantum claritate, sed etiam opportunitate mortis."

The last public labor of Mr. Jefferson naturally suggests the expression

of the high praise which is due, both to him and to Mr. Adams, for their

uniform and zealous attachment to learning, and to the cause of general

knowledge. Of the advantages of learning, indeed, and of literary

accomplishments, their own characters were striking recommendations and

illustrations. They were scholars, ripe and good scholars; widely

acquainted with ancient, as well as modern literature, and not

altogether uninstructed in the deeper sciences. Their acquirements,

doubtless, were different, and so were the particular objects of their

literary pursuits; as their tastes and characters, in these respects,

differed like those of other men. Being, also, men of busy lives, with

great objects requiring action constantly before them, their attainments

in letters did not become showy or obtrusive. Yet I would hazard the

opinion, that, if we could now ascertain all the causes which gave them

eminence and distinction in the midst of the great men with whom they

acted, we should find not among the least their early acquisitions in

literature, the resources which it furnished, the promptitude and

facility which it communicated, and the wide field it opened for analogy

and illustration; giving them thus, on every subject, a larger view and

a broader range, as well for discussion as for the government of their

own conduct.

Literature sometimes disgusts, and pretension to it much oftener

disgusts, by appearing to hang loosely on the character, like something

foreign or extraneous, not a part, but an ill-adjusted appendage; or by

seeming to overload and weigh it down by its unsightly bulk, like the

productions of bad taste in architecture, where there is massy and

cumbrous ornament without strength or solidity of column. This has

exposed learning, and especially classical learning, to reproach. Men

have seen that it might exist without mental superiority, without vigor,

without good taste, and without utility. But in such cases classical

learning has only not inspired natural talent; or, at most, it has but

made original feebleness of intellect, and natural bluntness of

perception, something more conspicuous. The question, after all, if it

be a question, is, whether literature, ancient as well as modern, does

not assist a good understanding, improve natural good taste, add

polished armor to native strength, and render its possessor, not only

more capable of deriving private happiness from contemplation and

reflection, but more accomplished also for action in the affairs of

life, and especially for public action. Those whose memories we now

honor were learned men; but their learning was kept in its proper place,

and made subservient to the uses and objects of life. They were

scholars, not common nor superficial; but their scholarship was so in

keeping with their character, so blended and inwrought, that careless

observers, or bad judges, not seeing an ostentatious display of it,

might infer that it did not exist; forgetting, or not knowing, that

classical learning in men who act in conspicuous public stations,

perform duties which exercise the faculty of writing, or address

popular, deliberative, or judicial bodies, is often felt where it is

little seen, and sometimes felt more effectually because it is not seen

at all.

But the cause of knowledge, in a more enlarged sense, the cause of

general knowledge and of popular education, had no warmer friends, nor

more powerful advocates, than Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson. On this

foundation they knew the whole republican system rested; and this great

and all-important truth they strove to impress, by all the means in

their power. In the early publication already referred to, Mr. Adams

expresses the strong and just sentiment, that the education of the poor

is more important, even to the rich themselves, than all their own

riches. On this great truth, indeed, is founded that unrivalled, that

invaluable political and moral institution, our own blessing and the

glory of our fathers, the New England system of free schools.

As the promotion of knowledge had been the object of their regard

through life, so these great men made it the subject of their

testamentary bounty. Mr. Jefferson is understood to have bequeathed his

library to the University of Virginia, and that of Mr. Adams is bestowed

on the inhabitants of Quincy.

Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson, fellow-citizens, were successively

Presidents of the United States. The comparative merits of their

respective administrations for a long time agitated and divided public

opinion. They were rivals, each supported by numerous and powerful

portions of the people, for the highest office. This contest, partly

the cause and partly the consequence of the long existence of two great

political parties in the country, is now part of the history of our

government. We may naturally regret that any thing should have

occurred to create difference and discord between those who had

acted harmoniously and efficiently in the great concerns of the

Revolution. But this is not the time, nor this the occasion, for

entering into the grounds of that difference, or for attempting to

discuss the merits of the questions which it involves. As practical

questions, they were canvassed when the measures which they regarded

were acted on and adopted; and as belonging to history, the time has

not come for their consideration.

It is, perhaps, not wonderful, that, when the Constitution of the United

States first went into operation, different opinions should be

entertained as to the extent of the powers conferred by it. Here was a

natural source of diversity of sentiment. It is still less wonderful,

that that event, nearly contemporary with our government under the

present Constitution, which so entirely shocked all Europe, and

disturbed our relations with her leading powers, should be thought, by

different men, to have different bearings on our own prosperity; and

that the early measures adopted by the government of the United States,

in consequence of this new state of things, should be seen in opposite

lights. It is for the future historian, when what now remains of

prejudice and misconception shall have passed away, to state these

different opinions, and pronounce impartial judgment. In the mean time,

all good men rejoice, and well may rejoice, that the sharpest

differences sprung out of measures which, whether right or wrong, have

ceased with the exigencies that gave them birth, and have left no

permanent effect, either on the Constitution or on the general

prosperity of the country. This remark, I am aware, may be supposed to

have its exception in one measure, the alteration of the Constitution as

to the mode of choosing President; but it is true in its general

application. Thus the course of policy pursued towards France in 1798,

on the one hand, and the measures of commercial restriction commenced in

1807, on the other, both subjects of warm and severe opposition, have

passed away and left nothing behind them. They were temporary, and

whether wise or unwise, their consequences were limited to their

respective occasions. It is equally clear, at the same time, and it is

equally gratifying, that those measures of both administrations which

were of durable importance, and which drew after them momentous and long

remaining consequences, have received general approbation. Such was the

organization, or rather the creation, of the navy, in the administration

of Mr. Adams; such the acquisition of Louisiana, in that of Mr.

Jefferson. The country, it may safely be added, is not likely to be

willing either to approve, or to reprobate, indiscriminately, and in the

aggregate, all the measures of either, or of any, administration. The

dictate of reason and of justice is, that, holding each one his own

sentiments on the points of difference, we imitate the great men

themselves in the forbearance and moderation which they have cherished,

and in the mutual respect and kindness which they have been so much

inclined to feel and to reciprocate.

No men, fellow-citizens, ever served their country with more entire

exemption from every imputation of selfish and mercenary motives, than

those to whose memory we are paying these proofs of respect. A

suspicion of any disposition to enrich themselves, or to profit by their

public employments, never rested on either. No sordid motive approached

them. The inheritance which they have left to their children is of their

character and their fame.

Fellow-citizens, I will detain you no longer by this faint and feeble

tribute to the memory of the illustrious dead. Even in other hands,

adequate justice could not be done to them, within the limits of this

occasion. Their highest, their best praise, is your deep conviction of

their merits, your affectionate gratitude for their labors and their

services. It is not my voice, it is this cessation of ordinary pursuits,

this arresting of all attention, these solemn ceremonies, and this

crowded house, which speak their eulogy. Their fame, indeed, is safe.

That is now treasured up beyond the reach of accident. Although no

sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear

record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the

land they honored. Marble columns may, indeed, moulder into dust, time

may erase all impress from the crumbling stone, but their fame remains;

for with AMERICAN LIBERTY it rose, and with AMERICAN LIBERTY ONLY Can it

perish. It was the last swelling peal of yonder choir, "THEIR BODIES ARE

BURIED IN PEACE, BUT THEIR NAME LIVETH EVERMORE." I catch that solemn

song, I echo that lofty strain of funeral triumph, "THEIR NAME LIVETH

EVERMORE."

* * * * *

Of the illustrious signers of the Declaration of Independence there now

remains only CHARLES CARROLL. He seems an aged oak, standing alone on

the plain, which time has spared a little longer after all its

contemporaries have been levelled with the dust. Venerable object! we

delight to gather round its trunk, while yet it stands, and to dwell

beneath its shadow. Sole survivor of an assembly of as great men as the

world has witnessed, in a transaction one of the most important that

history records, what thoughts, what interesting reflections, must fill

his elevated and devout soul! If he dwell on the past, how touching its

recollections; if he survey the present, how happy, how joyous, how full

of the fruition of that hope, which his ardent patriotism indulged; if

he glance at the future, how does the prospect of his country's

advancement almost bewilder his weakened conception Fortunate,

distinguished patriot! Interesting relic of the past! Let him know that,

while we honor the dead, we do not forget the living; and that there is

not a heart here which does not fervently pray, that Heaven may keep him

yet back from the society of his companions.

* * * * *

And now, fellow-citizens, let us not retire from this occasion without a

deep and solemn conviction of the duties which have devolved upon us.

This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the

dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to preserve,

ours to transmit. Generations past and generations to come hold us

responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behind, admonish

us, with their anxious paternal voices; posterity calls out to us, from

the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes;

all, all conjure us to act wisely, and faithfully, in the relation which

we sustain. We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us; but by

virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good

principle and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessing,

through our day, and to leave it unimpaired to our children. Let us feel

deeply how much of what we are and of what we possess we owe to this

liberty, and to these institutions of government. Nature has, indeed,

given us a soil which yields bounteously to the hand of industry, the

mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies over our heads

shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to

civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals,

without religious culture; and how can these be enjoyed, in all their

extent and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise

institutions and a free government? Fellow-citizens, there is not one of

us, there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this moment,

and at every moment, experience, in his own condition, and in the

condition of those most near and dear to him, the influence and the

benefits of this liberty and these institutions. Let us then acknowledge

the blessing, let us feel it deeply and powerfully, let us cherish a

strong affection for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The

blood of our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope

of posterity, let it not be blasted.

The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world around us, a

topic to which, I fear, I advert too often, and dwell on too long,

cannot be altogether omitted here. Neither individuals nor nations can

perform their part well, until they understand and feel its importance,

and comprehend and justly appreciate all the duties belonging to it.

It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty

feeling of self-importance, but it is that we may judge justly of our

situation, and of our own duties, that I earnestly urge upon you this

consideration of our position and our character among the nations of

the earth. It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute

against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era commences

in human affairs. This era is distinguished by free representative

governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved systems of

national intercourse, by a newly awakened and an unconquerable spirit of

free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowledge through the community,

such as has been before altogether unknown and unheard of. America,

America, our country, fellow-citizens, our own dear and native land, is

inseparably connected, fast bound up, in fortune and by fate, with

these great interests. If they fall, we fall with them; if they stand,

it will be because we have maintained them. Let us contemplate, then,

this connection, which binds the prosperity of others to our own; and

let us manfully discharge all the duties which it imposes. If we cherish

the virtues and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to

carry on the work of human liberty and human happiness. Auspicious

omens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our own firmament now

shines brightly upon our path. WASHINGTON is in the clear, upper sky.

These other stars have now joined the American constellation; they

circle round their centre, and the heavens beam with new light.

Beneath this illumination let us walk the course of life, and at its

close devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent of us all,

to the Divine Benignity.

FOOTNOTES

[67] A Discourse in Commemoration of the Lives and Services of John

Adams and Thomas Jefferson, delivered in Faneuil Hall, Boston,

on the 2d of August, 1826.

[68] Hon. Josiah Quincy.

[69] Extract of a letter written by John Adams to Nathan Webb, dated at

Worcester, Massachusetts, October 12, 1755.

"Soon after the Reformation, a few people came over into this

New World, for conscience' sake. Perhaps this apparently trivial

incident may transfer the great seat of empire into America. It

looks likely to me; for, if we can remove the turbulent Gallics,

our people, according to the exactest computations, will, in

another century, become more numerous than England itself.

Should this be the case, since we have, I may say, all the naval

stores of the nation in our hands, it will be easy to obtain a

mastery of the seas; and then the united force of all Europe

will not be able to subdue us. The only way to keep us from

setting up for ourselves is to disunite us.

"Be not surprised that I am turned politician. This whole town

is immersed in politics. The interests of nations, and all the

dira of war, make the subject of every conversation. I sit and

hear, and after having been led through a maze of sage

observations, I sometimes retire, and, laying things together,

form some reflections pleasing to myself. The produce of one of

these reveries you have read above."

[70] Nearly all that was known of this celebrated argument, at the time

the present Discourse was delivered, was derived from the

recollections of John Adams, as preserved in Minot's History of

Massachusetts, Vol. II. p. 91. See Life and Works of John Adams,

Vol. II. p. 124, published in the course of the past year

(1850), in the Appendix to which, p. 521, will be found a paper

hitherto unpublished, containing notes of the argument of Otis,

"which seem to be the foundation of the sketch published by

Minot." Tudor's Life of James Otis, p. 61.

[71] See Life and Works of John Adams, Vol. II. p. 150, Vol. III. p.

447, and North American Review, Vol. LXXI. p. 430.

[72] Cicero de Officiis, Lib. I. Sec. 43.

[73] A fac-simile of this ever-memorable state paper, as drafted by Mr.

Jefferson, with the interlineations alluded to in the text, is

contained in Mr. Jefferson's Writings, Vol. I. p. 146. See,

also, in reference to the history of the Declaration, the Life

and Works of John Adams Vol. II. p. 512 _et seq._

[74] This question, of the power of Parliament over the Colonies, was

discussed with singular ability, by Governor Hutchinson on the

one side, and the House of Representatives of Massachusetts on

the other, in 1773. The argument of the House is in the form of

an answer to the Governor's Message, and was reported by Mr.

Samuel Adams, Mr. Hancock, Mr. Hawley, Mr. Bowers, Mr. Hobson,

Mr. Foster, Mr. Phillips, and Mr. Thayer. As the power of the

Parliament had been acknowledged, so far at least as to affect

us by laws of trade, it was not easy to settle the line of

distinction. It was thought, however, to be very clear, that the

charters of the Colonies had exempted them from the general

legislation of the British Parliament. See Massachusetts State

Papers, p. 351. The important assistance rendered by John Adams

in the preparation of the answer of the House to the Message of

the Governor may be learned from the Life and Works of John

Adams, Vol. II. p. 311 _et seq._

[75] The official copy of the Declaration, as engrossed and signed by

the members of Congress, is framed and preserved in the Hall

over the Patent-Office at Washington.

[76] See Life and Works of John Adams, Vol. II. p. 417 _et seq._

[77] On the authorship of this speech, see Note at the end of the

Discourse.

[78] In this Convention he served as chairman of the committee for

preparing the draft of a Constitution.

[79] Upon the organization of this body, 15th November, 1820, John

Adams was elected its President; an office which the infirmities

of age compelled him to decline. For the interesting proceedings

of the Convention on this occasion, the address of Chief Justice

Parker, and the reply of Mr. Adams, see Journal of Debates and

Proceedings in the Convention of Delegates chosen to revise the

Constitution of Massachusetts, p. 8 _et seq._

[80] For an account of Mr. Webster's last interview with Mr. Adams, see

March's Reminiscences of Congress, p. 62.

[81] Mr. Jefferson himself considered his services in establishing the

University of Virginia as among the most important rendered by

him to the country. In Mr. Wirt's Eulogy, it is stated that a

private memorandum was found among his papers, containing the

following inscription to be placed on his monument:--"Here was

buried Thomas Jefferson, Author of the Declaration of

Independence, of the Statutes of Virginia for Religious Freedom,

and Father of the University of Virginia." Eulogies on Adams and

Jefferson, p. 426.

NOTE.

Page 136.

The question has often been asked, whether the anonymous speech against

the Declaration of Independence, and the speech in support of it

ascribed to John Adams in the preceding Discourse, are a portion of the

debates which actually took place in 1776 in the Continental Congress.

Not only has this inquiry been propounded in the public papers, but

several letters on the subject have been addressed to Mr. Webster and

his friends. For this reason, it may be proper to state, that those

speeches were composed by Mr. Webster, after the manner of the ancient

historians, as embodying in an impressive form the arguments relied upon

by the friends and opponents of the measure, respectively. They of

course represent the speeches that were actually made on both sides, but

no report of the debates of this period has been preserved, and the

orator on the present occasion had no aid in framing these addresses,

but what was furnished by general tradition and the known line of

argument pursued by the speakers and writers of that day for and against

the measure of Independence. The first sentence of the speech ascribed

to Mr. Adams was of course suggested by the parting scene with Jonathan

Sewall, as described by Mr. Adams himself, in the Preface to the Letters

of Novanglus and Massachusettensis.

So much interest has been taken in this subject, that it has been

thought proper, by way of settling the question in the most authentic

manner, to give publicity to the following answer, written by Mr.

Webster to one of the letters of inquiry above alluded to.

"_Washington, 22 January, 1846._

"DEAR SIR:--

"I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the

18th instant. Its contents hardly surprise me, as I have received

very many similar communications.

"Your inquiry is easily answered. The Congress of the Revolution sat

with closed doors. Its proceedings were made known to the public,

from time to time, by printing its journal; but the debates were not

published. So far as I know, there is not existing, in print or

manuscript, the speech, or any part or fragment of the speech,

delivered by Mr. Adams on the question of the Declaration of

Independence. We only know from the testimony of his auditors, that

he spoke with remarkable ability and characteristic earnestness.

"The day after the Declaration was made, Mr. Adams, in writing to a

friend,[82] declared the event to be one that 'ought to be

commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion

to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade,

with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations,

from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward,

for evermore.'

"And on the day of his death, hearing the noise of bells and cannon,

he asked the occasion. On being reminded that it was 'Independent

day,' he replied, 'Independence for ever!' These expressions were

introduced into the speech _supposed_ to have been made by him. For

the rest, I must be answerable. The speech was written by me, in my

house in Boston, the day before the delivery of the Discourse in

Faneuil Hall; a poor substitute, I am sure it would appear to be, if

we could now see the speech actually made by Mr. Adams on that

transcendently important occasion.

"I am, respectfully,

"Your obedient servant,

"DANIEL WEBSTER."

FOOTNOTES

[82] See Letters of John Adams to his Wife, Vol. I. p. 128, note.

THE ELECTION OF 1825.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

It has already been observed in the Introductory Memoir, that, from the

return of peace in 1815, a tendency manifested itself in many parts of

the country toward a dissolution of the old parties. The overwrought

feelings of the people demanded repose. The subject-matter of several

of the points of party dissension had expired with the war. New

questions of great public interest, traversing the old party lines, had

sprung up. General Jackson, in a letter addressed to Mr. Monroe, in

1817, on the subject of the formation of his cabinet, had advised him

to discard the former party divisions. In the progress of his eight

years' administration, it was every day more and more apparent, that

the old party influences had spent their force. It became at last

impossible to recognize their continued existence.

With the approach of the national election in the autumn of 1824, at

which four candidates were supported for the office of President, no

thoughts were entertained in any quarter of recommending either of them

as a candidate to be supported or opposed by one or the other of the

ancient parties. If there was any seeming departure from this principle,

it must have been to some quite limited extent, and for supposed

advantage in narrow localities. In the Union at large, no such attempt

was made. The several candidates were sustained on broad national

grounds.

This was eminently the case in Massachusetts, where a very large

majority of the people, assuming the name of National Republicans, and

without reference to former divisions, were united in the support of

their fellow-citizen, John Quincy Adams. At the State elections next

succeeding his accession to the Presidency, in the spring of 1825, the

candidates for the offices of Governor and Lieutenant-Governor, who, at

the last contested election, had been brought forward by the Democratic

party, were almost unanimously supported, and a union ticket for

Senators was nominated in most of the counties of the State. Such was

the case in Suffolk County; and at a meeting held in Faneuil Hall,

without distinction of party, to ratify these nominations, the following

remarks were made by Mr. Webster.

THE ELECTION OF 1825.[83]

Mr. Webster said, he was quite unaccustomed to appear in that place;

having on no occasion addressed his fellow-citizens there, either to

recommend or to oppose the support of any candidates for public office.

He had long been of opinion, that to preserve the distinction and the

hostility of political parties was not consistent with the highest

degree of public good. At the same time, he did not find fault with the

conduct, nor question the motives, of those who thought otherwise. But,

entertaining this opinion, he had habitually abstained from attending on

those occasions on which the merits of public men, and of candidates for

office, were discussed, necessarily with more or less reference to party

attachment and party organization.

The present was an occasion of a different kind. The sentiment which had

called this meeting together was one of union and conciliation; a

sentiment so congenial to his own feelings, and to his opinion of the

public interest, that he could not resist the inclination to be present,

and to express his entire and hearty concurrence.

He should forbear, he said, from all remarks upon the particular names

which had been recommended by the committee. They had been selected, he

must presume, fairly, and with due consideration, by those who were

appointed for that purpose. In cases of this sort, every one cannot

expect to find every thing precisely as he might wish it; but those who

concurred in the general sentiment which dictated the selection would

naturally allow that sentiment to prevail as far as possible over

particular objections.

On the general question he would make a few remarks, begging the

indulgence of the meeting if he should say any thing which might with

more propriety proceed from others.

He hardly conceived how well disposed and intelligent minds could differ

as to the question, whether party contest and party strife, organized,

systematic, and continued, were of themselves desirable ingredients in

the composition of society. Difference of opinion on political subjects,

honorable competition, and emulous rivalry, may indeed be useful. But

these are very different things from organized and systematic party

combinations. He admitted, it was true, that party associations were

sometimes unavoidable, and perhaps necessary to the accomplishment of

other ends and purposes. But this did not prove that, of themselves,

they were good; or that they should be continued and preserved for their

own sake, when there had ceased to be any object to be effected by

them.

But there were those who supposed, that, whether political party

distinctions were or were not useful, it was impossible to abolish them.

Now he thought, on the contrary, that, under present circumstances, it

was quite impossible to continue them. New parties, indeed, might arise,

growing out of new events or new questions; but as to those old parties

which had sprung from controversies now no longer pending, or from

feelings which time and other causes had now changed, or greatly

allayed, he did not believe that they could long remain. Efforts,

indeed, made to that end, with zeal and perseverance, might delay their

extinction, but, he thought, could not prevent it. There was nothing to

keep alive these distinctions in the interests and objects which now

engaged society. New questions and new objects arise, having no

connection with the subjects of past controversies, and present interest

overcomes or absorbs the recollection of former controversies. Those who

are united on these existing questions and present interests will not be

disposed to weaken their efforts to promote them, by angry reflections

on past differences. If there were nothing _in things_ to divide about,

he thought the people not likely to maintain systematic controversies

about _men_. They have no interest in so doing. Associations formed to

support _principles_ may be called _parties_; but if they have no bond

of union but adherence to particular _men_, they become _factions_.

The people, in his opinion, were at present grateful to all parties for

whatever of good they had accomplished, and indulgent to all for

whatever of error they had committed; and, with these feelings, were now

mainly intent on the great objects which affected their present

interests. There might be exceptions to this remark; he was afraid there

were; but, nevertheless, such appeared to him to be the general feeling

in the country. It was natural that some prejudices should remain longer

than their causes, as the waves lash the shore for a time after the

storm has subsided; but the tendency of the elements was to repose.

Monopolies of all sorts were getting out of fashion; they were yielding

to liberal ideas, and to the obvious justice and expediency of fair

competition.

An administration of the general government, which had been in general

highly satisfactory to the country, had now closed.[84] He was not aware

that it could with propriety be said, that that administration had been

either supported or opposed by any party associations or on any party

principles. Certain it was, that, as far as there had been any organized

opposition to the administration, it had had nothing to do with former

parties. A new administration had now commenced, and he need hardly say

that the most liberal and conciliatory principles had been avowed in the

Inaugural Address of the newly elected President. It could not be

doubted that his administration would conform to those principles. Thus

far, he believed, its course had given general satisfaction. After what

they all had seen in relation to the gentleman holding the highest

appointment in the executive department under the President, he would

take this opportunity to say, that, having been a member of the House of

Representatives for six years, during the greater part of which time Mr.

Clay had presided in that House, he was most happy in being able, in a

manner less formal and more explicit than by concurring in the usual

vote of thanks, to express his own opinion of his liberality,

independence, and honorable feeling. And he would take this occasion

also to add, if his opinion could be of any value in such a case, that

he thought nothing more unfounded than that that gentleman owed his

present situation to any unworthy compromise or arrangement whatever.

He owed it to his talent, to his prominent standing in the community, to

his course of public service, not now a short one, and to the high

estimation in which he stands with that part of the country to which he

belongs.

Remarks, Mr. Webster proceeded to say, had been made from the chair,

very kind and partial, as to the manner in which he had discharged

the duties which he owed to his constituents in the House of

Representatives. He wished to say, that if he had been able to render

any, the humblest services, either to the public or his constituents,

in that place, it was owing wholly to the liberal manner in which his

efforts there had been received.

Having alluded to the Inaugural Address, he did not mean in the

slightest degree to detract from its merits, when he now said, that, in

his opinion, if either of the other candidates had succeeded in the

election, he also would have adopted a liberal course of policy. He had

no reason to believe that the sentiments of either of those gentlemen

were, in this respect, narrow or contracted. He fully believed the

contrary, in regard to both of them; but if they had been otherwise, he

thought still that expediency or necessity would have controlled their

inclinations.

I forbear, said Mr. Webster, from pursuing these remarks farther. I

repeat, that I do not complain of those who have hitherto thought, or

who still think, that party organization is necessary to the public

good. I do not question their motives; and I wish to be tolerant even to

those who think that toleration ought not to be indulged.

It is said, Sir, that prosperity sometimes hardens the heart.

Perhaps, also, it may sometimes have a contrary effect, and elevate

and liberalize the feelings. If this can ever be the result of such

a cause, there is certainly in the present condition of the country

enough to inspire the most grateful and the kindest feelings. We have a

common stock both of happiness and of distinction, of which we are

all entitled, as citizens of the country, to partake. We may all

rejoice in the general prosperity, in the peace and security which

we enjoy, and in the brilliant success which has thus far attended our

republican institutions. These are circumstances which may well excite

in us all a noble pride. Our civil and political institutions, while

they answer for us all the great ends designed by them, furnish at

the same time an example to others, and diffuse blessings beyond our

own limits. In whatever part of the globe men are found contending for

political liberty, they look to the United States with a feeling of

brotherhood, and put forth a claim of kindred. The South American

states, especially, exhibit a most interesting spectacle. Let the

great men who formed our constitutions of government, who still

survive, and let the children of those who have gone to their graves,

console themselves with the reflection, that, whether they have risen or

fallen in the little contests of party, they have not only established

the liberty and happiness of their own native land, but have

conferred blessings beyond their own country, and beyond their own

thoughts, on millions of men and on successions of generations. Under

the influence of these institutions, received and adopted in principle

from our example, the whole southern continent has shaken off its

colonial subjection. A new world, filled with fresh and interesting

nations, has risen to our sight. America seems again discovered; not to

geography, but to commerce, to social intercourse, to intelligence, to

civilization, and to liberty. Fifty years ago, some of those who now

hear me, and the fathers of many others, listened in this place to

those mighty leaders, Otis and Adams. When they then uttered the

spirit-stirring sounds of Independence and Liberty, there was not a foot

of land on the continent, inhabited by civilized man, that did not

acknowledge the dominion of European power. Thank God, at this moment,

from this place to the south pole, and from sea to sea, there is hardly

a foot of land that does.

And, Sir, when these states, thus newly disenthralled and emancipated,

assume the tone and bear the port of independence, what language and

what ideas do we find associated with their newly acquired liberty? They

speak, Sir, of constitutions, of declarations of rights, of the liberty

of the press, of a congress, and of representative government. Where,

Sir, did they learn these? And when they have applied to their great

leader, and the founder of their states, the language of praise and

commendation till they have exhausted it, when unsatisfied gratitude can

express itself no otherwise, do they not call him their WASHINGTON? Sir,

the Spirit of Continental Independence, the Genius of American Liberty,

which in earlier times tried her infant voice in the halls and on the

hills of New England, utters it now, with power that seems to wake the

dead, on the plains of Mexico, and along the sides of the Andes.

"Her path, where'er the goddess roves,

Glory pursues, and generous shame,

The unconquerable mind, and Freedom's holy flame."

There is one other point of view, Sir, in regard to which I will say a

few words, though perhaps at some hazard of misinterpretation.

In the wonderful spirit of improvement and enterprise which animates the

country, we may be assured that each quarter will naturally exert its

power in favor of objects in which it is interested. This is natural and

unavoidable. Each portion, therefore, will use its best means. If the

West feels a strong interest in clearing the navigation of its mighty

streams, and opening roads through its vast forests, if the South is

equally zealous to push the production and augment the prices of its

great staples, it is reasonable to expect that these objects will be

pursued by the best means which offer themselves. And it may therefore

well deserve consideration, whether the commercial and navigating and

manufacturing interests of the North do not call on us to aid and

support them, by united counsels and united efforts. But I abstain from

enlarging on this topic. Let me rather say, that in regard to the whole

country a new era has arisen. In a time of peace, the proper pursuits of

peace engage society with a degree of enterprise and an intenseness of

application heretofore unknown. New objects are opening, and new

resources developed, on every side. We tread on a broader theatre; and

if, instead of acting our parts according to the novelty and importance

of the scene, we waste our strength in mutual crimination and

recrimination concerning the past, we shall resemble those navigators,

who, having escaped from some crooked and narrow river to the sea, now

that the whole ocean is before them, should, nevertheless, occupy

themselves with the differences which happened as they passed along

among the rocks and the shallows, instead of opening their eyes to the

wide horizon around them, spreading their sail to the propitious gale

that woos it, raising their quadrant to the sun, and grasping the helm

with the conscious hand of a master.

FOOTNOTES

[83] Speech delivered at a Meeting of Citizens of Boston, held in

Fatima Hall on the Evening of April 3d, 1825, preparatory to the

General Election in Massachusetts.

[84] That of President Monroe, which commenced on the 4th of March,

1817, and continued for two terms, till the 4th of March, 1825.

DINNER AT FANEUIL HALL.

At a public dinner given him on the 5th of June, 1828, by the

citizens of Boston (Hon. T. H. Perkins in the chair), as a mark of

respect for his services as Senator of the United States, and late

their Representative in Congress, after the annunciation of the

following toast, "Our distinguished guest,--worthy the noblest

homage which freemen can give or a freeman receive, the homage of

their hearts," Mr. Webster rose and spoke as follows:--

MR. CHAIRMAN,--The honor conferred by this occasion, as well as the

manner in which the meeting has been pleased to receive the toast which

has now been proposed to them from the chair, requires from me a most

respectful acknowledgment and a few words of honest and sincere thanks.

I should, indeed, be lost to all just feeling, or guilty of a weak and

puerile affectation, if I should fail to manifest the emotions which are

excited by these testimonials of regard, from those among whom I live,

who see me oftenest, and know me best. If the approbation of good men be

an object fit to be pursued, it is fit to be enjoyed; if it be, as it

doubtless is, one of the most stirring and invigorating motives which

operate upon the mind, it is also among the richest rewards which

console and gratify the heart.

I confess myself particularly touched and affected, Mr. President and

Gentlemen, by the kind feeling which you manifest towards me as your

fellow-citizen, your neighbor, and your friend. Respect and confidence,

in these relations of life, lie at the foundation of all valuable

character; they are as essential to solid and permanent reputation as to

durable and social happiness. I assure you, Sir, with the utmost

sincerity, that there is nothing which could flow from human approbation

and applause, no distinction, however high or alluring, no object of

ambition, which could possibly be brought within the horizon of my view,

that would tempt me, in any degree, justly to forfeit the attachment of

my private friends, or surrender my hold, as a citizen and a neighbor,

on the confidence of the community in which I live; a community to which

I owe so much, in the bosom of which I have enjoyed so much, and where I

still hope to remain, in the interchange of mutual good wishes and the

exercise of mutual good offices, for the residue of life.

The commendation bestowed by the meeting upon my attempts at public

service, I am conscious, is measured rather by their own kindness, than

by any other standard. Of those attempts, no one can think more humbly

than I do. The affairs of the general government, foreign and domestic,

are vast and various and complicated. They require from those who would

aspire to take a leading part in them an amount, a variety, and an

accuracy of information, which, even if the adequate capacity were not

wanting, are not easily attained by one whose attention is of necessity

mainly devoted to the duties of an active and laborious profession. For

this as well as many other reasons, I am conscious of having discharged

my public duties in a manner no way entitling them to the degree of

favor which has now been manifested.

And this manifestation of favor and regard is the more especially to be

referred to the candor and kindness of the meeting, on this occasion,

since it is well known, that in a recent instance, and in regard to an

important measure, I have felt it my duty to give a vote, in respect to

the expediency and propriety of which considerable difference of opinion

exists between persons equally entitled to my regard and confidence.[85]

The candid interpretation which has been given to that vote by those who

disapproved it, and the assembling together here, for the purposes of

this occasion, of those who felt pain, as well as those who felt

pleasure, at the success of the measure for which the vote was given,

afford ample proof, how far unsuspected uprightness of intention and the

exercise of an independent judgment may be respected, even by those who

differ from the results to which that exercise of judgment has arrived.

There is no class of the community for whose interests I have ever

cherished a more sincere regard, than that on whose pursuits some parts

of the measure alluded to bear with great severity. They are satisfied,

I hope, that, in supporting a measure in any degree injurious to them, I

must have been governed by other paramount reasons, satisfactory to my

own conscience; and that the blow inflicted on their interests was felt

by me almost as painfully and heavily as it could be by those on whom it

immediately fell. I am not now about to enter into the reason of that

vote, or to explain the necessity under which I found myself placed, by

a most strange and unprecedented manner of legislation, of taking the

evil of a public measure for the sake of its good; the good and the bad

provisions relating to different subjects, having not the slightest

connection with each other, yet yoked together, and kept together, for

reasons and purposes which I need not state, as they have been boldly

avowed, and are now before the public.

It was my misfortune, Sir, on that occasion, to differ from my most

estimable and worthy colleague;[86] and yet probably our difference was

not so broad as it might seem. We both saw in the measure something to

approve, and something to disapprove. If it could have been left to us

to mould and to frame it according to our opinions of what the good of

the country required, there would have been no diversity of judgment

between us, as to what should have been retained and what rejected. The

only difference was, when the measure had assumed its final shape,

whether the good it contained so far preponderated over its acknowledged

evil, as to justify the reception and support of the whole together. On

a point of this sort, and under circumstances such as those in which we

were placed, it is not strange that different minds should incline

different ways. It gives me great pleasure to bear testimony to the

constancy, the intelligence, and the conscious fidelity with which my

colleague discharged his public duty in reference to this subject. I am

happy also to have the opportunity of saying, that, if the bill had been

presented to me in the form it was when it received a negative vote

from the distinguished gentleman[87] who represents this Congressional

District, my own opinion of it would have entirely concurred with his,

and I should have voted in the same manner.

The meeting will indulge me with one further remark, before parting from

this subject. It is only the suggestion, that in the place I occupied I

was one of the representatives of the whole Commonwealth. I was not at

liberty to look exclusively to the interests of the district in which I

live, and which I have heretofore had the high honor of representing. I

was to extend my view from Barnstable to Berkshire; to comprehend in it

a proper regard for all interests, and a proper respect for all

opinions. Looking to the aggregate of all the interests of the

Commonwealth, and regarding the general current of opinion, so far as

that was properly to be respected, I saw, at least I thought I saw, my

duty to lie in the path which I pursued. The measure is adopted. Its

consequences, for good or evil, must be left to the results of

experience. In the mean time, I refer the propriety of the vote which I

gave, with entire submission, and with the utmost cheerfulness also, to

the judgment of the good people of the Commonwealth.

On some other subjects, Mr. President, I had the good fortune to act in

perfect unison with my colleague, and with every representative of the

State. On one, especially, the success of which, I am sure, must have

gratified every one who hears me. I could not, Sir, have met this

assembly, I could not have raised my voice in Faneuil Hall,--you would

have awed me down; if you had not, the portraits of patriots which adorn

these walls would have frowned me into silence,--if I had refused either

my vote or my voice to the cause of the officers and soldiers of the

Revolutionary army. That measure, mixed up of justice, and charity, and

mercy, is at last accomplished. The survivors of those who fought our

Revolutionary battles, under an engagement to see the contest through,

are at length provided for, not sumptuously, not extravagantly, but in a

manner to place them, in their old age, beyond the reach of absolute

want. Solace, also, has been administered to their feelings, as well as

to their necessities. They are not left to count their scars, or to

experience the pain of wounds, inflicted half a century ago, in their

country's service, without some token, that they are yet held in

grateful remembrance. A gratifying proof of respect for the services of

their youth and manhood quickens the pulsations of patriotism in veteran

bosoms; and as they may now live beyond the reach of absolute want, so

they will have the pleasure of closing life, when that time for closing

it shall come which must come to all, with the happy consciousness of

meritorious services, gratefully recompensed.

Another subject, now becoming exceedingly interesting, was, in various

forms, presented to Congress at the last session; and in regard to

which, I believe, there is, substantially, a general union of opinion

among the members from this Commonwealth; I mean what is commonly called

Internal Improvements. The great and growing importance of this subject

may, I hope, justify a few remarks relative to it on the present

occasion.

It was evident to all persons of much observation, at the close of the

late war, that the condition and prospects of the United States had

become essentially changed, in regard to sundry great interests of the

country. Almost from the formation of the government, till near the

commencement of that war, the United States had occupied a position of

singular and extraordinary advantage. They had been at peace, while the

powers of Europe had been at war. The harvest of neutrality had been to

them rich and ample; and they had reaped it with skill and diligence.

Their agriculture and commerce had both sensibly felt the benefit

arising from the existing state of the world. Bread was raised for those

whose hands were otherwise employed than in the cultivation of the

field, and the seas were navigated, for account of such as, being

belligerents, could not safely navigate them for themselves. These

opportunities for useful employment were all seized and enjoyed, by the

enterprise of the country; and a high degree of prosperity was the

natural result.

But with general peace a new state of things arose. The European states

at once turned their own attention to the pursuits proper for their new

situation, and sought to extend their own agricultural, manufacturing,

and commercial interests. It was evident, that thenceforward, instead of

our enjoying the advantages peculiar to neutrality in times of war, a

general competition would spring up, and nothing was to be expected

without a struggle. Other nations would now raise their own bread, and

as far as possible transport their own commodities; and the export trade

and the carrying trade of this country were, therefore, certain to

become the subjects of new and powerful competition, if not to receive

sudden and violent checks. It seemed reasonable, therefore, in this

state of things, to turn our thoughts inwards; to search out the

hitherto unexplored resources of our own country; to find, if we could,

new diversifications of industry and new subjects for the application of

labor at home. It was fit to consider how far home productions could

properly be made to furnish activity to home supply; and since the

country stretched over so many parallels of latitude and longitude,

abounding, of course, in the natural productions proper to each, it was

of the highest importance to inquire what means existed of establishing

free and cheap intercourse between those distant parts, thereby bringing

the raw material, abounding in one, under the action of the productive

labor which was found in another. Roads and canals, therefore, were seen

to be of the first consequence. And then the interesting question arose,

how far it was constitutionally lawful, and how far expedient, for the

general government to give aid and succor to the business of making

roads and canals, in conjunction with the enterprise of individuals or

of states. I am among those who have held the opinion, that, if any

object of that kind be of general and national importance, it is within

the scope of the powers of the government; though I admit it to be a

power which should be exercised with very great care and discretion.

Congress has power to _regulate_ commerce, both internal and external;

and whatever might have been thought to be the literal interpretation of

these terms, we know the construction to have been, from the very first

assembling of Congress, and by the very men who framed the Constitution,

that the regulation of commerce comprehended such measures as were

necessary for its support, its improvement, its advancement, and

justified the expenditure of money for such purposes as the construction

of piers, beacons, and light-houses, and the clearing out of harbors.

Instances of this sort, in the application of the general revenues, have

been frequent, from the commencement of the government. As the same

power, precisely, exists in relation to internal as to external trade,

it was not easy to see why like expenditures might not be justified,

when made on internal objects. The vast regions of the West are

penetrated by rivers, to which those of Europe are but as rills and

brooks. But the navigation of these noble streams, washing, as they do,

the margin of one third of the States of the Union, is obstructed by

obstacles, capable of being removed, and yet not likely to be removed,

but by the power of the general government. Was this a justifiable

object of expenditure from the national treasury? Without hesitation, I

have thought it was. A vast chain of lakes, if it be not more proper to

call them a succession of inland seas, stretches into the deep interior

of this northern part of the continent, as if kindly placed there by

Providence to break the continuity of the land, and afford the easier

and reader intercourse of water conveyance. But these vast lakes

required, also, harbors, and light-houses, and breakwaters. And were

these lawful objects of national legislation? To me, certainly, they

have appeared to be such, as clearly as if they were on the Atlantic

border.

In most of the new States of the West, the United States are yet

proprietors of vast bodies of land. Through some of these States, and

sometimes through these same public lands, the local authorities have

prepared to carry expensive canals, for the general benefit of the

country. Some of these undertakings have been attended with great

expense, and have subjected the States, whose enterprising spirit has

begun and carried them on, to large debts and heavy taxation. The lands

of the United States, being exempted from all taxation, of course bear

no part of this burden. Looking to the United States, therefore, as a

great landed proprietor, essentially benefited by these improvements, I

have felt no difficulty in voting for the appropriation of parts of

these lands, as a reasonable contribution by the United States to these

general objects.

Most of the subjects to which I have referred are much less local, in

their influence and importance, than they might seem. The breakwater in

the Delaware, useful to Philadelphia, is useful also to all the

ship-owners in the United States, and indeed to all interested in

commerce, especially that great branch, the coastwise commerce. If the

mouths of the Southern rivers be deepened and improved, the neighboring

cities are benefited, but so also are the ships which visit them; and if

the Mississippi and Ohio be rendered more safe for navigation, the great

markets of consumption along their shores are the more readily and

cheaply approached by the products of the factories and fisheries of New

England.

It is my opinion, Mr. President, that the present government of the

United States cannot be maintained but by administering it on principles

as wide and broad as the country over which it extends. I mean, of

course, no extension of the powers which it confers; but I speak of the

spirit with which those powers should be exercised. If there be any

doubts, whether so many republics, covering so vast a territory, can be

long held together under this Constitution, there is no doubt in my

judgment of the impossibility of so holding them together by any narrow,

local, or selfish system of legislation. To render the Constitution

perpetual (which God grant it may be), it is necessary that its benefits

should be practically felt by all parts of the country, and all

interests in the country. The East and the West, the North and the

South, must all see their own welfare protected and advanced by it.

While the eastern frontier is defended by fortifications, its harbors

improved, and commerce protected by a naval force, it is right and just

that the region beyond the Alleghanies should receive fair consideration

and equal attention, in any object of public improvement, interesting to

itself, and within the proper power of the government. These, Sir, are

in brief the general views by which I have been governed on questions of

this kind; and I trust they are such as this meeting does not

disapprove.

I would not trespass further upon your attention, if I did not feel it

my duty to say a few words on the condition of public affairs under

another aspect. We are on the eve of a new election of President; and

the manner in which the existing administration is attacked might lead a

stranger to suppose that the chief magistrate had committed some

flagrant offence against the country, had threatened to overturn its

liberties, or establish a military usurpation. On a former occasion I

have in this place expressed my opinion of the principle upon which the

opposition to the administration is founded, without any reference

whatever to the person who stands as its apparent head, and who is

intended by it to be placed in the chief executive chair. I think that

principle exceedingly dangerous and alarming, inasmuch as it does not

profess to found opposition to the government on the measures of

government, but to rest it on other causes, and those mostly personal.

There is a combination or association of persons holding the most

opposite opinions, both on the constitutional powers of the government

and on the leading measures of public concern, and uniting in little, or

in nothing, except the will to dislodge power from the hands in which

the country has placed it. There has been no leading measure of the

government, with perhaps a single exception, which has not been

strenuously maintained by many, or by some, of those who all cooeperate,

nevertheless, in pursuit of the object which I have mentioned. This is

but one of many proofs that the opposition does not rest on the

principle of disapprobation of the measures of government. Many other

evidences of the same truth might be adduced easily. A remarkable one

is, that, while one ground of objection to the administration is urged

in one place, its precise opposite is pressed in another. Pennsylvania

and South Carolina, for example, are not treated with the same reasons

for a change of administration; but with flatly contradictory reasons.

In one, the administration is represented as bent on a particular system

oppressive to that State, and which must ultimately ruin it; and for

that reason there ought to be a change. In the other, that system,

instead of being ruinous, is represented as salutary, as necessary, as

indispensable. But the administration is declared to be but half in

earnest in supporting it, and for that reason there ought to be a

change.

Reflecting men have always supposed, that, if there were a weak point in

the Federal Constitution, it was in the provision for the exercise of

the executive power. And this, perhaps, may be considered as rendered

more delicate and difficult, by the great augmentation of the number of

the States. We must expect that there will often be, as there was on the

last election, several candidates for the Presidency. All but one, of

course, must be disappointed; and if the friends of all such, however

otherwise divided, are immediately to unite, and to make common cause

against him who is elected, little is ever to be expected but

embarrassment and confusion. The love of office will ere long triumph

over the love of country, and party and faction usurp the place of

wisdom and patriotism. If the contest for the executive power is thus to

be renewed every four years; if it is to be conducted as the present has

been conducted; and if every election is to be immediately followed, as

the last was followed, by a prompt union of all whose friends are not

chosen against him who is, there is, in my judgment, danger, much

danger, that this great experiment of confederated government may fail,

and that even those of us who are not among the youngest may behold its

catastrophe.

It cannot have escaped the notice of any gentleman present, that, in the

course of the controversy, pains have been taken to affect the character

and the success of the present chief magistrate, by exciting odium

towards that part of the country in which he was born and to which he

belongs. Sneers, contumely, reproach, every thing that gentlemen could

say, and many things which gentlemen could not say, have been uttered

against New England. I am sure, Sir, every true son of New England must

receive such things, when they come from sources which ought to be

considered respectable, with a feeling of just indignation; and when

proceeding from elsewhere, with contempt. If there be one among

ourselves who can be induced, by any motives, to join in this cry

against New England, he disgraces the New England mother who bore him,

the New England father who bred and nurtured him, and the New England

atmosphere which first supplied respiration to those lungs, now so

unworthily employed in uttering calumnies against his country. Persons

not known till yesterday, and having little chance of being remembered

beyond to-morrow, have affected to draw a distinction between the

patriot States and the States of New England; assigning the last to the

present President, and the rest to his rival. I do not wonder, Sir, at

the indignation and scorn which I perceive the recital of this injustice

produces here. Nothing else was to be expected. Faneuil Hall is not a

place where one is expected to hear with indifference that New England

is not to be counted among the patriot States. The patriot States! What

State was it, Sir, that was patriotic when patriotism cost something?

Where but in New England did the great drama of the Revolution open?

Where, but on the soil of Massachusetts, was the first blood poured out

in the cause of liberty and independence? Where, sooner than here, where

earlier than within the walls which now surround us, was patriotism

found, when to be patriotic was to endanger houses and homes, and wives

and children, and to be ready also to pay for the reputation of

patriotism by the sacrifice of blood and of life?

Not farther to refer to her Revolutionary merits, it may be truly said

that New England did her part, and more than her part, in the

establishment of the present government, and in giving effect to the

measures and the policy of the first President. Where, Sir, did the

measures of Washington find the most active friends and the firmest

support? Where are the general principles of his policy most widely

spread, and most deeply seated? If, in subsequent periods, different

opinions have been held by different portions of her people, New England

has, nevertheless, been always obedient to the laws, even when she most

severely felt their pressure, and most conscientiously doubted or

disbelieved their propriety. Every great and permanent institution of

the country, intended for defence or for improvement, has met her

support. And if we look to recent measures, on subjects highly

interesting to the community, and especially some portions of it, we see

proofs of the same steady and liberal policy. It may be said with entire

truth, and it ought to be said, and ought to be known, that no one

measure for internal improvement has been carried through Congress, or

could have been carried, but by the aid of New England votes. It is for

those most deeply interested in subjects of that sort to consider in

season, how far the continuance of the same aid is necessary for the

further prosecution of the same objects. From the interference of the

general government in making roads and canals, New England has as little

to hope or expect as any part of the country. She has hitherto supported

them upon principle, and from a sincere disposition to extend the

blessings and the beneficence of the government. And, Sir, I confidently

believe that those most concerned in the success of these measures feel

towards her respect and friendship. They feel that she has acted fairly

and liberally, wholly uninfluenced by selfish or sinister motives.

Those, therefore, who have seen, or thought they saw, an object to be

attained by exciting dislike and odium towards New England, are not

likely to find quite so favorable an audience as they have expected. It

will not go for quite so much as wished, to the disadvantage of the

President, that he is a native of Massachusetts. Nothing is wanting but

that we ourselves should entertain a proper feeling on this subject,

and act with a just regard to our own rights and our own duties. If I

could collect around me the whole population of New England, or if I

could cause my voice to be heard over all her green hills, or along

every one of her pleasant streams, in the exercise of true filial

affection, I would say to her, in the language of the great master of

the maxims of life and conduct,

"This above all,--to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man."

Mr. President,--I have delayed you too long. I beg to repeat my

thanks for the kindness which has been manifested towards me by my

fellow-citizens, and to conclude by reciprocating their good wishes:--

The City of Boston. Prosperity to all her interests, and happiness to

all her citizens.

FOOTNOTES

[85] The subject referred to is the tariff law of 1828. For a fuller

statement of the considerations which influenced the vote of Mr.

Webster on that subject, see his speech, in a subsequent volume

of this collection, delivered in the Senate of the United States

on the 9th of May, 1828.

[86] Hon. Nathaniel Silsbee.

[87] Hon. Benjamin Gorham.

THE BOSTON MECHANICS' INSTITUTION.[88]

I appear before you, Gentlemen, for the performance of a duty which

is in so great a degree foreign from my habitual studies and

pursuits, that it may be presumptuous in me to hope for a creditable

execution of the task. But I have not allowed considerations of this

kind to weigh against a strong and ardent desire to signify my

approbation of the objects, and my conviction of the utility, of

this institution; and to manifest my prompt attention to whatever

others may suppose to be in my power to promote its respectability

and to further its designs.

The constitution of the association declares its precise object to be,

"Mutual Instruction in the Sciences, as connected with the Mechanic

Arts."

The distinct purpose is to connect science more and more with art; to

teach the established, and invent new, modes of combining skill with

strength; to bring the power of the human understanding in aid of the

physical powers of the human frame; to facilitate the cooeperation of the

mind with the hand; to promote convenience, lighten labor, and mitigate

toil, by stretching the dominion of mind farther and farther over the

elements of nature, and by making those elements themselves submit to

human rule, follow human bidding, and work together for human

happiness.

The visible and tangible creation into which we are introduced at our

birth, is not, in all its parts, fixed and stationary. Motion or change

of place, regular or occasional, belongs to all or most of the things

which are around us. Animal life everywhere moves; the earth itself has

its motion, and its complexities of motion; the ocean heaves and

subsides; rivers run, lingering or rushing, to the sea; and the air

which we breathe moves and acts with mighty power. Motion, thus

pertaining to the physical objects which surround us, is the exhaustless

fountain whence philosophy draws the means by which, in various degrees

and endless forms, natural agencies and the tendencies of inert matter

are brought to the succor and assistance of human strength. It is the

object of mechanical contrivance to modify motion, to produce it in new

forms, to direct it to new purposes, to multiply its uses, by its means

to do better that which human strength could do without its aid, and to

perform that, also, which such strength, unassisted by art, could not

perform.

Motion itself is but the result of force; or, in other words, force is

defined to be whatever tends to produce motion. The operation of forces,

therefore, on bodies, is the broad field which is open for that

philosophical examination, the results of which it is the business of

mechanical contrivance to apply. The leading forces or sources of motion

are, as is well known, the power of animals, gravity, heat, the winds,

and water. There are various others of less power, or of more difficult

application. Mechanical philosophy, therefore, may be said to be that

science which instructs us in the knowledge of natural moving powers,

animate or inanimate; in the manner of modifying those powers, and of

increasing the intensity of some of them by artificial means, such as

heat and electricity; and in applying the varieties of force and motion,

thus derived from natural agencies, to the arts of life. This is the

object of mechanical philosophy. None can doubt, certainly, the high

importance of this sort of knowledge, or fail to see how suitable it is

to the elevated rank and the dignity of reasoning beings. Man's grand

distinction is his intellect, his mental capacity. It is this which

renders him highly and peculiarly responsible to his Creator. It is on

account of this, that the rule over other animals is established in his

hands; and it is this, mainly, which enables him to exercise dominion

over the powers of nature, and to subdue them to himself.

But it is true, also, that his own animal organization gives him

superiority, and is among the most wonderful of the works of God on

earth. It contributes to cause, as well as prove, his elevated rank in

creation. His port is erect, his face toward heaven, and he is

furnished with limbs which are not absolutely necessary to his support

or locomotion, and which are at once powerful, flexible, capable of

innumerable modes and varieties of action, and terminated by an

instrument of wonderful, heavenly workmanship,--the human hand. This

marvellous physical conformation gives man the power of acting with

great effect upon external objects, in pursuance of the suggestions

of his understanding, and of applying the results of his reasoning power

to his own purposes. Without this particular formation, he would not

be man, with whatever sagacity he might have been endowed. No

bounteous grant of intellect, were it the pleasure of Heaven to make

such grant, could raise any of the brute creation to an equality with

the human race. Were it bestowed on the leviathan, he must remain,

nevertheless, in the element where alone he could maintain his

physical existence. He would still be but the inelegant, misshapen

inhabitant of the ocean, "wallowing unwieldy, enormous in his gait."

Were the elephant made to possess it, it would but teach him the

deformity of his own structure, the unsightliness of his frame,

though "the hugest of things," his disability to act on external

matter, and the degrading nature of his own physical wants, which

lead him to the deserts, and give him for his favorite home the torrid

plains of the tropics. It was placing the king of Babylon sufficiently

out of the rank of human beings, though he carried all his reasoning

faculties with him, when he was sent away to eat grass like an ox. And

this may properly suggest to our consideration, what is undeniably

true, that there is hardly a greater blessing conferred on man than his

natural wants. If he had wanted no more than the beasts, who can say

how much more than they he would have attained? Does he associate,

does he cultivate, does he build, does he navigate? The original impulse

to all these lies in his wants. It proceeds from the necessities of

his condition, and from the efforts of unsatisfied desire. Every want,

not of a low kind, physical as well as moral, which the human breast

feels, and which brutes do not feel and cannot feel, raises man by so

much in the scale of existence, and is a clear proof and a direct

instance of the favor of God towards his so much favored human

offspring. If man had been so made as to desire nothing, he would

have wanted almost every thing worth possessing.

But doubtless the reasoning faculty, the mind, is the leading and

characteristic attribute of the human race. By the exercise of this,

man arrives at the knowledge of the properties of natural bodies. This

is science, properly and emphatically so called. It is the science

of pure mathematics; and in the high branches of this science lies the

true sublime of human acquisition. If any attainment deserve that

epithet, it is the knowledge, which, from the mensuration of the

minutest dust of the balance, proceeds on the rising scale of

material bodies, everywhere weighing, everywhere measuring, everywhere

detecting and explaining the laws of force and motion, penetrating

into the secret principles which hold the universe of God together,

and balancing world against world, and system against system. When we

seek to accompany those who pursue studies at once so high, so vast,

and so exact; when we arrive at the discoveries of Newton, which pour

in day on the works of God, as if a second _fiat_ for light had gone

forth from his own mouth; when, further, we attempt to follow those

who set out where Newton paused, making his goal their starting-place,

and, proceeding with demonstration upon demonstration, and discovery

upon discovery, bring new worlds and new systems of worlds within the

limits of the known universe, failing to learn all only because all is

infinite; however we say of man, in admiration of his physical

structure, that "in form and moving he is express and admirable," it

is here, and here without irreverence, we may exclaim, "In apprehension

how like a god!" The study of the pure mathematics will of course

not be extensively pursued in an institution, which, like this, has a

direct practical tendency and aim. But it is still to be remembered,

that pure mathematics lie at the foundation of mechanical philosophy,

and that it is ignorance only which can speak or think of that sublime

science as useless research or barren speculation.

It has already been said, that the general and well-known agents usually

regarded as the principal sources of mechanical powers are gravity,

acting on solid bodies, the fall of water, which is but gravity acting

on fluids, air, heat, and animal strength. For the useful direction and

application of the first four of these, that is, of all of them which

belong to inanimate nature, some intermediate apparatus or contrivance

becomes necessary; and this apparatus, whatever its form, is a machine.

A machine is an invention for the application of motion, either by

changing the direction of the moving power, or by rendering a body in

motion capable of communicating a motion greater or less than its own to

other bodies, or by enabling it to overcome a power of greater intensity

or force than its own. And it is usually said that every machine,

however apparently complex, is capable of being resolved into some one

or more of those single machines, of which, according to one mode of

description, there are six, and according to another, three, called the

mechanical powers. But because machinery, or all mechanical contrivance,

is thus capable of resolution into a few elementary forms, it is not to

be inferred that science, or art, or both together, though pressed with

the utmost force of human genius, and cultivated by the last degree of

human assiduity, will ever exhaust the combinations into which these

elementary forms may be thrown. An indefinite, though not an infinite,

reach of invention may be expected; but indefinite, also, if not

infinite, are the possible combinations of elementary principles. The

field, then, is vast and unbounded. We know not to what yet unthought of

heights the power of man over the agencies of nature may be carried. We

only know that the last half-century has witnessed an amazingly

accelerated progress in useful discoveries, and that, at the present

moment, science and art are acting together with a new companionship,

and with the most happy and striking results. The history of mechanical

philosophy is, of itself, a very interesting subject, and will doubtless

be treated in this place fully and methodically, by stated lecturers.

It is a part of the history of man, which, like that of his domestic

habits and daily occupations, has been too seldom the subject of

research; having been thrust aside by the more dazzling topics of war

and political revolutions. We are not often conducted by historians

within the houses or huts of our ancestors, as they were centuries ago,

and made acquainted with their domestic utensils and domestic

arrangements. We see too little both of the conveniences and

inconveniences of their daily and ordinary life. There are, indeed, rich

materials for interesting details on these particulars to be collected

from the labors of Goguet and Beckmann, Henry and Turner; but still, a

thorough and well-written history of those inventions in the mechanic

arts which are now commonly known is a _desideratum_ in literature.

Human sagacity, stimulated by human wants, seizes first on the nearest

natural assistant. The power of his own arm is an early lesson among the

studies of primitive man. This is animal strength; and from this he

rises to the conception of employing, for his own use, the strength of

other animals. A stone, impelled by the power of his arm, he finds will

produce a greater effect than the arm itself; this is a species of

mechanical power. The effect results from a combination of the moving

force with the gravity of a heavy body. The limb of a tree is a rude,

but powerful instrument; it is a lever. And the mechanical powers being

all discovered, like other natural qualities, by induction (I use the

word as Bacon used it) or experience, and not by any reasoning _a

priori_, their progress has kept pace with the general civilization and

education of nations. The history of mechanical philosophy, while it

strongly illustrates in its general results the force of the human mind,

exhibits in its details most interesting pictures of ingenuity

struggling with the conception of new combinations, and of deep,

intense, and powerful thought, stretched to its utmost to find out or

deduce the general principle from the indications of particular facts.

We are now so far advanced beyond the age when the principal leading,

important mathematical discoveries were made, and they have become so

much matter of common knowledge, that it is not easy to feel their

importance, or be justly sensible what an epoch in the history of

science each constituted. The half-frantic exultation of Archimedes,

when he had solved the problem respecting the crown of Hiero, was on an

occasion and for a cause certainly well allowing very high joy. And so

also was the duplication of the cube.

The altar of Apollo, at Athens, was a square block, or cube, and to

double it, required the duplication of the cube. This was a process

involving an unascertained mathematical principle. It was quite natural,

therefore, that it should be a traditional story, that, by way of

atoning for some affront to that god, the oracle commanded the Athenians

to _double his altar_; an injunction, we know, which occupied the keen

sagacity of the Greek geometricians for more than half a century, before

they were able to obey it. It is to the great honor, however, of this

inimitable people, the Greeks, a people whose genius seems to have been

equally fitted for the investigations of science and the works of

imagination, that the immortal Euclid, centuries before our era,

composed his Elements of Geometry; a work which, for two thousand years,

has been, and still continues to be, a text-book for instruction in that

science.

A history of mechanical philosophy, however, would not begin with

Greece. There is a wonder beyond Greece. Higher up in the annals of

mankind, nearer, far nearer, to the origin of our race, out of all reach

of letters, beyond the sources of tradition, beyond all history, except

what remains in the monuments of her own art, stands Egypt, the mother

of nations! Egypt! Thebes! the Labyrinth! the Pyramids! Who shall

explain the mysteries which these names suggest? The Pyramids! Who can

inform us whether it was by mere numbers, and patience, and labor, aided

perhaps by the simple lever, or if not, by what forgotten combination of

powers, by what now unknown machines, mass was thus aggregated to mass,

and quarry piled on quarry, till solid granite seemed to cover the earth

and reach the skies?

The ancients discovered many things, but they left many things also to

be discovered; and this, as a general truth, is what our posterity a

thousand years hence will be able to say, doubtless, when we and our

generation shall be recorded also among the ancients. For, indeed, God

seems to have proposed his material universe as a standing, perpetual

study to his intelligent creatures; where, ever learning, they can yet

never learn all; and if that material universe shall last till man shall

have discovered all that is now unknown, but which by the progressive

improvement of his faculties he is capable of knowing, it will remain

through a duration beyond human measurement, and beyond human

comprehension.

The ancients knew nothing of our present system of arithmetical

notation; nothing of algebra, and, of course, nothing of the important

application of algebra to geometry. They had not learned the use of

logarithms, and were ignorant of fluxions. They had not attained to any

just mode for the mensuration of the earth; a matter of great moment to

astronomy, navigation, and other branches of useful knowledge. It is

scarcely necessary to add, that they were ignorant of the great results

which have followed the development of the principle of gravitation.

In the useful and practical arts, many inventions and contrivances, to

the production of which the degree of knowledge possessed by the

ancients would appear to us to have been adequate, and which seem quite

obvious, are yet of late origin. The application of water, for example,

to turn a mill, is a thing not known to have been accomplished at all in

Greece, and is not supposed to have been attempted at Rome till in or

near the age of Augustus. The production of the same effect by wind is a

still later invention. It dates only in the seventh century of our era.

The propulsion of the saw by any other power than that of the arm is

treated as a novelty in England, so late as in the middle of the

sixteenth century. The Bishop of Ely, at that time ambassador from the

queen of England to the Pope, says, "he saw, at Lyons, a sawmill driven

with an upright wheel, and the water that maketh it go is gathered whole

into a narrow trough, which delivereth the same water to the wheels.

This wheel hath a piece of timber put to the axletree end, like the

handle of a _broch_ (a hand-organ), and fastened to the end of the saw,

which being turned with the force of water, hoisteth up and down the

saw, that it continually eateth in, and the handle of the same is kept

in a rigall of wood, from swerving. Also the timber lieth, as it were,

upon a ladder, which is brought by little and little to the saw with

another vice."[89] From this description of the primitive power-saw, it

would seem that it was probably fast only at one end, and that the broch

and rigall performed the part of the arm in the common use of the

handsaw.

It must always have been a very considerable object for men to possess

or obtain the power of raising water otherwise than by mere manual

labor. Yet nothing like the common suction-pump has been found among

rude nations. It has arrived at its present state only by slow and

cautious steps of improvement; and, indeed, in that present state,

however obvious and unattractive, it is something of an abstruse and

refined invention. It was unknown in China, until Europeans visited the

"Celestial Empire"; and is still unknown in other parts of Asia, beyond

the pale of European settlements or the reach of European communication.

The Greeks and Romans are supposed to have been ignorant of it, in the

early times of their history; and it is usually said to have come from

Alexandria, where physical science was much cultivated by the Greek

philosophers, under the patronage of the Ptolemies.

These few and scattered historical notices, Gentlemen, of important

inventions, have been introduced only for the purpose of suggesting that

there is much which is both curious and instructive in the history of

mechanics; and that many things which to us, in our state of knowledge,

seem so obvious as that we should think they would at once force

themselves on men's adoption, have, nevertheless, been accomplished

slowly and by painful efforts.

But if the history of the progress of the mechanical arts be

interesting, still more so, doubtless, would be the exhibition of their

present state, and a full display of the extent to which they are now

carried. This field is much too wide to be entered on this occasion. The

briefest outline even would exceed its limits; and the whole subject

will regularly fall to hands much more able to sustain it. The slightest

glance, however, must convince us that mechanical power and mechanical

skill, as they are now exhibited in Europe and America, mark an epoch in

human history worthy of all admiration. Machinery is made to perform

what has formerly been the toil of human hands, to an extent that

astonishes the most sanguine, with a degree of power to which no number

of human arms is equal, and with such precision and exactness as almost

to suggest the notion of reason and intelligence in the machines

themselves. Every natural agent is put unrelentingly to the task. The

winds work, the waters work, the elasticity of metals works; gravity is

solicited into a thousand new forms of action; levers are multiplied

upon levers; wheels revolve on the peripheries of other wheels; the saw

and the plane are tortured into an accommodation to new uses, and, last

of all, with inimitable power, and "with whirlwind sound," comes the

potent agency of steam. In comparison with the past, what centuries of

improvement has this single agent comprised, in the short compass of

fifty years! Everywhere practicable, everywhere efficient, it has an arm

a thousand times stronger than that of Hercules, and to which human

ingenuity is capable of fitting a thousand times as many hands as

belonged to Briareus. Steam is found in triumphant operation on the

seas; and under the influence of its strong propulsion, the gallant

ship,

"Against the wind, against the tide,

Still _steadies_, with an upright keel."

It is on the rivers, and the boatman may repose on his oars; it is on

highways, and begins to exert itself along the courses of land

conveyance; it is at the bottom of mines, a thousand feet below the

earth's surface; it is in the mill, and in the workshops of the trades.

It rows, it pumps, it excavates, it carries, it draws, it lifts, it

hammers, it spins, it weaves, it prints. It seems to say to men, at

least to the class of artisans, "Leave off your manual labor, give over

your bodily toil; bestow but your skill and reason to the directing of

my power, and I will bear the toil,--with no muscle to grow weary, no

nerve to relax, no breast to feel faintness." What further improvements

may still be made in the use of this astonishing power, it is impossible

to know, and it were vain to conjecture. What we do know is, that it has

most essentially altered the face of affairs, and that no visible limit

yet appears, beyond which its progress is seen to be impossible. If its

power were now to be annihilated, if we were to miss it on the water and

in the mills, it would seem as if we were going back to rude ages.

This society, then, Gentlemen, is instituted for the purpose of further

and further applying science to the arts, at a time when there is much

of science to be applied. Philosophy and the mathematics have attained

to high degrees, and still stretch their wings like the eagle.

Chemistry, at the same time, acting in another direction, has made

equally important discoveries, capable of a direct application to the

purposes of life. Here, again, within so short a period as the lives of

some of us, almost all that is known has been learned. And while there

is this aggregate of science, already vast, but still rapidly

increasing, offering itself to the ingenuity of mechanical contrivance,

there is a corresponding demand for every work and invention of art,

produced by the wants of a rich, an enterprising, and an elegant age.

Associations like this, therefore, have materials to work upon, ends to

work for, and encouragement to work.

It may not be improper to suggest, that not only are the general

circumstances of the age favorable to such institutions as this, but

that there seems a high degree of propriety that one or more should be

established here, in the metropolis of New England. In no other part of

the country is there so great a concentration of mechanical operations.

Events have given to New England the lead in the great business of

domestic manufactures. Her thickened population, her energetic free

labor, her abundant falls of water, and various other causes, have led

her citizens to engage, with great boldness, in extensive manufactures.

The success of their establishments depends, of course, in no small

degree, upon the perfection to which machinery may be carried.

Improvement in this, therefore, instead of being left to chance or

accident, is justly regarded as a fit subject of assiduous study. The

attention of our community is also, at the present moment, strongly

attracted towards the construction of canals, railways, dry docks, and

other important public works. Civil engineering is becoming a

profession, offering honorable support and creditable distinction to

such as may qualify themselves to discharge its duties. Another

interesting fact is before us. New taste and a new excitement are

evidently springing up in our vicinity in regard to an art, which, as it

unites in a singular degree utility and beauty, affords inviting

encouragements to genius and skill. I mean Architecture. Architecture is

military, naval, sacred, civil, or domestic. Naval architecture,

certainly, is of the highest importance to a commercial and navigating

people to say nothing of its intimate and essential connection with the

means of national defence. This science should not be regarded as having

already reached its utmost perfection. It seems to have been for some

time in a course of rapid advancement. The building, the rigging, the

navigating of ships, have, within the knowledge of every one, been

subjects of great improvement within the last fifteen years. And where,

rather than in New England, may still further improvements be looked

for? Where is ship-building either a greater business, or pursued with

more skill and eagerness?

In civil, sacred, and domestic architecture, present appearances

authorize the strongest hopes of improvement. These hopes rest, among

other things, on unambiguous indications of the growing prevalence of a

just taste. The principles of architecture are founded in nature, or

good sense, as much as the principles of epic poetry. This art

constitutes a beautiful medium between what belongs to mere fancy and

what belongs entirely to the exact sciences. In its forms and

modifications it admits of infinite variation, giving broad room for

invention and genius; while, in its general principles, it is founded

on that which long experience and the concurrent judgment of ages have

ascertained to be generally pleasing. Certain relations of parts to

parts have been satisfactory to all the cultivated generations of men.

These relations constitute what is called _proportion_, and this is the

great basis of architectural art. This established proportion is not to

be _followed_ merely because it is ancient, but because its use, and the

pleasure which it has been found capable of giving to the mind, through

the eye, in ancient times, and modern times, and all civilized times,

prove that its principles are well founded and just; in the same manner

that the Iliad is proved, by the consent of all ages, to be a good

poem.

Architecture, I have said, is an art that unites in a singular manner

the useful and the beautiful. It is not to be inferred from this that

every thing in architecture is beautiful, or is to be so esteemed, in

exact proportion to its apparent utility. No more is meant, than that

nothing which evidently thwarts utility can or ought to be accounted

beautiful; because, in every work of art, the design is to be regarded,

and what defeats that design cannot be considered as well done. The

French rhetoricians have a maxim, that, in literary composition,

"nothing is beautiful which is not true." They do not intend to say,

that strict and literal truth is alone beautiful in poetry or oratory;

but they mean, that that which grossly offends against probability is

not in good taste in either. The same relation subsists between beauty

and utility in architecture as between truth and imagination in poetry.

Utility is not to be obviously sacrificed to beauty, in the one case;

truth and probability are not to be outraged for the cause of fiction

and fancy, in the other. In the severer styles of architecture, beauty

and utility approach so as to be almost identical. Where utility is more

especially the main design, the proportions which produce it raise the

sense or feeling of beauty, by a sort of reflection or deduction of the

mind. It is said that ancient Rome had perhaps no finer specimens of the

classic Doric than the sewers which ran under her streets, and which

were of course always to be covered from human observation: so true is

it, that cultivated taste is always pleased with justness of proportion;

and that design, seen to be accomplished, gives pleasure. The discovery

and fast-increasing use of a noble material, found in vast abundance

nearer to our city than the Pentelican quarries to Athens, may well

awaken, as they do, new attention to architectural improvement. If this

material be not entirely well suited to the elegant Ionic or the rich

Corinthian, it is yet fitted, beyond marble, beyond perhaps almost any

other material, for the Doric, of which the appropriate character is

strength, and for the Gothic, of which the appropriate character is

grandeur.

It is not more than justice, perhaps, to our ancestors, to call the

Gothic the English classic architecture; for in England, probably, are

its most distinguished specimens. As its leading characteristic is

grandeur, its main use would seem to be sacred. It had its origin,

indeed, in ecclesiastical architecture. Its evident design was to

surpass the ancient orders by the size of the structure and its far

greater heights; to excite perceptions of beauty by the branching

traceries and the gorgeous tabernacles within; and to inspire religious

awe and reverence by the lofty pointed arches, the flying buttresses,

the spires, and the pinnacles, springing from beneath, and stretching

upwards towards the heavens with the prayers of the worshippers.

Architectural beauty having always a direct reference to utility,

edifices, whether civil or sacred, must of course undergo different

changes, in different places, on account of climate, and in different

ages, on account of the different states of other arts or different

notions of convenience. The hypethral temple, for example, or temple

without a roof, is not to be thought of in our latitude; and the use of

glass, a thing not now to be dispensed with, is also to be accommodated,

as well as it may be, to the architectural structure. These necessary

variations, and many more admissible ones, give room for improvements to

an indefinite extent, without departing from the principles of true

taste. May we not hope, then, to see our own city celebrated as the city

of architectural excellence? May we not hope to see our native granite

reposing in the ever-during strength of the Doric, or springing up in

the grand and lofty Gothic, in forms which beauty and utility, the eye

and the judgment, taste and devotion, shall unite to approve and to

admire? But while we regard sacred and civil architecture as highly

important, let us not forget that other branch, so essential to personal

comfort and happiness,--domestic architecture or common house-building.

In ancient times, in all governments, and under despotic governments in

all times, the convenience or gratification of the monarch, the

government, or the public has been allowed too often to put aside

considerations of personal and individual happiness. With us, different

ideas happily prevail. With us, it is not the public, or the government,

in its corporate character, that is the only object of regard. The

public happiness is to be the aggregate of the happiness of individuals.

Our system begins with the individual man. It begins with him when he

leaves the cradle; and it proposes to instruct him in knowledge and in

morals, to prepare him for his state of manhood; on his arrival at that

state, to invest him with political rights, to protect him in his

property and pursuits, and in his family and social connections; and

thus to enable him to enjoy, as an individual moral and rational being,

what belongs to a moral and rational being. For the same reason, the

arts are to be promoted for their general utility, as they affect the

personal happiness and well-being of the individuals who compose the

community. It would be adverse to the whole spirit of our system, that

we should have gorgeous and expensive public buildings, if individuals

were at the same time to live in houses of mud. Our public edifices are

to be reared by the surplus of wealth and the savings of labor, after

the necessities and comforts of individuals are provided for; and not,

like the Pyramids, by the unremitted toil of thousands of half-starved

slaves. Domestic architecture, therefore, as connected with individual

comfort and happiness, is to hold a first place in the esteem of our

artists. Let our citizens have houses cheap, but comfortable; not gaudy,

but in good taste; not judged by the portion of earth they cover, but by

their symmetry, their fitness for use, and their durability.