THE UNION OF LABOUR AND INTELLEC

TUAL ATTAINMENTS.

ADDRESS OF THE LATE EARL OF CARLISLE, AT THE

SHEFFIELD ATHENÆUM, SEPTEMBER, 1847.

THOSE of you who have had the opportunity of consulting the old legends of classical mythology, are aware that among the fancied deities with which they peopled the world, there was one more especially regarded as the God of labour, and of handicraft, Vulcan by name, who was always represented as being employed in huge smithies and workshops, hammering at heavy anvils, and blowing vast bellows, heating vast furnaces, and begrimed with soot and dirt. Well, for this hardworking, and swarthy-looking divinity, they wished to pick out a wife. And they did not select for him a mere drab-not a person, taken herself from the scullery or kitchen-dresser; but they chose for him Venus, the Goddess of love and beauty. Now, ladies and gentlemen, pick out for me the moral of this tale, for I believe that nothing ever was invented,―certainly nothing by the polished and brilliant imagination of the Grecian intellect,-which has not its own meaning, and its moral.

But what is the special meaning of the marriage of Vulcan with Venus-of the hard-working artificer with the laughter-loving queen-of labour with beauty? What is it but this, that even in a busy hive of industry and toil like this, even here, upon a spot which is in many respects no inapt representative of the fabled workshop of Vulcan, even here, amid the clang of anvils, the noise of furnaces, and the sputtering of forges-even here, amid stunning sounds, and sooty blackness, the mind-the untrammelled mind--may go forth, may pierce the dim atmosphere which is poised all around us, may wing its way to the freer air and purer light which dwells beyond, and may ally itself with all that is most fair, genial, and lovely in creation.

So, gentlemen, I say your labour, your downright, hard, swarthy labour may make itself the companion, the helpmate, and the husband of beauty-of physical beauty, as I have reason to believe, from the inspection which I am able even now to command, and I have no doubt that a more intimate acquaintance with your wives, sisters, and daughters, would enable me to prove that I was not here wrong in my illustration,—but besides this beauty, I say, your labour may ally itself with intellectual beauty-the beauty which is connected with the play of fancy, with the achievements of art, and with the creations of genius; beauty, such as painting fixes upon the glowing canvas, such as the sculptor embodies in the breathing marble such as architecture developes in her stately and harmonious proportions, such as music dresses with the enchantment of sound. Now it is to the perception and cultivation of the beautiful in these departments that I look upon your Schools of Design, and your concerts, and many of the lectures which you hear from able and gifted men, as intended to be subservient; and I strongly advise the members of this Mechanics' Institution to shew a discriminating and generous support of these tasteful and humanizing pursuits. Above all, I advise you to cultivate a love of reading-that which makes you almost independent of other aids and appliances, and puts, with very moderate help, the whole domain of philosophy, history, and poetry, within your individual command.

Why, gentlemen, a man is almost above the world, who possesses two books. I do not mean to put the two books which I am about to mention upon the same level, far from it, nor am I wishing to intimate to you that two books are sufficient for your study and perusal. I am only mentioning them as representatives of what is most excellent, though different in degree. But I say that a man is almost above the world who possesses his Bible and his Shakespeare-his Shakespeare for his leisure-his Bible for all time. I said some time ago, that labour, even the labour of this

district, may unite itself with intellectual beauty. But there is a beauty of a still higher order with which I feel even more assured it is still more open to it to unite itself: I mean with moral beauty-the beauty connected with the affections, the conscience, the heart, and the life. It is indeed most true that in the very busiest and darkest of your workshops-in the most wearying and monotonous tasks of your daily drudgery, as also in the very humblest of your own homes-by the very smallest of your fireplaces—one and each of you, in the zealous and cheerful discharge of the daily duty-in respect for the just rights and in consideration for the feelings of others--in the spirit of meekness, and in the thousand charities and kindnesses of social and domestic intercourse, -one and each of you may attain to and exhibit that moral beauty of which I have spoken-that beauty which is beyond all others in degree, because, when it is attained to, it is the perfection of man's nature here below, and is the most faithful reflection of the will and image of his Creator. And thus, ladies' and gentlemen, I close my explanation of the marriage of Vulcan and Venus-of Labour with Beauty, and with it I close the remarks which I have risen to offer you this evening.

THE DOUGLAS.

THE castle gates were open flung,
The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung,
And echoed loud the flinty street
Beneath the coursers' clattering feet,
As slowly down the deep descent
Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,
While all along the crowded way
Was jubilee and loud huzza.
And ever James was bending low,
To his white jennet's saddle bow,

Doffing his cap to city dame,"

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain,

He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire, Commends each pageant's quaint attire, Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, And smiles and nods upon the crowd, Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, "Long live the Commons' King, King James!" Behind the King thronged peer and knight, And noble dame and damsel bright, Whose fiery steeds ill-brooked the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. -But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern; There nobles mourned their pride restrained, And the mean burghers' joy disdained; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, Were each from home a banished man, There thought upon their own gray tower, Their waving woods, their feudal power, And deemed themselves a shameful part Of pageant which they cursed in heart.

*

*

Now, clear the Ring! for, hand to hand,
The manly wrestlers take their stand.
Two o'er the rest superior rose,
And proud demanded mightier foes,
Nor called in vain; for Douglas caine..
-For life is Hugh of Larbert lame,
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare,

Whom senseless home his comrades bear.
Prize of the wrestling match, the King
To Douglas gave a golden ring,
While coldly glanced his eye of blue,
As frozen drop of wintry dew.
Douglas would speak, but in his breast
His struggling soul his words suppress'd:
Indignant then he turned him where

Their arm the brawny yeomen bare,
To hurl the massive bar in air.

When each his utmost strength had shewn,
The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone
From its deep bed, then heaved it high,
And sent the fragment through the sky,
A rood beyond the farthest mark;—
And still in Stirling's royal park,
The gray-haired sires, who know the past,
To strangers point the Douglas-cast,
And moralize on the decay

Of Scottish strength in modern day.

The vale with loud applauses rang,
The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang;
The King, with look unmoved, bestowed
A purse well filled with pieces broad.
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud,
And threw the gold among the crowd,
Who now, with anxious wonder scan,
And sharper glance, the dark gray man;
Till whispers rose among the throng,
That heart so free, and hand so strong,
Must to the Douglas blood belong :
The old men mark'd, and shook the head,
To see his hair with silver spread,
And winked aside, and told each son
Of feats upon the English done,
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand
Was exiled from his native land.
The women praised his stately form,
Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm;
The youth with awe and wonder saw
His strength surpassing nature's law.
Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd,
Till murmurs rose to clamours loud.
But not a glance from that proud ring
Of peers who circled round the King,
With Douglas held communion kind,
Or called the banished man te mind;