THE CULTIVATOR. 
sury, which are applied to the current expenses of the 
government. For this application there is no need. In 
truth, the country has received detriment from the ex¬ 
cess of its revenues. Now, I ask, why shall not the 
public lands be consecrated, (in whole or in part, as the 
case may require,) to the education of the people ? This 
measure would secure at once what the country most 
needs, that is, able, accomplished, quickening teachers 
of the whole rising generation, The present poor re¬ 
muneration of instructers is a dark omen, and the only 
real obstacle which the cause of education has to con¬ 
tend with. We need for our schools gifted men and 
women, worthy, by their intelligence and their moral 
power, to be entrusted with a nation’s youth; and to 
gain these we must pay them liberally, as well as afford 
other proofs of the consideration in which we hold 
them. In the present state of the country, when so 
many paths of wealth and promotion are opened, supe¬ 
rior men cannot be won to an office so responsible and 
laborious as that of teaching, without stronger induce¬ 
ments than are now offered, except in some of our large 
cities. The office of instructer ought to rank and be 
recompensed as one of the most honorable in society; 
and I see not how this is to be done, at least in our day, 
without appropriating to it the public domain. This is 
the people’s property, and the only part of their property 
which is likely to be soon devoted to the support of a 
high order of institutions for public education. This 
object, interesting to all classes of society, has peculiar 
claims on those, whose means of improvement are re¬ 
stricted by narrow circumstances. The mass of the 
people should devote themselves to it as one man, 
should toil for it with one soul. Mechanics, Farmers, 
Laborers! Let the country echo with your united cry, 
“The Publie Lands for Education.” Send to the public 
councils men who will plead this cause with power. 
No party triumphs, no trades-unions, no associations, 
can so contribute to elevate you as the measure now 
proposed. Nothing but a higher education can raise 
you in influence and true dignity. The resources of the 
public domain, wisely applied for successive genera¬ 
tions to the culture of society and of the individual, 
would create a new people, would awaken through this 
community intellectual and moral energies, such as the 
records of no country display, and as would command 
the respect and emulation of the civil ized world. In this 
grand object, the working men of all parties, and in all 
divisions of the land, should join with an enthusiasm 
not to be withstood. They should separate it from all 
narrow and local strifes. They should not suffer it to 
be mixed up with the schemes of politicians. In it, 
they and their children have an*infinite stake. May 
they be true to themselves, to posterity, to their coun¬ 
try, to freedom, to the cause of mankind. 
III. I am aware that the whole doctrine of this dis¬ 
course will meet opposition. There are not a few who 
will say to me, “ What you tell us sounds well; but it 
is impracticable. Men, who dream in their closets, spin 
beautiful theories; but actual life scatters them, as the 
wind snaps the cobweb. You would have all men to 
be cultivated; but necessity wills that most men shall 
work; and which of the two is likely to prevail? A 
weak sentimentality may shrink from the truth; still 
it is true, that most men were made, not for self-culture, 
but for toil.” 
I have put the objection into strong language, that We 
may all look it fairly in the face. For one I deny its 
validity. Reason as well as sentiment rises up against 
it. The presumption is certainly very strong, that the 
All-wise Father, who has given to every human being, 
reason and conscience and affection, intended that these 
should be unfolded; and it is hard to believe, that He, 
who, by conferring this nature on all men, has made all 
his children, has destined the great majority to wear 
out a life of drudgery and unimproving toil, for the be¬ 
nefit of a few. God cannot have made spiritual beings 
to be dwarfed. In the body we see no organs created 
to shrivel by disuse; much less are the powers of the 
soul given to be locked up in perpetual lethargy. 
Perhaps it will be replied, that the purpose of the 
Creator is to be gathered, not from theory, but from 
facts; and that it is a plain fact, that the order and pros¬ 
perity of society, which God must be supposed to in¬ 
tend, require from the multitude the action of their hand 
and not the improvement of their minds. 1 reply, that 
a social order, demanding the sacrifice of the mind, is 
very suspicious, that it cannot indeed be sanctioned by 
the Creator. Were I, on visiting a strange country, to 
see the vast majority.of the people maimed, crippled, 
and bereft of sight, and were I told that social order re¬ 
quired this mutilation, I should say, Perish this order. 
Who would not think his understanding as well as best 
feelings insulted, by hearing this spoken of as the inten¬ 
tion of God. Nor ought we to look with less aversion 
on a social system, which can only be upheld by crip¬ 
pling and blinding the Minds of the people. 
But to come nearer to the point. Are labor and 
self-culture irreconcilable to each other? In the first 
place, we have seen that a man in the midst of la¬ 
bor, may and ought to give himself to the most impor¬ 
tant improvements, that he may cultivate his sense of 
justice, his benevolence, and the desire of perfection. 
Toil is the school for these high principles; and we have 
here a strong presumption, that, in other respects, it 
does not necessarily blight the soul. Next we have seen, 
that the most fruitful sources of truth and wisdom are 
not books,precious as they are, but experience and obser¬ 
vation ; and these belong to all conditions. It is another 
important consideration, that almost all labor demands 
intellectual activity, and is best carried on by those who 
invigorate their minds; so that the two interests, toil 
and self-culture, are friends to each other. It is Mind, 
after all, which does the work of the world, so that the 
more there is of mind, the more work will be accom¬ 
plished. A man, in proportion as he is intelligent, makes 
a given force accomplish a greater task, makes skill take 
the place of muscles, and with less labor, gives a better 
product. Make men intelligent and they become inven¬ 
tive. They find shorter processes. Their knowledge 
of nature helps them to turn its laws to account, to un¬ 
derstand the substances on which they work, and to seize 
on useful hints, which experience continually furnishes. 
It is among workmen, that some of the most useful ma¬ 
chines have been contrived. Spread education, and, as 
the history of this country shows, there will be no 
bounds to useful inventions. 
But it is said, that any considerable education lifts men 
above their work, makes them look with disgust on their 
trades as mean and low, makes drudgery intolerable. I 
reply that a man becomes interested in labor, just in pro¬ 
portion as the mind works with the hands. An enlight¬ 
ened farmer, who understands agricultural chemistry, 
the laws of vegetation, the structure of plants, the pro¬ 
perties of manures, the influences of climate, who looks 
intelligently on his work and brings his knowedge to 
bear on exigencies, is a much more cheerful as well as 
more dignified laborer, than the peasant, whose mind is 
akin to the clod on which he treads, and whose whole 
life is the same dull, unthinking, unimproving toil. But 
this is not all. Why is it, I ask, that we call manual 
labor low, that we associate with it the idea of meanness, 
and think that an intelligent people must scorn it? The 
great reason is, that, in most countries, so few intelligent 
people have been engaged in it. Once let cultivated 
men plough and dig and follow the commonest labors, 
and ploughing, digging and trades will cease to be mean. 
It is the man who determines the dignity of the occupa¬ 
tion, not the occupation which measures the dignity of 
the man. Physicians and surgeons perform operations 
less cleanly than fall to the lot of most mechanics. I 
have seen a distinguished chemist covered with dust like 
a laborer. Still these men were not degraded. Their 
intelligence gave dignity to their work, and so our labor¬ 
ers, once educated, will give dignity to their toils.—Let 
me add, that J see little difference in point of dignity, be¬ 
tween the various vocations of men. When I see a 
clerk, spending his days in adding figures, perhaps mere¬ 
ly copying, or a teller of a bank counting money, or a 
merchant selling shoes and hides, I cannot see in these 
occupations greater respectableness than in making lea¬ 
ther, shoes, or furniture. I do not see in them greater 
intellectual activity than in several trades. A man in 
the fields seems to have more chances of improvement 
in his work, than a man behind the counter, or a man 
driving the quill. It is the sign of a narrow mind, to 
imagine as many seem to do, that there is a repugnance 
between the plain, coarse exterior of a laborer and men¬ 
tal culture, especially the more refining culture. The 
laborer, under his dust and sweat, carries the grand ele- 
ments of humanity, and he may put forth its highest 
powers. I doubt not, there is as genuine enthusiam in 
the contemplation of nature and in the perusal of works 
of genius, under a homespun garb as under finery. We 
have heard of a distinguished author, who never wrote 
so well, as when he was full dressed for company. But 
profound thought and poetical inspiration have most 
generally visited men, when, from narrow cicumstances 
or negligent habits, the rent coat and shaggy face have 
made them quite unfit for polished saloons. A man may 
see truth, and may be thrilled with beauty, in one cos¬ 
tume or dwelling as well as another; and he should re¬ 
spect himself the more for the hardships, under which 
his intellectual force has been developed. 
But it will be asked, how can the laboring classes find 
time for seif-culture. I answer, as I have already inti¬ 
mated, that an earnest purpose finds time or makes time. 
It seizes on spare moments, and turns larger fragments 
of leisure to golden account. A man, who follows his 
calling with industry and spirit, and uses his earnings 
economically, will always have some portion of the day 
at command ; and it is' astonishing, how fruitful of im¬ 
provement a short season becomes, when eagerly seized 
and faithfully used. It has often been observed, that 
they, who have most time at their disposal, profit by it 
least. A single hour in the day, steadily given to the 
study of an interesting subject brings unexpected accu¬ 
mulations of knowledge. The improvements made by 
well disposed pupils, in many of our country schools, 
which are open but three months in the year, and in our 
Sunday schools, which are kept but one or two hours in 
the week, show what can be brought to pass by slender 
means. The affections, it is said sometimes crowd years 
into moments, and the intellect has something of the 
same power. Volumes have not only been read, but writ¬ 
ten. in flying journeys. I have known a man of vigor¬ 
ous intellect, who had enjoyed few advantages of early 
education, and whose mind was almost engrossed by the 
details of an extensive business, but who composed a 
book of much original thought, in steam-boats and on 
horseback, while visiting distant customers. The suc¬ 
cession of the seasons gives to many of the working class 
opportunities for intellectual improvement. The winter 
brings leisure to the husbandman, and winter evenings 
to many laborers in the city. Above all, in Christian 
countries, the seventh day is released from toil. The 
seventh part of the year, no small portion of existence, 
may be given by almost every one-to intellectual and 
moral culture. Why is it that Sunday is not made a 
more effectual means of improvement? Undoubtedly 
the seventh day is to have a religious character; but re¬ 
m 
ligion connects itself with all the great subjects of human 
thought, and leads to and aids the study oi all. God is 
in nature. God is in history. Instruction in the works 
of the Creator, so as to reveal his perfection in their 
harmony, beneficence and grandeur; instruction in the 
histories of the church and the world, so as 10 show in 
all events his moral government, and to bring out the 
great moral lessons in which human life abounds ; in¬ 
struction in the lives of philanthropists, of saints, of men 
eminent for piety and virtue; all these branches of teach¬ 
ing enter into religion, and are appropriate to Sunday ; 
and through these, a vast amount of knowledge may be 
given to the people. Sunday ought not to remain the 
dull and fruitless season, that it now is to multitudes. 
It may be clothed with a new interest and a new sancti¬ 
ty. It may give a new impulse to the nation’s soul.—I 
have thus shown, that time may be found for improve¬ 
ment; and the fact is, that among our most improved 
people, a considerable part consists of persons, who pass 
the greatest portion of every day at the desk, in the 
counting room, or in some other sphere, chained to tasks 
which have very little tendency to expand the mind. 
In the .progress of society with the increase of machine¬ 
ry, and with other aids which intelligence and philan¬ 
thropy will multiply, we may expect that more and more 
time will be redeemed from manual labor, for intellec¬ 
tual and social occupations. 
But some will say, “ Be it granted that the working 
classes may find some leisure ; should they not be allow¬ 
ed to spend it in relaxation? Is it not cruel, to summon 
them from toils of the hand to toils of the mind ? They 
have earned pleasure by the day’s toil and ought to par¬ 
take it.” Yes, let them have pleasure. Far be it from 
me to dry up the fountains, to blight the spots of ver¬ 
dure, where they refresh themselves after life’s labors. 
But I maintain, that self-culture multiplies and increas¬ 
es their pleasures, that it creates new capacities of en¬ 
joyment, that it saves their leisure from being, what it 
too often is, dull and wearisome, that it saves them from 
rushing for excitement to indulgencies destructive to 
body and soul. It is one of the great benefits of self- 
improvement, that it raises a people above the gratifica¬ 
tions of the brute, and gives them pleasures worthy of 
men. In consequence of the present intellectual culture 
of our country, imperfect as it is, avast amount of enjoy¬ 
ment is communicated to men, women and children, of 
all conditions, by books, an enjoyment unknown to ruder 
times. At this moment, a number of gifted writers are 
employed in multiplying entertaining works. Walter 
Scott, a name conspicuous among the brightest of his 
day, poured out his inexhaustible mind in fictions, at 
once so sportive and thrilling, that they have taken their 
place among the delights of all civilized nations. How 
many millions have been chained to his pages! How 
many melancholy spirits has he steeped in forgetfulness 
of their cares and sorrows ! What multitudes, wearied 
by their day’s work, have owed some bright evening 
hours and balmier sleep to his magical creations ! And 
not only do fictions give pleasure. In proportion as the 
mind is cultivated, it takes delight in history and biog¬ 
raphy, in descriptions of nature, in travels, in poetry, 
and even graver works. Is the laborer then defrauded 
of pleasure by improvement? There is another class 
of gratifications to which self-culture introduces the mass 
of the people. I refer to lectures, discussions, meetings 
of associations for benevolent and literary purposes, and 
to other like methods of passing the evening, which 
every year is multiplying among us. A popular address 
fronf an enlightened man, who has the tact to reach the 
minds of the people, is a high gratification, as well as a 
source of knowledge. The profound silence in our pub¬ 
lic halls, where these lectures are delivered to crowds, 
show that cultivation is no foe to enjoyment.—I have a 
strong hope, that by the progress of intelligence, taste, 
and morals among all portions of society, a class of pub¬ 
lic amusements will grow up among us, bearing some 
resemblance to the theatre, but purified from the gross 
evils which degrade our present stage, and which, I 
trust, will seal its ruin. Dramatic performances and re¬ 
citations are means of bringing the mass of the people 
into a quicker sympathy with a writer of genius, to a 
profounder comprehension of hisgrand, beautiful, touch¬ 
ing conceptions, than can be effected by the reading of 
the closet. No commentary throws such a light on a 
great poem or any impassioned work of literature, as 
the voice of a reader or speaker, who brings to the task 
a deep feeling of his author and rich and various pow¬ 
ers of expression. A crowd, electrified by a sublime 
thought, or softened into a humanizing sorrow, under 
such a voice, partake a pleasure at once exquisite and 
refined; and I cannot but believe, that this and other 
amusements, at which the delicacy of woman and the 
purity of the Christian can take no offence, are to grow 
up under a high social culture. Let me only add, that 
in proportion as culture spreads among a people, the 
cheapest and commonest of all pleasures, conversation, 
increases in delight. This, after all, is the great amuse¬ 
ment of life, cheering us round our hearths, often cheer¬ 
ing our work, stirring our hearts gently, acting on us like 
the balmy air or the bright light of heaven, so silently 
and continually, that we hardly think of its influence. 
This source of happiness is too often lost to men of all 
classes for want of knowledge, mental activity, and re¬ 
finement of feeling; and do we defraud the laborer of 
his pleasure, by recommending to him improvements 
which will place the daily, hourly, blessings of conver¬ 
sation within his reach. 
I have thus considered some of the common objections 
which start up when the culture of the mass of men is 
insisted on, as the great end of society. For myself, 
