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MISCELLANEOUS
LECTURES and REYIEWS.
BY
RICHARD WHATELY, D.D.
ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.
LONDON: PARKER, SON, AND BOURN, WEST STRAND.
MDCCCLXI.
PRINTED BT GEORGE PHIPPS, 13 & 14, TOTHTLL 8TEEET, WESTMINSTER.
PREFACE.
npHE following Lectures have already appeared in print, separately, at various times. But it has been suggested to me, that although they do not form a series, nor are connected in point of subject matter, still it may be, to some persons, desirable to have them collected together into a volume.
They were delivered (some of them, more than once) at various times and places ; but having been always addressed to a more or less mixed audience, they are in a popular style, and do not enter into any abstruse scientific disquisitions.
Some Articles have been added, from the Quarterly Review, and from the London Review, a Periodical which was discontinued after two numbers. As these Articles were written a good many years ago, some of them contain allusions to a state of things different from what exists now. But it may be to some readers not uninteresting to trace the changes which have since taken place, and to observe how far subsequent occurrences have confirmed or refuted the opinions put forth several years before.
iV PREFACE.
The Review of Miss Austin's Works was pub- lished some time ago, through a mistake, in the collection of Sir Walter Scott's Remains. He had written, in an earlier number of the Quarterly -, an Article on some other Works of the same Author ; and it was thus that the mistake originated.
The Article on the Penal Colonies was afterwards republished in one of the two Letters addressed to the late Earl Grey, on the subject of Secondary Punish- ments.
CONTENTS.
LECTURES.
LECTUEE I.
PAGE
On the Intellectual and Moral Influences of the
Professions on the Character • . . 1
LECTUEE II.
On the Origin of Civilisation 26
Postscript 58
LECTUEE HI. On Instinct "60
LECTUEE IV.
Dr. Palet's Works 85
Note A 118
LECTUEE V.
Present State of Egypt 120
LECTUEE VI. Bacon's Essays 143
LECTUEE VII. The Jews 179
LECTUEE VIIL
On the supposed Dangers of a little Learning . . . 197
VI CONTENTS.
REVIEWS.
PAGE
Emigration to Canada 211
1. " Facts and Observations respecting Canada and the United
States of America," ifcc. By Charles F. Grece, Esq. 1819.
2. " The Emigrant's Guide to Upper Canada ; or Sketches of
the Present State of that Province," &c. By C. Stuart, Esq. 1820.
3. " A Visit to the Province of Upper Canada, in 1819." By
Jamas Strachan, Esq. 1820.
II.
Transportation 246
1. " Report from the Select Committee on Criminal Commit-
ments and Convictions. 1828."
2. " New South Wales. Return to an Address of the Honour-
able the House of Commons, dated 1st May, 1828, for a Copy of a Report by the late Major- General Macquarie, &c. ; and an Extract of a Letter from Major- General Macquarie to Earl Bathurst in October, 1823, etc."
3. " Two Years in New South Wales," &c. By P. Cunningham,
Surgeon, R.N. 1827.
III.
Modern Novels 282
" Northanger Abbey," and " Persuasion." By the Author of " Sense and Sensibility," &c.
CONTENTS. Vii
IV.
PAGE
The Juvenile Library 314
1. " Scenes of British Wealth, in Produce, Manufactures, and
Commerce," &c. By the Kev. I. Taylor. 1825.
2. " Grecian Stories." By Maria Hack. 1828.
3. " Familiar Illustrations of the Principal Evidences and
Design of Christianity." By Maria Hack. 1824.
4. " Conversations on the life of Jesus Christ ; for the Use of
Children." By a Mother. 1828.
LECTURE I.
ON THE INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL
INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS
ON THE CHARACTER.
So?te ancient writer relates of the celebrated Hannibal, that during his sta;y at some regal court, the evening entertain- ment on one occasion consisted of a discourse, (what we in these days should call a " lecture,") which an aged Greek Philo- sopher, named Phormio, if I remember rightly, had the honour of being permitted to deliver before the king and courtiers. It was on the qualifications and duties of a General. The various high endowments — the several branches of knowledge, and the multifarious cares and labours appertaining to an accomplished military leader, were set forth, as most of the hearers thought, with so much ability and elegance, that the discourse was received with general applause. But, as was natural, eager inquiries were made what was thought of it by so eminent a master in the art military, as Hannibal. On his opinion being asked, he replied with soldierlike bluntness, that he had often heard old men talk dotage, but that a greater dotard than Phormio he had never met with.
He would not however have been reckoned a dotard — at least he would not have deserved it, (as he did,) — if he had had the sense, instead of giving instructions in the military art to one who knew so much more of it than himself, to have addressed an audience of military men, not as soldiers, but as human beings ; and had set before them correctly and clearly, the effects, intellectual and moral, likely to be produced on them, as men, by the study and the exercise of their profession.
w. e. B
2 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
For, that is a point on which men of each profession respec- tively are so far from being necessarily the best judges, that, other things being equal, they are likely to be rather less com- petent judges than those in a different walk of life.
That each branch of study, and each kind of business, has a tendency to influence the character, and that any such tendency, if operating in excess, exclusively, and unmodified by other causes, is likely to produce a corresponding mental disease or defect, is what no one, I suppose, would deny. It would be reasonable as an antecedent conjecture ; and the con- firmation of it by experience is a matter of common remark. I have heard of a celebrated surgeon, whose attention had been chiefly directed to cases of deformity, who remarked that he scarcely ever met an artisan in the street but he was able to assure himself at the first glance what his trade was. He could perceive in persons not actually deformed, that particular gait or attitude — that particular kind of departure from exact symmetry of form — that disproportionate development and deficiency in certain muscles, which distinguished, to his ana- tomical eye, the porter, the smith, the horse-breaker, the stone- cutter, and other kinds of labourers, from each other. And he could see all this, through, and notwithstanding, all the indivi- dual differences of original structure, and of various accidental circumstances.
Bodily peculiarities of this class may be, according to tho degree to which they exist, either mere in elegancies hardly worth noticing, or slight inconveniences, or serious deformities, or grievous diseases. The same may be said of those mental peculiarities, which the several professional studies and habits tend, respectively, to produce. They may be, according to the degree of them, so trifling as not to amount even to a blemish ; or slight, or more serious defects ; or cases of complete mental distortion.
You will observe that I shall throughout confine myself to the consideration of the disadvantages and dangers pertaining to each profession, without touching on the intellectual and
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 3
moral benefits that may result from it. You may often hear from persons gifted with what the Ancients called epideictic eloquence, very admirable and gratifying panegyrics on each profession. But with a view to practical utility, the considera- tion of dangers to be guarded against is incomparably the most important ; because, to men in each respective profession, the beneficial results will usually take place even without their thinking about them ; whereas the dangers require to he care- fully noted, and habitually contemplated, in order that they may be effectually guarded against. A physician who had a friend about to settle in a hot climate, would be not so likely to dwell on the benefits he would derive spontaneously from breath- ing a warmer air, as to warn him of the dangers of sun-strokes and of marsh- exhalations.
And it may be added that a description of the faulty habits which the members of each profession are in especial danger of acquiring, amounts to a high eulogium on each individual, in proportion as he is exempt from those faults.
To treat fully of such a subject would of course require volumes ; but it may be not unsuitable to the present occasion to throw out a few slight hints, such as may be sufficient to turn your attention to a subject, which appears to me not only curious and interesting, but of great practical importance.
There is one class of dangers pertaining alike to every profession, every branch of study — every kind of distinct pur- suit. I mean the danger in each, to him who is devoted to it, of over-rating its importance as compared with others; and again, of unduly extending its province. To a man who has no enlarged views, no general cultivation of mind, and no familiar intercourse with the enlightened and the worthy of other classes besides his own, the result must be more or less of the several forms of narrow-mindedness. To apply to all questions, on all subjects, the same principles and rules of judging that are suitable to the particular questions and subjects about which he is especially conversant ; — to bring in those subjects and questions on all occasions, suitable or unsuitable ; like the
b3
4 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. I.
painter Horace alludes to, who introduced a cypress tree into the picture of a shipwreck ; — to regard his own particular pursuit as the one important and absorbing interest ; — to look on all other events, transactions, and occupations, chiefly as they minister more or less to that ; — to view the present state and past history of the world chiefly in reference to that; — and to feel a clanish attachment to the members of the particular profession or class he belongs to, as a hody or class ; (an attach- ment, by-the-by, which is often limited to the collective class, and not accompanied with kindly feelings towards the individual members of it,) and to have more or less an alienation of feeling from those of other classes ; — all these, and many other such, are symptoms of that narrow-mindedness which is to be found, alike, mutatis mutandis, in all who do not carefully guard themselves against it, whatever may be the profession or depart- ment of study of each.
Against this kind of danger the best preservative, next to that of being thoroughly aware of it, will be found in varied reading and varied society; in habitual intercourse with men, whether living or dead, — whether personally or in their works, — of different professions and walks of life, and, I may add, of different Countries and different Ages from our own.
It is remarked, in a work by Bishop Copleston, " that Locke, like most other writers on education, occasionally con- founds two things, which ought to be kept perfectly distinct, viz. that mode of education, which would be most beneficial, as a system, to society at large, with that which would contribute most to the advantage and prosperity of an individual. These things are often at variance with each other. The former is that alone which deserves the attention of a philosopher ; the latter is narrow, selfish, and mercenary. It is the latter indeed on which the world are most eager to inform themselves ; but the persons who instruct them, however they may deserve the thanks and esteem of those whom they benefit, do no service to mankind. There are but so many good places in the theatre of life; and he who puts us in the way of procuring one of them,
lect. I.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 5
does to ns indeed a great favour, but none to the whole as- sembly." And in the same work it is further observed, that, " In the cultivation of literature is found that common link, which among the higher and middling departments of life unites the jarring sects and subdivisions in one interest ; which sup- plies common topics, and kindles common feelings, unmixed with those narrow prejudices, with which all professions are more or less infected. The knowledge too, which is thus acquired, expands and enlarges the mind, excites its faculties, and calls those limbs and muscles into freer exercise, which, by too constant use in one direction, not only acquire an illiberal air, but are apt also to lose somewhat of their native play and energy. And thus, without directly qualifying a man for any of the employments of life, it enriches and ennobles all : with- out teaching him the peculiar benefits of any one office or call- ing, it enables him to act his part in each of them with better grace and more elevated carriage ; and, if happily planned and conducted, is a main ingredient in that complete and generous education, which fits a man1 ' to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war.' "
But to pass from the consideration of the dangers common to all, and to proceed to what is peculiar to each ; I will begin by pointing out one or two of those which especially pertain to the clerical profession.
The first that I shall notice is one to which I have fre- quently called attention, as being likely to beset all persons in proportion as they are occupied about things sacred ; in dis- cussing, and especially in giving instruction on, moral and religious subjects: and the clergy accordingly must be the most especially exposed to this danger : to the danger, I mean, of that callous indifference, which is proverbially apt to be the result of familiarity. On this point there are some most valuable remarks by Bishop Butler, which I have adverted to
Milton.
6 INFLUENCES OP THE [lect. i.
on various occasions, and among others, in a portion (which I will here take the liberty of citing) of the last unpublished Charge I had occasion to deliver.
" ' Going over,' says Bishop Butler, ' the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it ; — this is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insensible, i.e. form an habit of insensibility to all moral considerations. For, from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker ; thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less sensibly. Being accustomed to danger begets intrepidity, i.e. lessens fear ; to distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of others' mortality, the sensible apprehension of our own. And from these two observations together; — that practical habits are formed and strengthened by repeated acts, and that passive impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; — it must follow that active habits may be gradually forming and strengthening, by a course of acting upon such motives and excitements, while these motives and excitements themselves are by proportionable degrees growing less sensible, i.e. are continually less and less sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. And experience confirms this ; for, active prin- ciples, at the very same time that they are less lively in per- ception than they were, are found to be somehow wrought more thoroughly into the temper and character, and become more effectual in influencing our practice. The three things just mentioned may afford instances of it : perception of danger is a natural excitement of passive fear, and active caution ; and by being inured to clanger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception of distress in others, is a natural excitement, passively to pity, and actively to relieve it : but let a man set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 7
various miseries of life with which he must become acquainted ; when jet at the same time, benevolence, considered, not as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will strengthen ; and whilst he passively compassionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to assist and befriend them. So also at the same time that the daily instances of men's dying around us, gives us daily a less sensible passive feeling, or apprehension of our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the strengthening a practical regard to it in serious men ; i.e. to forming a habit of acting with a con- stant view to it. And this seems again further to show, that, passive impressions made upon our minds by admonition, experience, example, though they may have a remote efficacy, and a very great one, towards forming active habits, yet can have this efficacy no otherwise than by inducing us to such a course of action ; and that it is not being affected so and so, but acting, which forms those habits. Only it must always be remembered, that real endeavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves, are a species of virtuous action.' " Thus far Bishop Butler. " That moral habits," I proceeded to say, " can only be acquired by practical efforts, was long since remarked by Aristotle ; who ridicules those that attended philosophical discourses with an expectation of improvement, while they con- tented themselves with listening, understanding, and approving ; comparing them to a patient who should hope to regain health by listening to his physician's directions, without following them. But he omitted to add, as Bishop Butler has done, that such a procedure is much worse than useless ; being positively dangerous.
" I need hardly remark, that what the author says of virtue, is at least equally applicable to religion ; and that consequently, no one is so incurably and hopelessly hardened in practical irreligion as one who has the most perfect familiarity with religious subjects and religious feelings, without having cul- tivated corresponding active principles. It is he that is, em- phatically, 'the barren fig-tree,' which has 'no fruit on it,
8 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
but leaves only !' not, a tree standing torpid and destitute of all vegetation, during the winter's frost or summer's drought, and capable of being called into life and productiveness, by rain and sunshine ; but, a tree in full vigour of life and growth, whose sap is all diverted from the formation of fruit, and is expended in flourishing boughs that bear only barren leaves."
I need hardly say that the danger I have been now alluding to, as it is one which besets each person the more in proportion as he is conversant about religious and moral dis- cussions, studies and reflections, is accordingly one which the Clergy most especially should be vigilantly on their guard against, as being professionally occupied with this class of subjects.
They are professionally exposed again to another danger, chiefly intellectual, from the circumstance of their having usually to hold so much intercourse, in their private ministra- tions, with persons whose reasoning powers are either naturally weak, or very little cultivated, or not called forth on those subjects, and on those occasions, on which they are conversing professionally with a clergyman. How large a proportion of mankind taken indiscriminately, must be expected to fall under one or other of these descriptions, we must be well aware : and it is with mankind thus taken indiscriminately, that the Clergy in the domestic portion of their ministrations, are to hold inter- course. Even a disproportionate share of their attention is usually claimed by the poorer, the younger, and in short generally, the less educated among their people. Among these there must of course always be a large proportion who will be often more readily influenced by a fallacious, than by a sound reason ; — who will often receive readily an insufficient explana- tion, and will often be prevented by ignorance, or dulness, or prejudice, from admitting a correct one. And moreover, of those whose qualifications are higher, as respects other subjects, there are not a few who, on moral and religious subjects, (from various causes,) fall far short of themselves. There are not a few, e.g. who, while in the full vigour of body and mind, pay little or no attention to any such subjects; and when
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 9
enfeebled in their mental powers by sickness or sudden terror, or decrepit age, will resign themselves to indiscriminate cre- dulity— who at one time will listen to nothing, and at another, will listen to i ny thing.
With all these classes of persons, then, a clergyman is led, in the course of his private duty, to have much intercourse. And that such intercourse is likely to be any thing but im- proving to the reasoning faculties — to their development, or their correction, or even to sincerity and fairness in the exer- cise of them, is sufficiently evident. The danger is one which it is important to have clearly before us. When a man of good sense distinctly perceives it, and carefully and habitually reflects on it, he will not be much at a loss as to the means by which it is to be guarded against.
You will observe that 1 have pointed out under this head a moral, as well as an intellectual danger. And in truth the temptation is not at all a weak one, even to one who is far from an insincere character altogether, to lead ignorant, or ill- educated, and prejudiced men into what he is convinced is best for them, by unsound reasons, when he finds them indisposed to listen to sound ones ; thus satisfying his conscience that he is making a kind of compensation, since there really are good grounds (though they cannot see them) for the conclusion he advocates ; till he acquires a habit of tampering with truth, and finally loses all reverence and all relish for it.1
Another class of dangers, and perhaps the greatest of all to which the Clergy are professionally exposed, and which is the last I shall mention, is the temptation to prefer popularity to truth, and the present comfort and gratification of the people to their ultimate welfare. The well-known fable of Mahomet and the mountain, which he found it easier to go to, himself, than to make the mountain come to him, may be regarded as a sort of allegorical type of any one who seeks to give peace of conscience and satisfaction to his hearers, and to obtain applause
1 See Essay on Pious Frauds (Third Series) ; and Dr. West's Discourse on Reserve.
10 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
for himself, by bringing his doctrine and language into a con- formity with the inclinations and the conduct of his hearers, rather than by bringing the character of the hearers into a conformity with what is true and right. Not that there are many, who are, in the outset at least, so unprincipled as deliberately to suppress essential truths, or to inculcate known falsehood, for the sake of administering groundless comfort, or gaining applause ; but as " a gift" is said in Scripture to " blind the eyes," so, the bribe of popularity (especially when the alternative is perhaps severe censure, and even persecution) is likely, by little and little, to bias the judgment, — to blind the eyes first to the importance, and afterwards to the truth, of unpopular doctrines and precepts ; and ultimately to bring a man himself to believe what his hearers wish him to teach1.
Popularity has, of course, great charms for all classes of men ; but in the case of a clergyman it offers this additional temptation ; that it is to him, in a great degree, the favourable opinion not merely of the world in general, or of a multitude assembled on some special occasion, but of the very neighbours by whom he is surrounded, and with whom he is in habits of daily intercourse.
There is another most material circumstance also which (in respect of this point) distinguishes the case of the clerical pro- fession from that of any other. It is true that a medical man may be under a temptation to flatter his patients with false hopes, to indulge them in unsuitable regimen, to substitute some cordial that gives temporary relief, for salutary but unpleasant medicines, or painful operations, such as are really needful for a cure. But those (and there are such, as is well known) who pursue such a course, can seldom obtain more than temporary success. When it is seen that their patients do not ultimately recover, and that all the fair promises given, and sanguine hopes raised, end in aggravation of disease, or in premature death — the bubble bursts; and men quit these pretenders for those
1 All this is of course especially applicable under wliat is called the " Voluntary System."
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 11
whose practice bears the test of experience. These, therefore, are induced by a regard for their own permanent success in their profession, as well as by higher motives, to prefer the correct and safe mode of treating their patients. But it is far otherwise with those whose concern is with the diseases of the soul, not of the body — with the next life instead of this. Their treatment cannot be brought to the same test of experience till the day of Judgment. If they shall have deluded both their hearers and themselves by " speaking peace when there is no peace," the flattering cordial, however deleterious, may remain undetected, and both parties may continue in the error all their lives, and the error may even survive them1.
So also again in the legal profession ; — one who gives flat- tering but unsound advice to his clients, or who pleads causes with specious elegance, unsupported by accurate legal know- ledge, may gain a temporary, but seldom more than a temporary, popularity. It is his interest, therefore, no less than his duty, to acquire this accurate knowledge : and if he is mistaken on any point, the decisions of a Court will give him sufficient warning to be more careful in future. But the Court which is finally to correct the other class of mistakes, is the one that will sit on that last great Day, when the tares will be finally separated from the wheat, and when the " wood, hay, and stubble," that may have been built up on the divine foundation, by human folly or artifice, will be burned up.
The Clergy therefore have evidently more need than others to be on their guard against a temptation, from which they are not, like others, protected by considerations of temporal interest, or by the lessons of daily experience.
With regard to the medical profession there used to be (for of late I think it is otherwise) a remark almost proverbially common, that the members of it were especially prone to infi- delity, and even to Atheism. And the same imputation was by many persons extended to those occupied in such branches of
1 See Scripture Revelations of a Future State, Lect. XII.
12 INFLUENCES OF THE [LEct. i.
physical science as are the most connected with medicine ; and even to scientific men generally. Of late years, as I have said, this impression has become much less prevalent.
In a question of fact, such as this, open to general observa- tion, there is a strong presumption afforded by the prevalence of any opinion, that it has at least some kind of foundation in truth. There is a presumption, that either medical men were more generally unbelievers than the average, or at least, that those of them who were so were more ready to avow it. In like manner there is a corresponding presumption, that in the present generation of medical men there is a greater proportion than among their predecessors, who are either believers in Revelation, or at least not avowed unbelievers.
It will be more profitable, however, instead of entering on any question as to the amount and extent, present or past, of the danger to which I have been alluding, to offer some con- jectures as to the causes of it.
The one which I conceive occurs the most readily to most men's minds is, that a medical practitioner has no Sunday. The character of his profession does not admit of bis regularly aban- doning it for one day in the week, and regularly attending pub- lic worship along with Christians of all classes. Now various as are the modes of observing the Lord's- day in different christian countries, and diverse as are the modes of worship, there is perhaps no point in which Christians of all ages and countries have been more agreed, than in assembling together for some kind of joint worship on the first day of the week. And no one I think can doubt, that, independently of any edification derived from the peculiar religious services which they respec- tively attend, the mere circumstance of doing something every week as a religious observance, must have some tendency to keep up in men's minds a degree of respect, rational or irrational, for the religion in whose outward observances they take a part.
A physician in considerable practice must, we know, often be prevented from doing this. And the professional calls, it may be added, which make it often impossible for him to
iect. I.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 13
attend public worship, will naturally tend, by destroying the habit, to keep him away, even when attendance is possible. Anything that' a person is prevented from doing habitually, he is likely habitually to omit. There is nothing peculiar in the case of attendance on public worship. The same thing may be observed in many ot ers equally. A man placed in circumstances which interfere with his forming or keeping up domestic habits, or literary habits, or habits of bodily activity, is likely to be less ^domestic, less literary, more sedentary, than his circumstances require.
I have no doubt that the cause I have now been adverting to does operate. But there are others, less obvious perhaps, but I think not less important. A religion which represents Man's whole existence as divided into two portions, of which his life on earth is every way incalculably the smaller, is forcibly brought before the mind in a way to excite serious reflections, by such an event as death, when occurring before our eyes, or within our particular knowledge. Now a medical man is familiar with death ; i. e. with the sight and the idea of it. And the indifference which is likely to result from such familiarity, I need not here dwell on, further than to refer you to the passage of Bishop Butler already cited.
But moreover death is not only familiar to the physician, but it is also familiar to him as the final termination of that state of existence with which alone he has 'professionally any concern. As a Christian he may regard it as preparatory to a new state of existence ; but as a physician he is concerned only with life in this world, which it is his business to in- vigorate and to prolong ; and with death, only as the final catastrophe which he is to keep off as long as possible, and in reference merely to the physical causes which have pro- duced it.
Now the habit of thus contemplating death, must have a tendency to divert the mind from reflecting on it with reference to other and dissimilar considerations. For, it may be laid down as a general maxim, that the habit of contemplating any class
14 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
of objects in such and such a particular point of view, tends, so far, to render us the less qualified for contemplating them in any other point of view. And this maxim, I conceive, is capable of very extensive application in reference to all professional studies and pursuits ; and goes far towards fur- nishing an explanation of their effects on the mind of the individual.
But there is another cause, and the last I shall notice under the present head, which I conceive co-operates frequently with those above-mentioned: I mean the practice common with many Divines of setting forth certain physiological or metaphysical theories as part and parcel of the christian reve- lation, or as essentially connected with it. If any of these be unsound, they may, nevertheless, pass muster with the generality of readers and hearers ; and however unprofitable, may be, to them, at least harmless; but they present a stumbling-block to the medical man, and to the physiologist, who may perceive that unsoundness. For example, I have known Divines not only maintaining the immateriality of the soul as a necessary preliminary to the reception of Christianity, — as the very basis of Gospel-revelation, — but maintaining it by such arguments as go to prove the entire independence of mind on matter ; urging, e. g. among others, the instances of full manifestation of the intellectual powers in persons at the point of death. Now this, or the opposite, the physiologist will usually explain from the different parts of the bodily frame that are affected in each different disease. If he believes the brain to be necessarily connected with the mind, this belief will not be shaken by the manifestation of me»tal powers in a. person who is dying of a disease of the lungs. He will no more infer from this that mind is wholly independent of the body, than he would, that sight is independent of the body, because a man may retain his powers of vision when his limbs are crippled.
The questions concerning materialism I do not mean to enter upon : I only wish to call your attention to the mistake
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 15
common to both parties : that of supposing that these questions are vitally connected with Christianity ; whereas there is not one word relating to them in the christian Scriptures. In- deed even at this day a large proportion of sincere Christians among the humbler classes, are decidedly materialists ; though if you inquired of them, they would deny it, because they are accustomed to confine the word matter to things perceptible to the touch ; but their belief in ghosts or spirits having been seen and heard, evidently implies the possession by these of what philosophers reckon attributes of matter. And the dis- ciples of Jesus were terrified, we are told, when they saw Him after his resurrection, " supposing that they saw a spirit.' He convinced them, we read, of his being real flesh and blood: but whatever may have been their error as to the visible, — and consequently material — character of a Spirit, it does not appear that He thought it essential to instruct them on that head. He who believed that Jesus was truly risen from the dead, and that the same power would raise up his followers at the last day, had secured the foundation of the christian faith.
It is much to be wished that religious persons would be careful to abstain — I do not say, from entering on any physio- logical or metaphysical speculations (which they have a perfect right to do) — but from mixing up these with Christianity, and making every thing that they believe on matters at all con- nected with religion, a part of their religious faith. I re- member conversing with an intelligent man on the subject of some speculations tending to a revival of the doctrine of equivocal generation, which he censured, as leading to Atheism. He was somewhat startled on my reminding him that two hundred years ago many would have as readily set a man down as an atheist who should have denied that doctrine. Both conclusions, I conceive, to be alike rash and unwarrantable.
I cannot but advert in concluding this head, to the danger likely to arise from the language of some Divines respecting a peaceful or troubled departure, as a sure criterion of a christian or an unchristian life. " A death-bed's a detector of the heart,"
16 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
is the observation of one of them, who is well known as a poet. Now, that a man's state of mind on his death-bed is often very much influenced by his past life, there is no doubt ; but I believe most medical men can testify that it is quite as often and as much influenced by the disease of which he dies. The effects of certain nervous and other disorders in producing dis- tressing agitation, — of the process of suppuration, in producing depression oF spirits— the calming and socthing effects of a mortification in its last stage, and many other such phenomena, are, I believe, familiar to practitioners. When then they find promises and threats boldly held out which are far from being regularly fulfilled, — when they find various statements con- fidently made, some of which appear to them improbable, and others at variance with facts coming under their own experience, they are in danger of drawing conclusions unfavourable to the truth of Christianity, if they apply too hastily the maxim of " peritis credendum est in arte sua;" and take for granted on the word of Divines that whatever they teach as a part of Christianity, really is so ; without making inquiry for them- selves. They are indeed no less culpably rash in such a pro- cedure than any one would have been who should reason in a similar manner from the works of medical men two or three hundred years ago ; who taught the influence of the stars on the human frame — the importance of the moon's phases to the efficacy of medicines, and other such fancies. Should any one have thence inferred that astronomy and medicine never could have any claims to attention, and were merely idle dreams of empty pretenders, he would not have been more rash than a physician or physiologist who judges of Christianity by the hypotheses of all who profess to teach it.
The effects, moral and intellectual, of the study and practice OF the law is a subject to which I could not have done justice within the limits of a single lecture, even had I confined myself to that one department. For, the Law, — especially considered in this point of view, — is not one pro-
PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER.
17
fession, but many — a Judge, an Attorney, a Solicitor, a Com- mon-Law Barrister, a Chancery Barrister, a Special Pleader, &c, are all occupied with Law ; but widely different are the effects, advantageous and disadvantageous, likely to be pro- duced on their minds by their respective occupations1.
On this point I have thrown out a slight hint in a treatise on logic (the joint work of Bishop Copies ton and myself), from which I will take the liberty of citing a short passage: [Book IV. Chap. III. §§ 1. 2.]
" Reasoning comprehends inferring and proving ; which are not two different things, but the same thing regarded in two different points of view : like the road from London to York, and the road from York to London. He who infers, proves ; and he who proves, infers; but the word ' infer' fixes the mind first on the premiss, and then on the conclusion ; the word ' prove,' on the contrary, leads the mind from the conclusion to the premiss. Hence, the substantives derived from these words respectively, are often used to express that which, on each
1 It is worth remarking that there is one point wherein some branches of the Law differ from others, and agree with some Professions of a totally different class. Superior ability and professional skill, in a Judge, a Solicitor, or a Con- veyancer, are, if combined with integrity, a public benefit. They confer a service on certain individuals, not at the expense of any others : and the death or retire- ment of a man thus qualified, is a loss to the community. And the same may be said of a Physician, a Manufacturer, a Navigator, &c. of extraordinary ability. A Pleader, on the contrary, of powers far above the average, is not, as such, serviceable to the Public. He obtains wealth and credit for himself and his family; but any especial advantage ac- cruing from his superior ability, to those who chance to be his clients, is just so much loss to those he chances to be op- posed to : and which party is, on each occasion, in the right, must be regarded W. E.
as an even chance. His death, therefore, would be no loss to the Public ; only, to those particular persons who might have benefited by his superior abilities, at their opponents' expense. It is not that Advocates, generally, are not useful to the Public. They are even necessary. But extraordinary ability in an Advo- cate, is an advantage only to himself and his friends. To the Public, the most de- sirable thing is, that Pleaders should be as equally matched as possible ; so that neither John Doe nor Richard Roe should have any advantage independent of the goodness of his cause. Extraordinary ability in an Advocate may indeed raise him to great wealth, or to a seat on the B^nch, or in the Senate ; and he may use these advantages — as many illustri- ous examples show, greatly to the public benefit But then, it is not as an Advo- cate, directly, but as a rich man, as a Judge, or as a Senator, that he thus benefits his Country.
c
18 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. i.
occasion, is last in the mind ; inference being often used to signify the conclusion (i.e. proposition inferred) and proof — the premiss. We say, also, ' How do you prove that ? ' and ' What do you infer from that?' which sentences would not be so properly expressed if we were to transpose those verbs. One might, therefore, define proving^ ' the assigning of a reason or argument for the support of a given proposition;' and inferring, ' the deduction of a conclusion from given premises.'
" In the one case our Conclusion is given (i.e., set before us as the Question) and we have to seek for arguments ; in the other, our premises are given, and we have to seek for a Conclusion — i.e., to put together our own Propositions, and try what will follow from them ; or, to speak more logically, in one case, we seek to refer the Subject of which we would predicate something to a Class to which that Predicate will (affirmatively or negatively) apply; in the other, we seek to find compre- hended in the Subject of which we have predicated something, some other term to which that Predicate had not been before applied. Each of these is a definition of reasoning. To infer, then, is the business of the Philosopher; to prove, of the Advocate ; the former, from the great mass of known and admitted truths, wishes to elicit any valuable additional truth whatever, that has been hitherto unperceived; and perhaps with- out knowing with certainty what will be the terms of his con- clusion. Thus the Mathematician, e.g., seeks to ascertain what is the ratio of circles to each other, or what is the line whose square will be equal to a given circle. The Advocate, on the other hand, has a proposition put before him, which he is to maintain as well as he can. His business, therefore, is to find Middle-terms (which is the inventio of Cicero) ; the Philosopher's to combine and select known facts or principles, suitably for gaining from them conclusions which, though implied in the premises, were before unperceived; in other words, for making ' logical discoveries.' "
To this I will take the liberty of adding another short extract from the treatise on rhetoric ; which may furnish a
U5CT. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 19
hint as to a class of dangers common to men of every pursuit and profession ; that of a person supposing himself, from having been long conversant with a certain subject, to be qualified for every kind of business, or of discussion that relates to the same subject:— [Rhet., Part II. Chap. III. § 5.] "The longest practice in conducting any business in one way, does not neces- sarily confer any experience in conducting it in a different way. JE.G.,axi experienced husbandman, or minister of state, in Persia, would be much at a loss in Europe; and if they had some things less to learn than an entire novice, on the other hand they would have much to wwlearn ; and, again, merely being conversant about a certain class of subjects, does not confer experience in a case where the operations and the end proposed are different. It is said that there was an Amsterdam merchant, who had dealt largely in corn all his life, who had never seen a field of wheat growing. This man had doubtless acquired, by experience, an accurate judgment of the qualities of each description of corn — of the best methods of storing it, — of the arts of buying and selling it at proper times, &c. ; but he would have been greatly at a loss in its cultivation, though he had been, in a certain way, long conversant about corn. Nearly similar is the experience of a practised lawyer, (supposing him to be nothing more,) in a case of legislation. Because he has been long conversant about law, the unreflecting attribute great weight to his judgment : whereas his constant habits of fixing his thoughts on what the law is, and withdrawing it from the irrelevant question of what the law ought to be, — his careful observance of a multitude of rules, (which afford the more scope for the display of his skill, in proportion as they are arbitrary, unreasonable, and unaccountable,) with a studied indifference as to (that which is foreign from his business,) the convenience or inconvenience of those rules — may be expected to operate unfavourably on his judgment in questions of legis- lation; and are likely to counterbalance the advantages of his superior knowledge, even in such points as do bear on the question."
c3
20 INFLUENCES OF THE [lect. I.
And here I may remark by the way, that a person -engaged habitually in State affairs — a Politician by profession — ought to be peculiarly on his guard against supposing his mode of life to generate especial qualifications in those very points in which its tendency is, — unless particular care be ta,ken to guard against the danger, — to produce rather a disqualification. Who is likely to be the best judge (other points being equal) it might be asked, of the relative importance of political questions ? At the first glance many would be disposed to answer, " Of course, a politician." But the disproportionate attention necessarily bestowed on different questions, according as they are or are not made party -questions — the fields of battle on which the contests for political superiority are to be carried on — inde- pendently of the intrinsic importance of each — this is a cause which must be continually operating to disturb the judgment of one practically engaged in politics. Every one at all versed in history must be acquainted with many instances of severe and protracted struggles concerning matters which are now remembered only on account of the struggles they occasioned ; and again, of enactments materially affecting the welfare of unborn millions, which hardly attracted any notice at the time, and were slipped into one of the heterogeneous clauses of an Act of Parliament.
Precluded, then, as I find myself, for the reasons above mentioned, from entering fully on the consideration of the several departments of legal study and practice, I will detain you only with a few brief hints respecting some of the dangers to be guarded against from the barrister's profession.
He is, as I have already observed, in less danger than a Clergyman, of settling down into some confirmed incorrect view of any particular points connected with his profession ; both for the reason there given, — there being a Court on earth to correct any mistake he may make ; — and also because having to plead various causes, he is called upon to extenuate to-day what he aggravated yesterday, — to attach more or less weight, at different times, to the same kind of evidence — to impugn,
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 21
and to enforce, the same principles, according as the interests of his clients may require.
But this very circumstance must evidently have a tendency, which ought to be sedulously guarded against, to alienate the mind from the investigation of truth. Bishop Butler observes, and laments, that it is very common for men to have " a curiosity to know what is said, but no curiosity to know what is true.'''' Now none can be (other points being equal) more in need of being put on his guard against this fault, than he who is professionally occupied with a multitude of cases, in each of which he is to consider what may be plausibly urged on both sides ; while the question what ought to he the decision, is out of his province as a Pleader. I am supposing him not to be seeking to mislead a Judge or Jury by urging fallacious arguments : but there will often be sound and valid arguments — real probabilities — on opposite sides. A Judge, or any one whose business is to ascertain truth, is to decide according to the preponderance of the reasons ; but the Pleader's business is merely to set forth, as forcibly as possible, those on his own side. And if he thinks that the habitual practice of this has no tendency to generate in him, morally, any indifference, or intellectually, any incompetence, in respect of the ascertainment of truth, — if he consider himself quite safe from any such danger, — I should then say that he is in very great danger.
I have been supposing (as has been said) that he is one who would scruple to mislead wilfully a Judge or Jury by specious sophistry, or to seek to embarrass an honest witness, and bring his testimony into discredit ; but there is no denying that he is under a great temptation even to resort to this. Nay, it has even been maintained by no mean authority, that it is part of a Pleader's duty to have no scruples about this or any other act whatever that may benefit his client. " There are many whom it may be needful to remind," says an eminent lawyer, " that an Advocate, by the sacred duty of his connexion with his client, knows in the discharge of that office but one person in the world — that client and none other. To serve that client by all
22 INFLUENCES OF THE [leCT. x.
expedient means, to protect that client at all hazards and costs to all others (even the party already injured) and amongst others to himself, is the highest and most unquestioned of his duties. And he must not regard the alarm, the suffering, the torment, the destruction, which he may bring upon any others. Nay, separating even the duties of a patriot from those of an advocate, he must go on, reckless of the consequences, if his fate should unhappily he to involve his country in confusion for his client." — [Licence of Counsel, p. 3.]
On the other hand it is recorded that " Sir Matthew Hale, whenever he was convinced of the injustice of any cause, would engage no more in it than to explain to his client the grounds of that conviction ; he abhorred the practice of misreciting evidence, quoting precedents in books falsely or unfairly, so as to deceive ignorant juries or inattentive judges ; and he adhered to the same scrupulous sincerity in his pleadings which he observed in the other transactions of life. It was as great a dishonour as a man was capable of, that for a little money he was hired to say otherwise than he thought." — [Licence of Counsel, p. 4.]
" The Advocate," says another eminent legal writer, " ob- serving in an honest witness a deponent whose testimony promises to be adverse, assumes terrific tones and deportment, and, pretending to find dishonesty on the part of the witness, strives to give his testimony the appearance of it. I say a "bona fide witness ; for in the case of a witness who, by an ad- verse interrogator, is really looked upon as dishonest, this is not the proper course, nor is it taken with him. For bringing to light the falsehood of a witness really believed to be mendacious, the more suitable, or rather the only suitable course is to for- bear to express the impression he has inspired. Supposing his tale clear of suspicion, the witness runs on his course with fluency till he is entangled in some irretrievable contradiction, at variance with other parts of his own story, or with facts notorious in themselves, or established by proofs from other sources." — [Licence of Coansel, p. 5.]
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 23
" We happen to be aware, from the practice of persons of the highest experience in the examination of witnesses, that this description is almost without exception correct, and that, as a general rule, it is only the honest and timid witness who is con- founded by imperious deportment. The practice gives pre- eminence to the unscrupulous witness who can withstand such assaults. Sir Roger North, in his Life of Sir Dudley North, relates that the law of Turkey, like our absurd law of evidence in some cases, required the testimony of two witnesses in proof of each fact ; and that a practice had in consequence arisen, and had obtained the sanction of general opinion, of using a false witness in proof of those facts which admitted of only one witness. Sir Dudley North, while in Turkey, had numerous disputes, which it became necessary to settle by litigation, — 1 and,' says his biographer, c our merchant found by experience, that in a direct fact a false witness was a surer card than a true one ; for if the judge has a mind to baffle a testimony, an honest, harmless witness, that doth not know his play, cannot so well stand his many captious questions as a false witness used to the trade will do; for he hath been exercised, and is prepared for such handling, and can clear himself, when the other will be confounded : therefore circumstances may be such as to make the false one more eligible.' "
According to one, then, of the writers I have cited, an Ad- vocate is justified, and is fulfilling a duty, not only in protesting with solemnity his own full conviction of the justice of his client's cause, though he may feel no such conviction, — not only in feigning various emotions, (like an actor ; except that the actor's credit consists in its being known that he is only feigning,) such as pity, indignation, moral approbation, or dis- gust, or contempt, when he neither feels any thing of the kind, nor believes the case to be one that justly calls for such feelings ; but he is also occasionally to entrap or mislead, to revile, insult, and calumniate persons whom he may in his heart believe to be respectable persons and honest witnesses. Another on the contrary observes : " We might ask our learned
24 INFLUENCES OF TIIE [lect. i.
friend and fellow-christian, as well as the learned and noble editor of Paleijs Natural Theology, and his other fellow-pro- fessors of the religion which says ' that lying lips are an abomi- nation to the Lord,' to. explain to us how they reconcile the practice under their rule, with the christian precepts, or avoid the solemn scriptural denunciation — ' Wo unto them that call evil good, and good evil ; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness ; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter; . . . which justify the wicked for reward, and take away the righteousness of the righteous from him.' " — [Licence of Counsel, p. 10.]
I have brought forward by choice the opinions of legal writers, both for and against the necessity and allowableness of certain practices ; leaving each person to decide for himself both what is the right course for a Pleader to pursue, and what is the probable effect produced on the mind by the course pursued respectively by each. I will add only one remark, extracted from a work of my own, indicative of my own judgment as to the points touched on.
" In oral examination of witnesses, a skilful cross-examiner will often elicit from a reluctant witness most important truths, which the witness is desirous of concealing or disguising. There is another kind of skill, which consists in so alarming, mis- leading, or bewildering an honest witness, as to throw discredit on his testimony, or pervert the effect of it. Of this kind of art, which may be characterised as the most, or one of the most, base and depraved of all possible employments of intel- lectual power, I shall only make one further observation. I am convinced that the most effectual mode of eliciting truth, is quite different from that by which an honest, simple-minded witness is most easily baffled and confused. I have seen the experiment tried, of subjecting a witness to such a kind of cross-examination by a practised lawyer, as would have been, I am convinced, the most likely to alarm and perplex many an honest witness, without any effect in shaking the testimony ; and afterwards, by a totally opposite mode of examination, such as
lect. i.] PROFESSIONS ON THE CHARACTER. 25
■would not have at all perplexed one who was honestly telling the truth, that same witness was drawn on, step by step, to acknowledge the utter falsity of the whole. Generally speaking, I believe that a quiet, gentle, and straightforward, though full and careful, examination, will be the most adapted to elicit truth ; and that the manoeuvres, and the brow-beating, which are the most adapted to confuse an honest witness, are just what the dishonest one is the best prepared for. The more the storm blusters, the more carefully he wraps round him the cloak, which a warm sunshine will often induce him to throw off1."
I have thought it best, for the reasons formerly given, to omit all notice of the advantages to be derived from each class of professional pursuits, and to confine myself to the dangers which are to be guarded against, and which consequently require to be carefully contemplated. Even in respect of these, however, I have been compelled, not only to omit many remarks that will perhaps occur to your own minds, relative to each of the Professions I have spoken of, but also to leave several of the most important Professions wholly unnoticed, (the Military, the Naval, the Mercantile, &c.) not from their not exercising as important an influence, for good or evil, on the human mind, as those which I have mentioned, but because I could not tres- pass further on your patience ; and also, because I conceive that any one, in whatever walk of life, whose attention is so awakened to that class of considerations which I have laid before you, as to be put on the watch for the peculiar effects on hia own character likely to result from his own Profession, will be induced to follow up the investigation for himself, to his own practical benefit.
1 Ehetorie, Part I. Chap. II. \ 4.
LECTURE II.
ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION.
A subject on which I have for many years bestowed con- siderable attention, as appearing to me both very curious, and, in many respects, highly important (much more so than many suppose), is, the Origin of Civilisation. And I propose to lay before you a small portion of the results of my researches, and reflections thereupon ; which will, I trust, be found not un- interesting or un instructive.
Every one who is at all acquainted with works of ancient history, or of voyages and travels, or who has conversed with persons that have visited distant regions, must have been greatly struck (if possessing at all a thoughtful and intelligent mind) with the vast difference between civilised Man and the savage. If you look to the very lowest and rudest races that inhabit the earth, you behold Beings sunk almost to the level of the brute-creation, and, in some points, even below the brutes. Ignorant and thoughtless, gross in their tastes, filthy in their habits, with the passions of men, but with the intellect of little children, they roam, half-naked and half-starved, over districts which might be made to support in plenty and in comfort as many thousands of civilised Europeans as there are' indi- viduals in the savage tribe. And they are sunk, for the most part, quite as low, morally, as they are intellectually. Poly- gamy, in its most gross and revolting form, and infanticide, prevail among most savage tribes ; and cannibalism among many. And the sick or helplessly aged are usually abandoned
lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 27
by their relatives, to starve, or to be devoured by wild beasts. Even in bodily person they differ greatly from the civilised man. They are not only, in general, very ugly and ill-made, but, in the structure of their limbs, and especially in the head and face, they approach considerably to animals of the ape tribe ; and the countenance is usually expressive of a mixture of stupidity, ferocity, and something of suspiciousness and low cunning.
If you compare together merely the very lowest of savages and the most highly civilised specimens of the European races, you will be at first inclined to doubt whether they can all belong to the same Species. But though the very topmost round of the ladder is at a vast distance from the ground, there are numerous steps between them, each but a very little removed from that next above and that next below it. The savages whom we found in Van Diemen's Land, and of whom there is now but a very small remnant, and others of the same race, — the Papuan, — who are found widely scattered over the South-eastern regions of the globe, — the people of Tierra del Fuego, in the Southern extremity of America, — and again, the Bushmen-Hottentots in the neighbourhood of the Cape Colony (some specimens of whom were not long since exhibited in this country), seem to be the lowest of savages. But one might find specimens of the human race, to the number of perhaps twenty or more, gradually ascending by successive steps, from these, up to the most civilised nations upon the earth ; each, not very far removed from the one below and the one above it; though the two extremes present such a pro- digious contrast.
As for the alleged advantages of savage life — the freedom enjoyed by Man in a wild state, and the pure simplicity, and innocence, and magnanimous generosity of character that he exhibits — I need not, I trust, detain you by offering proofs that all this exists only in poems and romances, and in the imagination of their readers ; or in the theories of such philo- sophers as the well-known Rousseau, who have undertaken to
28 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. u.
ma'ntain a monstrous paradox because it affords the best exercise for their ingenuity, and who perhaps have ended in being themselves bewildered by that very ingenuity of their own, like a spider entangled in the web spun by herself. The liberty enjoyed by the savage, consists in his being left free to oppress and plunder any one who is weaker than himself, and in being exposed to the same treatment from those who are stronger. His boasted simplicity consists merely in grossness of taste, improvidence, and ignorance. And his virtue merely amounts to this, that though not less covetous, envious, and malicious than civilised Man, he wants the skill to be as dan- gerous as one of equally depraved character, but more intelligent and better informed.
I have heard it remarked, however, by persons not destitute
of intelligence, as a presumption in favour of savage life, that
it has sometimes been voluntarily embraced by civilised men ;
while, on the other hand, it has seldom if ever happened that a
. savage has consented to conform to civilised life.
But this is easily explained, even from the very inferiority of the savage state. It is easier to sink than to rise. To lay aside or lose what we have, is far easier than to acquire what we have not. The savage has no taste for the enjoyments of civilised life. Its pursuits and occupations are what he wants capacity to enjoy, or understand, or sympathise with. On the other hand, the pursuits and gratifications (such as they are) of the savage, are what the civilised man can fully understand and partake of; and if he does but throw aside and disregard the higher portion of his nature, he can enter heartily into the enjoyments of a hunting tribe of wild Indians, whose business is the same as the recreation of the sportsman, and who alternate the labours of the chase with torpid repose and sensual indulgence.
In short, the case is nearly the same as with the resem- blance, and the distinction, between Man and the brute crea- tures. Man is an animal as well as they. He has much in common with them, and something more besides. Both have
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 29
the same appetites, and many of the same passions ; but the brutes lack most of the intellectual and moral faculties ; and hence, a brute cannot be raised into a man, though it is possible, as we too often find, for a man to sink himself nearly into a brute, by giving himself up to mere animal gratifications, and neglecting altogether the nobler and more properly human portion of himself.
It may be worth remarking, before I quit this portion of the subject, that persons not accustomed to accuracy of think- ing, are often misled by the differences of form, and conse- quently of name, under which the same evils may be found in different states of society ; and consequently are inclined to suppose that others may be exempt from such vices and other evils as prevail among ourselves, inasmuch as they cannot have exactly the same under the same titles. Where there is no property in land, for instance, there cannot be a grasping and oppressive landlord ; where there is no trade, there can be no bankrupts ; and where money is unknown, the love of money, which is our common designation of avarice, cannot exist. And thence the unthinking are perhaps led to imagine that avarice itself has no place in the savage state, and that oppres- sion, and cruelty, and rapacity, and ruin, must be there un- known.
But the savage is commonly found to be covetous, often thievish, when his present inclination impels him towards any objects he needs, or which his fancy is set on. He is not, indeed, so steady, or so provident, in his pursuit of gain as the civilised man; but this is from the general unsteadiness and improvidence of his character ; not from his being engrossed by higher pursuits. What keeps him poor, in addition to in- security of property and want of skill, is, not a philosophical contempt of riches, but a love of sluggish torpor and of present gratification. Lamentable as it is to see multitudes — as we may among ourselves — of Beings of such high qualifications and such high destination as Man, absorbed in the pursuit of merely external and merely temporal objects, — occupied in
30 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [am. rr.
schemes for attaining worldly wealth and aggrandisement for its own sake, and without reference to any higher object, — we should remember that the savage is not above such a life, but below it. It is not from preferring virtue to wealth, — the goods of the mind to those of fortune, — the next world to the present, — that he takes so little thought for the morrow ; but from want of forethought, and of habitual self-control. The civilised man too often directs these qualities to unworthy objects ; the savage, universally, is deficient in the qualities themselves. The one is a stream flowing too often in a wrong channel, and which needs to have its course altered ; the other is a stagnant pool.
Such is Man in what is commonly called a " state of nature." But it can hardly be called with propriety Man's " natural state ;" since in it a large proportion of his faculties remain dormant and undeveloped. A plant would not be said to be in its most natural state when growing in a soil or climate that would not allow it to put forth the flowers and the fruit for which its organisation was destined. Any one who saw the pine-trees high up on the Alps, when growing near the boundary of perpetual snow, stunted to the height of two or three feet, and struggling to exist amidst rock and ice, would hardly describe that as the natural state of a tree which, in a more genial soil and climate a little lower down, was found towering to the height of fifty or sixty yards. In like manner, the natural state of Man must, according to all fair analogy, be reckoned, not that in which his intellectual and moral growth are as it were stunted and permanently repressed, but one in which his original endow- ments are — I do not say brought to perfection, but — enabled to exercise themselves, and to expand like the foliage and flowers of a plant ; and especially in which that characteristic of our species, the tendency towards progressive improvement, is permitted to come into play.
If, however, Man is not to be reckoned in a perfectly natural state when he has acquired anything from others, then, even the savage would not answer to the definition ; since language, we
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 31
all know, is a thing learnt ; and a child brought up (as it is supposed some have been, who were lost, or purposely exposed in infancy) by a wild goat, or some other brute, and without any intercourse with human creatures, would grow up speech- less ; as we know those do who, being deaf-born, are precluded from learning to speak. Now hardly any one would call dumb- ness the natural state of Man.
The savage, then, is only so far in (comparatively) a state of nature, that the arts which he learns and transmits to his children are very few, and very rude. And yet it is remark- able that in many respects savage life is decidedly more artificial — more anti-natural — than the civilised. The most elaborately dressed fine lady or gentleman has departed far less from nature, than a savage of most of the rudest tribes we know of. Most of these not only paint their skins with a variety of fantastic colours, but tattoo them, or decorate their bodies (which is the New Hollander's practice) with rows of large artificial scars. The marriage ceremony among some of these tribes is marked, not by putting a ring on the woman's finger, but by cutting off one of the joints of it. And in those same tribes, every male, when approaching man's estate, is formally admitted as coming of age, by the ceremony of having one of his front teeth knocked out. Some of them wear a long orna- ment of bone thrust through the middle cartilage of the nose, so as to make the speech indistinct. Other tribes cut a slit in the under lip, so as to make a sort of artificial second mouth, in which they fix some kind of fantastic ornament. And some tribes, again, artificially flatten, by pressure, the forehead of their infants, so as to bring the head even nearer than nature has formed it, to a resemblance to that of a brute.
And their customs are not less artificial than their external decorations. To take only one instance out of many : marriage, among the most civilised nations of Europe, usually takes place between persons who, living in the same society, and becoming well-acquainted, contract a mutual liking for each other ; and surely this is the most natural course: but among the Aus-
32 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.
tralian savages, such a marriage is unheard of, and would be counted an abomination; a wife must always be taken, and taken by force, from another, — generally a hostile tribe ; and the intended bride must be dragged away with brutal violence and most unmerciful blows.
Such is Man in what is called a state of nature !
I have given a very brief and slight sketch of the differences between the savage and the civilised condition ; but sufficient, I trust, for the present purpose. Those who may wish to investigate the subject more fully, may find much interesting and curious information on it, in a little book (written at my suggestion) by the late Dr. Cooke Taylor, entitled The Natural History of Society. What I have now been saying was designed merely as a necessary introduction to the great and interesting inquiry, How ivas civilisation originally intro- duced? Were the earliest generations of mankind savages? And if so, how came any of our race ever to rise above that condition ?
It has been very commonly taken for granted, not only by writers among the ancient heathen, but by modern authors, that the savage state was the original one, and that mankind, or some portion of mankind, gradually raised themselves from it by the unaided exercise of their own faculties. I say u taken for granted," because one does not usually meet with any attempt to establish this by proof, or even any distinct statement of it ; but it is assumed, as something about which there can be no manner of doubt. You may hear plausible descriptions given of a supposed race of savages subsisting on wild fruits, herbs, and roots, and on the precarious supplies of hunting and fish- ing ; and then, of the supposed process by which they emerged from this state, and gradually invented the various arts of life, till they became a decidedly civilised people. One man, it has been supposed, wishing to save himself the trouble of roaming through the woods in search of wild fruits and roots, would bethink himself of collecting the seeds of these, and cultivating them in a plot of ground cleared and broken up for the purpose.
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 33
And finding that he could thus raise more than enough for him- self, he might agree with some of his neighbours to exchange a part of his produce for some of the game or fish taken by them. Another man again, it has been supposed, would contrive to save himself the labour and uncertainty of hunting, by catching some kinds of wild animals alive, and keeping them in an enclosure to breed, that he might have a supply always at hand. And again others, it is supposed, might devote themselves to the occupation of dressing skins for clothing, or of building huts or canoesr or of making bows and arrows, or various kinds of tools ; each exchanging his productions with his neighbours for food. And each, by devoting his attention to some one kind of manufacture, would acquire increased skill in that, and would strike out new inventions.
And thus these supposed savages, having in this way become divided into husbandmen t shepherds, and artisans of several kinds, would begin to enjoy the various advantages of a " division of labour,'* and would advance, step by step, in all the arts of civilised life.
Such descriptions as the above, of what it is supposed has actually taken place, or of what possibly might take place, are likely to appear plausible, at the first glance, to those who do not inquire carefully and reflect attentively. But, on exami- nation, all these suppositions will be found to be completely at variance with all history, and inconsistent with the character of such Beings as real savages actually are. Such a process of inventions and improvements as that just described is what we may safely say never did, and never possibly can, take place in any tribe of savages left wholly to themselves.
As for the ancient Germans, and the Britons and Gauls, all of whom we have pretty full accounts of in the works of Caesar and of Tacitus, they did indeed fall considerably short, in civilisation, of the Greeks and Romans, who were accustomed to comprehend under the one sweeping term of "barbarians" all nations except themselves. But it would be absurd to reckon as savages, nations which, according to the authors w. e. D
34 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. ii.
just mentioned, cultivated their land, kept cattle, employed horses in their wars, and made use of metals for their weapons and other instruments. A people so far advanced as that, would not be unlikely, under favourable circumstances, to advance further still, and to attain, step by step, to a high degree of civilisation.
But as for savages properly so styled — that is, people sunk as low, or anything near as low, as many tribes that our voyagers have made us acquainted with — there is no one instance recorded of any of them rising into a civilised con- dition, or, indeed, rising at all, without instruction and assist- ance from people already civilised. We have numerous ac- counts of various savage tribes, in different parts of the globe — in hot countries and in cold, in fertile and in barren, in maritime and in inland situations — who have been visited from time to time, at considerable intervals, by navigators, but have had no settled intercourse with civilised people ; and all of them appear to have continued, from age to age, in the same rude condition. Of the savages of Tierra del Fuego, for instance, it is remarked by Mr. Darwin, the naturalist (who was in the " Beagle" on its second voyage of discovery), that they, " in one respect, resemble the brute animals, inas- much as they make no improvements." As birds, for instance, which have an instinct for building nests, build them, each species, just as at first, after countless generations ; so it is, says he, with these people. " Their canoe, which is their most skilful work of art — and a wretched canoe it is — is exactly the same as 250 years ago." The New Zealanders, again, whom Tasman first discovered in 1642, and who were visited for the second time by Cook, 127 years after, were found by him exactly in the same condition. And yet these last were very far from being in as low a state as the New Hollanders ; for they cultivated the ground, raising crops of the Cumera (or sweet potato), and clothed themselves, not with skins, but with mats woven by themselves. Subsequently, the country has, as you are aware, been made a British
lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 35
colony ; and though their first intercourse with European settlers was under the most unfavourable circumstances — many of those who first came among them being most worthless characters, who were often engaged in bloody contests with them — still the result has been that they have renounced can- nibalism, and the greater part of them have become Christians, reading the Bible in their own language, and fast adopting European habits. Their own language, the Maori (that is their own name of their nation), most of them can read and write. And, besides the Bible, several little popular tracts of mine have been translated into it, under the superintendence of the late Governor, Sir George Grey, and ai*e, he tells me, eagerly read by them.
Then again, if we look to ancient historical records and traditions concerning nations that are reported to have risen from a savage to a civilised state, we find that in every instance they appear to have had the advantage of the instruction and example of civilised men living among them. They always have some tradition of some foreigner, or some Being from heaven, as having first taught them the arts of life. Thus, the ancient Greeks attributed to Prometheus, a supposed super- human Being, the introduction of the use of fire ; and they represented Triptolemus, and Cadmus, and others, strangers from a distant country, as introducing agriculture and other arts. The Peruvians, again, have a like tradition respecting a person they call Mancocapac, whom they represent as the offspring of the sun, and as having taught useful arts to their ancestors. If it be true, as I have heard, that the name signifies in the Peruvian language " white," it is not unlikely that he was a European, and that the fable of his descent from the sun may have arisen from his pointing to the sun-rising — the east — to indicate the country he came from.
But there is no need to inquire, even if we could do so with any hope of success, what mixture there may be of truth and fable in any of these traditions. For our present purpose it is enough to have pointed out that they all agree in one
d3
36 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LECt. it.
thing, in representing civilisation as having been introduced (whenever it has been introduced) not from within, but from without.
We have, therefore, in this case all the proof that a nega- tive admits of. In all the few instances in which there is any record or tradition of a savage people becoming civilised, we have a corresponding record or tradition of their having been aided by instructors; and in all the (very numerous) cases we know of in which savages have been left to themselves, they appear never to have advanced one step. The experi- ment, as it may be called, has been going on in various regions for many ages ; and it appears to have never once succeeded.
Perhaps the fanciful and pleasing picture of savages raising themselves into civilisation, which I just now put before you, may appear so natural, that you may be disposed to wonder why it should apparently have never been realised. When you try to fancy yourself in the situation of a savage, it may perhaps occur to you that you would set your mind to work to contrive means for bettering your condition, and that you might hit upon such and such useful and very obvious contri- vances: and hence you may be led to think it natural that savages should do so, and that some tribes of them may have advanced themselves in the way above described, without any external help. But what leads some persons to fancy this possible (though it appears to have never really occurred) is, that they themselves are not savages, but have some degree of mental cultivation, and some of the habits of thought of civilised men. And they imagine themselves merely destitute of the knowledge of some things which they actually know; but they cannot succeed in divesting themselves, in imagination, of the civilised character. And hence they form to themselves an incorrect notion of what a savage really is; just as a person possessed of eyesight finds it difficult to understand correctly the condition of one born blind.
Any one can easily judge, by simply shutting his eyes,
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 37
or going into a dark room, what it is to be blind ; and thence he may be led to suppose that he understands — which is a far different thing — what it is to have been always blind.
When Bishop Berkeley demonstrated by mathematical reasoning that a person born blind and acquiring sight (of which, at that time, there was no actual instance),, would not be able at first to distinguish by the eye the most dissimilar objects — such as a cube and a globe — which he had been accustomed to handle, he was considered as maintaining a great paradox. Afterwards, when the operation of couching for cataract had been successfully performed on a youth born blind, the Bishop's demonstration was confirmed by the trial. It was a considerable time before the lad could learn to distin- guish, without handling, the dog and the cat, with which he had long been familiar.
Now, the difficulty we have in fully understanding the con- dition of one born blind, is similar to that of a civilised man in representing to himself correctly the character of those wholly uncivilised. Persons, however, who have actually seen much of real savages, have observed that they are not only feeble in mental powers, but also sluggish in the use of such powers as they have, except when urged by pressing want. When not thus urged, they pass their time in torpid inactivity, or else in dancing, and various childish sports, or in decorating their bodies with paint and with feathers, flowers,, and shells. They are not only brutishly stupid, but still more characterised by childish thoughtlessness and improvidence; so that it never occurs to them to reflect how they may put themselves in a better condition a year or two hence. The New Hollanders, for instance, roam about the woods and plains in search of some few eatable roots which their country produces, and which they laboriously dig up with sharpened sticks. But though they are often half-starved, and though they have to expend as much toil for three or four scanty meals of these roots as would suffice for breaking up and planting a piece of ground that would supply them for a year, it has never occurred to them to attempt culti-
38
ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION.
[LECT. II.
vating these roots ; no, not even when they have been near enough to the settlers to see the operations of agriculture going on.
For, savages not only seem never to devise anything spon- taneously, but moreover, the very lowest of them are so indocile, that even when they do come within reach of the influence of civilised men, it requires much skill, and very great patience, and a considerable length of time, to bring them to avail them- selves of the examples and instruction put before them. Defoe, in his Robinson Crusoe, though he does represent the Brazilian savages as just such ignorant and ferocious Beings as they really are, attributes to them a docility and an intelligence far beyond the reality. He commits the mistake I was just now adverting to, of representing the savage as wanting merely the knowledge that is possessed by civilised men, and as not deficient in the civilised character. And, accordingly, Crusoe's man Friday, and the other savages who are brought among the Europeans, are represented as receiving civilisation far more speedily and far more completely than the actual Brazilian savages, or any others like them, ever have done, in the first generation.
The original condition of those savages was lower than that of the New Zealanders ; and yet he has allotted hardly so many months for their civilisation as it took years to bring the New Zealanders, under the most careful and laborious training, up to the same point. If Defoe had represented his savages with the stupidity, indocility, and inattention, which really characterise such races, and had, accordingly, made their advancement far slower, and more imperfect, than he has, he would have been more true to nature, but would probably have appeared to most readers less natural than he does ; because most readers have formed precisely the same erroneous conception of the savage character, as himself1.
1 A few years ago, some tales ac- quired considerable popularity, of which the scenes were laid in Ireland, and in the West Indies. The descriptions were
vivid and striking, and the stories well got up. And though the representations given were perceived, by those really acquainted with those countries re-
lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 89
Since it appears, then, a complete moral certainty that men left unassisted in what is called a state of nature, — that is, with the faculties Man is born with not at all unfolded or exercised by education, — never did, and never can, raise themselves from that condition : the question next arising is, When and how did civilisation first originate ? How comes it that the whole world is not peopled exclusively with savages ?
Such would evidently have been the case if the human race had always from the first been left without any instruction from some superior Being, and yet had been able to subsist at all. But there is strong reason to doubt whether even this bare sub- sistence would have been possible. It is most likely that the first generation would all have perished for want of that scanty knowledge, and those few rude arts which even savages possess, and which probably did not originate with them (for savages seem never to discover or invent anything), but are remnants which they have retained from a more civilised state. The knowledge, for instance, of wholesome and of poisonous roots and fruits, the arts of making fish-hooks and nets, bows and arrows, or darts, and snares for wild animals, and of construct- ing rude huts and canoes, with tools made of sharp stones, and some other such simple arts, are possessed more or less by all savages ; and are necessary to enable them to support life. And men left wholly untaught would probably all perish before they could acquire for themselves this absolutely indispensable knowledge.
For, Man, we should remember, is, when left wholly un- taught, far less fitted for supporting and taking care of himself than the brutes. These are far better provided both with instincts and with bodily organs, for supplying their own wants.
spectively, to be as wide of the reality as tbe figures of lions and elephants on Chinese porcelain, this formed no ob-
eeptions. And a really eorreet repre- sentation would probably have been less approved than the one given. The " live
jection to ninety-nine hundredths of the pig" — according to the well-known Fa- readers, who were as ignorant of the j ble — would have been judged by the true state of things as the writer, and I audience to squeak less naturally than had probably formed similar miscon- ' the imitator.
40 ON THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [lect. n.
For instance, those animals that have occasion to dig either for food, or to make burrows for shelter, such as the swine, the mole, the hedgehog, and the rabbit, have, both an instinct for digging, and also snouts or paws far better adapted for that purpose than Man's hands. Yet Man is enabled to turn up the ground much better than any brute; but then, this is by the use of spades and other tools, which Man can learn to make and use, while brutes cannot.
Again, birds and bees have an instinct for building such nests and cells as 'answer their purpose as well as the most commodious houses and beds made by men ; but Man has no instinct that teaches him how to construct these.
Brutes, again, know by instinct their proper food, and avoid what is unwholesome ; but Man has no instinct for dis- tinguishing from wholesome fruits the berry of the deadly- nightshade, with which children have often been poisoned, as it has no ill smell, and tastes sweet. And, again, almost all quadrupeds swim by nature, because their swimming is the same motion by which they walk on land ; but a man falling into deep water is drowned, unless he has learnt to swim, by an action quite different from that of his walking.
It is very doubtful, therefore (to say the least), whether men left wholly untaught would be able to subsist at all, even in the condition of the very lowest savages. But at any rate it is plain they could never have risen above that state. If it be supposed — and this is one of the many bold conjectures that have been thrown out — that Man was formerly endowed with many instincts such as those of the brute creation, which instincts were afterwards obliterated and lost through civilisa- tion, then the human race might have subsisted in the savage state ; but we should all have been savages to this day. How comes it, then, that all mankind are not at this day as wild as the Pupuans and Hottentot-Bushmen ? According to the pre- sent course of things, the first introducer of civilisation among savages, is, and must be, Man in a more improved state ; in the beginning, therefore, of the human race, this, since there
lect. ii.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 41
was no man to effect it, must have been the work of another Being. There must have been, in short, something of a revelation made, to the first, or to some subsequent generation, of our species. And this miracle (for such it clearly is, being out of the present course of nature) is attested independently of Scripture, and consequently in confirmation of the Scripture-accounts, by the fact that civilised Man exists at the present day. Each one of us Europeans, whether Christian, Deist, or Atheist, is actually a portion of a standing monument of a former communication to mankind from some superhuman Beino;. That Man could not have made himself, is often appealed to as a proof of the agency of a divine Creator ; and that mankind could not, in the first instance, have civilised themselves, is a proof of the same kind, and of precisely equal strength, of the agency of a divine Instructor.
It will have occurred to you, no doubt, that the conclusions we have arrived at, agree precisely with what is recorded in the oldest book extant. The Book of Genesis represents man- kind as originally existing in a condition which, though far from being highly civilised, was very far removed from that of savages. It describes Man as not having been, like the brutes, left to provide for himself by his innate bodily and mental faculties, but as having received at first some immediate divine communications and instructions. And so early, accord- ing to this record, was the division of labour, that, of the first two men who were born of woman, one is described as a tiller of the ground, and the other as a keeper of cattle. But I have been careful, as you must have observed, to avoid appealing, in the outset, to the Bible as an authority, because I have thought it important to show, independently of that authority, and from a monument actually before our eyes, — the existence of civilised Man — that there is no escaping such conclusions as agree with the Bible narrative. There are at the present day, philosophers, so-called, some of whom make boastful pre- tensions to science, and undertake to trace the Vestiges of Creation ; and some who assume that no miracle can ever have
42 ON THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [Mcx. n.
taken place, and that the idea of what they call a " book- revelation " is an absurdity ; and these you cannot meet by an appeal to our Scriptures. But if you call upon them to show how the existing state of things can have come about without a miracle and without a revelation, you will find them (as I can assert from experience) greatly at a loss.
It is alleged by one of these philosophers, that " some writers have represented the earliest generations of mankind as in a high state of civilisation ;" and he adds that, " this doctrine has been maintained from a desire to confirm Scrip- ture-history." He does not, however, cite, or refer to any such writers ; and there is reason to think that none such ever existed, and that the whole is a complete mis-statement, either from error of memory, or from some other cause ; for, this at least is certain, that no one could possibly have been led, by a desire of confirming Scripture-history, to attribute high civilisation to the first generations of men ; since this would go to contradict Scripture-history. The author in question, if he is at all acquainted with Scripture- history, must know, that, according to that, mankind were originally in so very humble a degree of civilisation, that even the use of metals appears to have been introduced only in the seventh generation.
But though the earliest generations of mankind were, as has been said, in a condition far short of what can be called <fhigh civilisation," and had received only very limited, and what may be called elementary instruction, enough merely to enable them to make further advances afterwards, by the exercise of their natural powers — some such instruction (we have seen) they must have received, because without it, either the whole race would have perished — which is far the most probable, — or at best, the world would have been peopled at this day with none but the wildest savages. For, all experience proves that men left in the lowest, or even anything approach- ing to the lowest, degree of barbarism in which they can possibly subsist at all, never did and never can raise them- selves, unaided, into a higher condition. But when men have
lect. u.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 43
once reached a certain stage in the advance towards civilisation, it is then possible for thern (under favourable circumstances, and if wars or other calamities do not occur to keep them back) to advance further and further in the same direction. Human society, in short, may be compared to some combustible substances which will never take fire spontaneously, but when once set on fire, will burn with continually increasing strength. A community of men requires, as it were, to be kindled, and requires no more.
In this, as in many other matters, it is the first step that is the difficulty. Though it maybe in itself but a small step, and one which wrould be easy if it were the second and not the first, its being the first makes it both the most important and the most difficult.
Although I wish to rest my conclusions, not on the authority of other writers, but on well-established facts and conclusive arguments, I think it will not be out of place to advert to the opinions of some authors of high repute, whose viewTs on the subject I had no knowledge of when mine were first formed.
" The important question," says the celebrated Humboldt, " has not yet been resolved, whether that savage state, which even in America is found in various gradations, is to be looked upon as the dawTning of a society about to rise, or whether it is not rather the fading remains of one sinking amidst storms, overthrown and shattered by overwhelming catastrophes. To me the latter seems to be nearer the truth than the former."
The famous historian Niebhur also is recorded (not in any publication of his own, but in published reminiscences of his conversation with a friend) to have strongly expressed his full conviction that all savages are the degenerated remnants of more civilised races, which had been overpowered by enemies, and driven to take refuge in woods (whence the name " silvag- gio," savage), and there to wander, seeking a precarious sub- sistence, till they had forgotten most of the arts of settled life, and sunk into a wild state.
44 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.
It is remarkable, however, that neither of these eminent men seem to have thought of the inference, though they were within one step of it, that the first beginnings of civilisation must have come from a superhuman instructor.
Not so, however, President Smith, of the College of New Jersey, United States. In an Essay on the diversity of the Human Species, after saying that the savage state cannot have been that of the earliest generations, and that such a supposi- tion is contrary to sound reason and to all history, he expresses his conviction not only that savage tribes have degenerated from more civilised, but that life, even in the savage state, could not have been preserved, if the first generation had been wholly untaught. " Hardly is it possible," says he, " that Man placed on the surface of the world, in the midst of its forests and marshes, capable of reason indeed, but without having formed principles to direct its exercise, should have been able to pre- serve his existence, unless he had received from his Creator, along with his being, some instructions concerning the employ- ment of his faculties, for procuring his subsistence and invent- ing the most necessary arts of life. . . . Nature has furnished the inferior animals with many and powerful instincts to direct them in the choice of their food, &c. But Man must have been the most forlorn of all creatures ; cast out,
as an orphan of nature, naked and helpless, he must have perished before he could have learned to supply his most im- mediate and urgent wants."
The views of President Smith coincide, you will perceive, very closely with those put forth by me ; though I never heard of his work till long after.
But these views are, as you may suppose, very unacceptable to certain classes of writers. And they have accordingly made vehement but fruitless efforts to evade the force of the argu- ments adduced. They contend against what they call the theory maintained, and set themselves to meet the arguments which prove it unlikely that savages should civilise themselves; but they can not get over the fact, that savages never have done
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 45
so. Now, that they never can, is a theory ; and something may always be said — "well or ill — against any theory, whether sound or unsound ; but facts are stubborn things : and that no authen- ticated instance can be produced of savages that ever did emerge, unaided, from that state, is no theory ; but a statement, hitherto never disproved, of a matter of fact.
It has been urged, among other things, that no art can be pointed out which Man may not by his "natural powers have in- vented. Now, no one, as far as I know, ever maintained that there is any such art. I myself believe there is none that Man may not have invented, supposing him to have a certain degree of mental cultivation to start from. But as for any art — much less all the arts — being invented by savages, none of whom can be proved to have ever invented anything, that is quite a dif- ferent question. The fallacy here employed, which is called in logical language the " Fallacy of Composition," consists in taking a term first in the divided sense, and then in the col- lective sense. This art, and that, and the other, &c. — each taken separately — is not beyond the power of Man to invent : all the arts are this, that, and the other, &c. taken collectively : therefore, all may have been originally invented by unaided Man. In like manner, there is no one angle and no one side of a triangle that may not be discovered if we have certain data to start from. Given, two sides and the contained angle, we can ascertain the remaining side and the other angles. Or again, if we know one side and two angles, we can discover the rest. But it would be a new sort of trigonometry that could discover all the three angles and three sides without any data at all.
One other of the arguments — so called — in disproof of the possibility of Man's having ever received any communications from a Superior Being, I will notice, merely to show what des- perate straits our opponents are reduced to. A writer in the Westminster Review assumes, on very insufficient grounds, from a passage in the book of Chronicles, that the Jews in Solomon's time supposed the diameter of a circle to be exactly one-third of the circumference, instead of being, as it is, rather
46 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LEct. 11.
less than seven twenty-firsts, though more than seven twenty- seconds. I say on " insufficient grounds " does he infer this ignorance, because it might just as well be inferred that every one who speaks of the sun's setting, supposes that the sun actually moves round the earth ; and that when we speak of a road laid down in a straight line from one town to another, we must be ignorant that the earth is a sphere, and that conse- quently there cannot be a perfectly straight line on its surface. But let this pass. The inference drawn is, that, since the Jews had so imperfect a knowledge of mathematics, therefore, mankind could never have received from above, any instruction whatever, even in the simplest arts of life ; and that, consequently, all civilised nations must have risen to that condition unaided, from the state of the lowest savages ; though all history, and all our experience of what takes place at the present day, attests the contrary ! Now when a writer, evidently not destitute of in- telligence, is driven to argue in this manner, you may judge how hard pressed he must feel himself.
I was conversing once on the present subject with an intelli- gent person, a great student of phrenology, who was inclined to attribute the stationary condition of savages to their defective cerebral development, and to conjecture that a number of people with well-formed brain, might, without any instruction, acquire the arts of life, and civilise themselves.
Now there is, indeed, no doubt that the very lowest savage tribes — such as the Pupuans and Fuegians — have a very de- fective formation of head ; but this I was disposed to regard as the effect, not the cause, of their having lived in a wild state for a vast many generations. For, the cerebral organs, — as my friend himself fully admitted, — are, like other parts of the body, developed and strengthened by being exercised, and impaired and shrunk by inactivity. But some tribes, I remarked to him, who are considerably above the very rudest of all (as for in- stance the New Zealanders), have a conformation of head little if at all inferior to the European ; and yet the New Zealanders, though they accordingly have proved incomparably more docile,
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 47
and capable of advancement, than the more degraded races, were, nevertheless (as we have seen), incapable, when left to themselves, of advancing a single step. And this instance he was compelled to admit as decisive.
Among the many random guesses that have been thrown out on this subject, one that I have heard is, that perhaps there may have been two races, — two distinct Varieties, or rather two widely different Species, of Man ; the one capable of self-civili- sation, the other, not, though capable of being taught. This is a sufficiently bold conjecture, being not supported by any par- ticle of evidence; .and yet, after all, it answers no purpose. For, this wonderful endowment, the self-civilising power, if ever it were bestowed on any portion of mankind, seems to have been bestowed in vain, and never to have been called into play ; since, as far as we can learn, no savage tribe does appear, in point of fact, to have ever civilised themselves.
Of late years, however, an attempt has been made to revive Lamarck's theory of development. He was a French naturalist who maintained the spontaneous transition of one Species into another of a higher character ; the lowest animalcules having, it seems, in many generations ripened into fish, thence into reptiles, beasts, and men. And it is truly wonderful what a degree of popularity has been attained by this theory, consider- ing that it is supported altogether by groundless conjectures, mis-statements of facts, and inconclusive reasoning. But its advocates found it necessary to assail somehow or other the position I have been maintaining, which is fatal to their whole scheme. The view we have taken of the condition of savages " breaks the water-pitcher " (as the Greek proverb expresses it) " at the very threshold." Supposing the animalcule safely con- ducted, by a series of bold conjectures, through the several transmutations, till from an ape it became a man, there is, as we have seen, a failure at the last stage of all ; — an insurmount- able difficulty in the final step from the savage to the civilised man.
It became necessary, therefore, to accept the challenge pro-
48 OX THE ORIGIN OP CIVILISATION. [lect. n.
posed, and to find a race of savages who had, unassisted, civilised themselves ; and the case produced was that of a tribe of North Americans called the Mandans. These are described in a work by Mr. Catlin, who visited them, as living in a walled town, instead of the open defenceless hamlets of the other tribes, and as exercising some arts unknown to their more barbarian neigh- bours. These latter, not long ago, fell upon them when greatly thinned by the ravages of the small-pox, and totally extirpated the small remnant of the tribe.
Now, when this case was brought forward, one naturally expected that some proof would be attempted — (1), that these Mandans had been in as savage a condition as the neighbouring tribes ; and (2), that they had, unaided, raised themselves from it. But all this, which is the only point at issue, instead of being proved, is coolly taken for granted. Not the least attempt is made to prove that the Mandans are originally of the same race with their neighbouring tribes. It is simply taken for granted ; though Mr. Catlin himself, who was intimately acquainted with both, gives strong reasons for the contrary opinion. No proof, again, is offered that they ever were in as rude a condition as those other tribes; it is coolly assumed. No proof is offered that their ancestors never received any in- struction, at a remote period, from European or other strangers ; it is merely taken for granted. And this procedure is boast- fully put forward as " Science !" The science which consists in simply legging the question, is certainly neither Aristotelian nor Baconian Science.
But in an article in the Edinburgh Meview, on Mr. Catlin's book, we are told that the more advanced condition of these Mandans is to be attributed to their living in a fortified town, by which means they enjoyed leisure and security for cultivating the arts of peace. Now, if they had chanced to light on a spot fortified naturally, by steep precipices, or the like, the cause assigned would at least have been something intelligible. But the wall which fortified the city of these Mandans was built (which the critic seems to have forgotten)
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 49
by. themselves. And when we are gravely told that it is a very easy thing for the wildest savages to civilise themselves and learn the arts of life, for, that they have only to begin by build- ing themselves a to ell -fortified totmi, it is impossible to avoid being reminded of the trick by which little children are deluded, who are told that they can easily catch a bird if they do but put salt on its tail.
But reviewers, being for the most part secure from being themselves reviewed, sometimes put forward such statements and such arguments as they would unmercifully criticise if appearing in the work of any other author. Suppose, for in- stance, some author maintaining that the intellectual culture of the Europeans is to be traced entirely to their having access to Libraries arid Museums ; you may imagine with what unsparing ridicule he would be visited by the reviewers, who would remind him, that though Libraries and Museums do certainly con- tribute greatly to a nation's enlightenment, yet, as they do not fall from the sky, but are the work of the very people them, selves, such a people must have something of intellectual culture to begin with, and cannot owe every thing to what they have themselves produced. Or again, suppose a people of remarkably cleanly habits to be living in the midst of tribes that were abominably filthy, what would be thought of a person who should say, " their superior cleanliness may be accounted for by their use of soap?" Soap is, no doubt, a great purifier ; but if they had been originally quite careless of cleanliness, how came they to think of making and using soap ?
These Mandans, however, says the reviewer, were driven by " necessity" to fortify themselves, in order to protect themselves from the neighbouring hostile tribes. But necessity is not " the mother of invention" except to those who have some degree of thoughtfulness and intelligence. To the mere savage she rarely if ever teaches anything. And of this there cannot be a stronger proof than that which the reviewer had, as it were, just before his eyes, and yet overlooked. He forgot that those other tribes, generally at war with each other, and therefore w. e. E
50 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. ii.
pressed by the very same necessity, yet continued to dwell in open villages, where they are accordingly from time to time surprised or overpowered by their enemies, and have never thought of fortifying themselves ; no, not when they had before their eyes the example of the Man dans, which they had not the sense to copy !
It appears, then, that all the attempts made to assail our position have served only to furnish fresh and fresh proofs that it is perfectly impregnable. That some communication to Man from a Superior Being — in other words, some kind of Revela- tion— must at some time or other have taken place, is estab- lished, independently of all historical documents, in the Bible or elsewhere, by a standing monument which is before our eyes, the existence of civilised man at this day.
And the establishing of this is the most complete discom- fiture of the adversaries of our religion, because it cuts away the ground from under their feet. For, you will hardly meet with any one who admits that there has been some distinct Revelation, properly so called, given to Man, and yet denies that that revelation is to be found in our Bible. On the con- trary, all who deny the divine authority of the Bible, almost always set out with assuming, or attempting to prove, the abstract impossibility of any revelation whatever or any miracle, in the ordinary sense of these words ; and then it is that they proceed to muster their objections against Christianity in par- ticular. But I trust you have seen that we may advance and meet them at once in the open field, and overthrow them at the first step, before they approach our citadel; by proving that what they set out with denying is what must have taken place, and that they are, in their own persons, a portion of the monument of its occurrence. And the establishing of this, as it takes away the very ground first occupied by the opponents of our Faith, so it is an important preliminary step for our pro- ceeding, in the next place, to the particular evidence for that faith. Once fully convinced that God must at some time or other have made some direct communication to Man, and that
lect. it.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 51
even those who dislike this conclusion strive in vain to escape it, we are thus the better prepared for duly estimating the proofs that the Gospel is in truth a divine message.
It is not, however, solely, or even chiefly, for the sake of furnishing a refutation of objectors, in case you should ever chance to meet with any, or even of satisfying doubters, that I have put these views before you ; though no one can think this an unimportant matter who remembers that we are solemnly charged to be " always ready to give to every one that asketh us a reason for the hope that is in us ;" but beyond this, it must be both highly useful and highly gratifying to a rightly- minded Christian to contemplate and dwell upon all the many marks of truth stamped on a Revelation which he not only acknowledges, but deeply venerates and heartily loves.
It may, therefore, seem, to some persons, strange that any kind of apology should be offered for calling attention to an important evidence of Christianity. But certain it is that there are not a few Christians who consider that there is the more virtue in their faith the less rational ground they have for it, and the less they inquire for any. They acknowledge, indeed, the necessity, for the conversion of pagans and the refutation of infidels, of being prepared to offer some proofs of the truth of our religion. But while they acknowledge this necessity, they lament it ; because it appears to them that to offer proof of anything is to admit it to be doubtful ; and to produce answers to objections, implies listening to objections ; which is painful to their feelings. They wish, therefore, that all those who actually are believers in what they have been told, simply because they have been told it, should be left in that state of tranquil acquiescence, without having their minds le unsettled " (that is the phrase employed) by any attempt to give them reasons for being convinced of that which they are already convinced of, or at least have carelessly assented to. And with respect to Ireland in particular, I have known both Roman Catholics and Protestants allege, that though in England there may be need to take some precautions against
E 3
52 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [LEct. n.
infidelity, in this country no such thing exists, nor is there any danger of its appearing. Those who spoke so must have either been very ignorant of the real state of things, or must have calculated on their hearers being so. But even supposing such were the fact, it surely is doing no great honour to our religion, to prefer that it should be believed exactly on the same grounds that the Hindu and Chinese Pagans believe in the abominable absurdities of their mythology, which they embrace without inquiry and without hesitation, simply as being the religion of their fathers. It is not thus that men proceed in other matters. If, for instance, there is some illustrious Statesman or General whom they greatly admire, they are never weary of inquiring for, and listening to, fresh and fresh details of his exploits, of the difficulties he has surmounted, and the enter- prises in which he has succeeded ; which are all so many proofs of his superior wisdom and energy ; proofs not needed to satisfy any doubts in their minds, but which yet they delight to bring forward and contemplate, on account of the very admiration they feel. So, also, they delight to mark and dwell on the con- stantly recurring proofs of the excellent and amiable qualities of some highly valued friend; to observe the contrast his character presents to that of vain pretenders ; and how every attempt of enemies to blemish his reputation serves only to make his virtues the more conspicuous.
Should it not then be also delightful to a sincere Christian to mark, in like manner, the numberless proofs which present themselves, that the religion he professes is not from Man but from God, — to note the contrast it presents to all false religions devised by human folly or cunning,— and to observe how all attempts to shake the evidence of it, tend, sooner or later, to confirm it ?
But there are some who go a great deal further than those I have just been alluding to. There are persons professing to believe in Christianity, and to be anxious for its support, who deprecate altogether any appeal to evidence for it, as likely to lead not to conviction, but to doubt or disbelief. A writer
lect. ii. ] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 53
for instance, in a Periodical now dropped, but which had a great circulation among a certain party, and seems to have exercised no small influence, maintains distinctly, and with great vehemence, that our (i belief ought to rest not on argu- ment, but on faith ;" that is, on itself: and that an ignorant clown who believes what he is told, simply because he is told it, (which is precisely the foundation of the belief of the ancient heathens who worshipped the great goddess Diana, and of the Hindu idolaters of the present day,) has a " far better ground for his faith than anything that has ever been produced by such authors as Grotius, and Paley, and Sumner, and Chalmers ;" that is, that the reasons which have convinced the most intelligent minds, are inferior to that which is confessedly and notoriously good for nothing !
A writer, again, in another Periodical, deprecates and de- rides all appeal to evidence in support of our faith, and censure3 Baxter (whose life he was reviewing) for having written on the subject, because the result, he assures us, will be li either our yielding a credulous and therefore infirm assent, or reposing in a self-sufficient and far more hazardous incredulity." And he remarks, that the sacred writers " have none of the timidity of their modern apologists, but authoritatively denounce unbelief as guilt, and insist on faith as a virtue of the highest order.', The faith, according to him, which the Apostles insisted on, was belief without any grounds for it being set forth. Had it been so, we should never have heard of Christianity at this day ; for men could not have been bullied by mere authoritative denunciations of guilt — coming from a few Jewish fishermen and peasants, and resting on their bare word — into renouncing the religion of their ancestors, in defiance of all the persecutions of all their rulers and neighbours.
Timid, however, and credulous, according to the peculiar language of this writer, the apostles and their converts certainly were, since he uses these words to denote exactly the opposite of what every one else understands by them. A person is usually called {l credulous," not for believing something for
54 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lecx. ii.
good reasons, but, on the contrary, for believing without evi- dence, or against evidence. And those are generally considered as " timorous " who shrink from inquiry, and deprecate as " hazardous " all appeal to evidence ; not those who boldly court inquiry and bring forward strong reasons, which they challenge every one either to admit or to answer, or else to stand convicted of perversity.
And this is what our Lord and his Apostles did. They do, indeed, inculcate faith as a virtue, and denounce unbelief as sin; but on what grounds do they so? Because, says our Lord, " if I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin;" because the Apostles appealed to the resurrection of Jesus, of which they were eye witnesses, and to the " many infallible proofs " — the " signs of an Apostle," as they called them — consisting of the miracles wrought by themselves ; and because they made un- answerable appeals to the ancient prophecies, " proving by the Scriptures that Jesus is the Christ."
To maintain, in the face of the whole New-Testament-his- tory, which is in most people's hands, and which many know almost by heart, that the Apostles demanded faith without offer- ing any reason for it, is an instance of audacity quite astonish- ing. And not less wonderful is it that any rational Being should be found, who can imagine that men's minds can best be satisfied by proclaiming that inquiry is hazardous. If there were any college, hospital, workhouse, asylum, or other institu- tion, whose managers and patrons assured us that it was well conducted, but that inspection was much to be deprecated, be- cause it would probably lead to the conviction that the institu- tion was full of abuses, I need not say what inference would be drawn.
And when we are told that it shows " timidity'n (of all things ! ) to court investigation, and to defy disproof, we may be reminded of an anecdote told of some British troops, who were acting along with some North American Indians as their allies. When attacked by a hostile force, the Indians, according to
lect. n.] ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 55
custom, ran off and sheltered themselves behind trees, while the British stood firm under a heavy fire, and repulsed the enemy. It was expected that their Indian friends would have admired their superior valour. But their interpretation of the matter was — that the British were too much frightened to run away I They thought them such bad warriors as to have been utterly paralysed by terror, and to have not had sufficient presence of mind .to provide for their safety !
More recently, a writer in another Periodical attributes the infidelity of Gibbon (a life of whom he is reviewing) to his hav- ing studied the Evidences of Christianity ! And he derides with the utmost scorn the extreme folly of those who teach young persons to " give a reason of the hope that is in them," or who even tell them that it is true, or allow them to know that its truth has ever been doubted ; which is a sure way, he maintains, to make them disbelieve it !
Such writers as these must either be themselves marvellously ignorant, or must trust to their readers being so, not only of Scripture, but of all history, ancient and modern. For, no one can read the New Testament (attending at all to the sense of what he reads) without learning that " some believed the things that were spoken by Paul, and some believed not ;" and that this was what took place everywhere, among both Jews and Gentiles. And the like takes place still, and must be known ; since people cannot, in these days, be so completely debarred from all knowledge of history as not to hear of the French at the Revolution abjuring Christianity, and of multi- tudes of their priests professing unbelief.
The passages I have referred to are, I am sorry to say, only a few out of many, and have been noticed merely as specimens. Many more might have been produced, in the same tone, some of them from authors of considerable repute.
It is to be wished that such writers, if they really have that regard for Christianity which they profess, and if they have written as they have, not from insidious design, but from mere ignorance and error of judgment, should, in the first place, read
56 ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. [lect. n.
attentively the New Testament, that they may see how utterly contrary to the fact are all the statements they have made. And, in the next place, I would wish one of these writers to consider what he would think of some professed friend coming forward as his advocate, and saying, " My friend here is a veracious and worthy man, and there is no foundation for any of the charges brought against him ; and his integrity is fully believed in by persons who thoroughly trust him, and who have never thought of examining his character at all, or inquiring into his transactions ; but, of all things, do not make any inves- tigation into his character ; for be assured that the more you examine and inquire, the less likely you will be to be satisfied of his integrity."
No one can doubt what would be thought of such a pre- tended friend. And no reasonable man can fail, on reflection, to perceive that such professed friends of our religion as those I have been speaking of, do more to shake men's faith in it than all the attacks of all the avowed infidels in the world put together.
And next, I would have them look to the deplorable fruits, of various kinds, which their system, of deprecating the use of reason, and thus hiding under a bushel the lamp which Provi- dence has kindly bestowed on Man, has produced, in its unfor- tunate victims. Some, not a few, have listened to the idle tales of crazy enthusiasts, or crafty impostors, who gabbled unmean- ing sounds, which they profanely called the " gift of tongues ;" or who pretended to have discovered in a cave a new book of Scripture, called the "Book of Mormon," and which they as- sure their deluded followers contains a divine revelation. And they are believed (why not ?) by those who have not only never heard of any reason why our Scripture should be received, but have been taught that it is wrong to seek for any, and that they ought to believe whatever they are told.
Others, again, have been strongly assured that Traditions are of equal authority with Scripture; and this they believe because they are earnestly assured of it ; which is the only
lect. n.l ON THE ORIGIN OF CIVILISATION. 57
ground they ever had, or conceive themselves permitted to have, for believing anything.
Others again, when falling in with some infidel, find that he does urge something which at least pretends to be an argument, and that they have^ nothing to urge on the opposite side; and having, moreover, been taught that inquiry is fatal to belief in their religion, they conclude at once that the whole of it is a fable, which even its advocates seem to acknowledge will not bear the test of examination.
Finally, then, I would entreat any1 one of those mistaken ad- vocates I have been speaking of, to imagine himself confronted at the Day of Judgment with some of those misled people, and to consider what answer he would make if these should reproach him with the errors into which they have fallen. Let him con- ceive them saying, " You have, through false and self-devised views of expediency — in professed imitation of the sacred writers, but in real contradiction to their practice, — sent forth us, your weak brethren — made weaker by yourself — as ' sheep among wolves,' provided with the ' harmlessness of the dove,' but not with the ' wisdom of the serpent,' — unfurnished with the arms which God's gifts of Scripture and of Reason would have supplied to us, and purposely left naked to the assaults of various enemies. Our Blood is on your head. You must be accountable for our fall."
POSTSCRIPT.
Concerning the foregoing arguments, there have appeared some very strange mis-statements; indicating (on the most favourable supposition) gross and culpable carelessness. I have been represented as maintaining, or implying, that all the arts of life must have come from a divine revelation. And this doctrine, which is none of mine, has been triumphantly derided. But any reader of the foregoing pages may see that I have dis- tinctly said the very reverse, and have given my reasons for it. Yet I have more than once been called upon to point out any one art that could not have been devised by human ingenuity ; though I never said, or thought, that there is any such. I know of no art but what may have been invented, — and perhaps has, in some instances, been invented, — by unaided men ; but men who had received some little training, sufficient to call forth and exercise, in some degree, their mental powers, and to raise them above the state of mere brutish, improvident, un- thinking savages, such as the Papuans of Andaman, or the Fuegians.
On the unimproved and stationary condition of these last, ■ Mr. Darwin has made a remark which is cited in the foregoing pages. He has indeed been understood to teach that Man may possibly be a descendant of the Ape, and originally, of a Reptile or a Mollusc. But even supposing this possible, there would still remain an insuperable difficulty — which Mr. Darwin seems to have perceived — in the last step of all ; the advance of the unaided savage to civilisation.
It has been hinted, however, that though not even the smallest approach to this self-civilisation appears to have been made in all the Ages that have passed since History began, there is no saying what may not have been done in hundreds o^
POSTSCRIPT. 59
thousands of previous centuries that may have elapsed since Man first rose out of the molluscous state.
Some persons seem to forget the obvious truth (noticed by the late Bishop Copleston)1, that Time is of itself no Agent. Even a very minute effect, produced by some slowly- acting cause, may, in a very long time, amount to something con- siderable. But 000 multiplied by a million, can never amount to a positive quantity.
When we are referred to Time, as producing effects for which there is no other cause, one is reminded of the story that is told of a Turk in Algeria, who had been supplied by a clever French artist with an excellent set of artificial teeth. Having lost an eye, he applied to the same artist for an artificial one. The artist made, and fixed in, a glass eye, which looked very natural. But the Turk complained that he could not see with it at all. " Oh, you must not," said the artist, " expect that at once. You must wait patiently till the eye has got accustomed to the light, and in time, it will see very well."
See Remains of Bishop Copleston.
LECTURE III.
ON INSTINCT1.
There is no particular branch of Natural History upon which I should be as "well qualified to give instruction, or with which I am as well acquainted, as many who are here present. If I were to attempt to instruct either those who had paid much attention to such a study, or again those who were mere begin- ners, in the one case, I should be undertaking to teach those who were greater proficients than myself; in the other, I should probably be a less skilful instructor than they might find in persons more conversant with each particular branch of the subject. But having been called upon to deliver a lecture upon some point connected with Natural History, I consider it would be more suitable in respect to my slender attainments in each particular branch of Natural History, and to the circumstances of the Society, to select a point in which Natural History comes in contact with the Philosophy of the Human Mind, and those metaphysical pursuits to which I have mostly devoted myself.
Besides the intrinsic advantage of directing the attention of my audience to this particular branch of study, another benefit resulting from such a course of inquiry is, to relieve the study of Natural History from some part of the discredit under which, with many, it has laboured, in being considered as a frivolous occupation of the time and faculties of Man; leading him to reflect upon, examine, search into, and ascertain the facts connected with this science, and all for no purpose beyond the mere innocent amusement arising from the study — a study thus represented as conducive in no way to the development of
« This Lecture is printed from a newspaper report, corrected. The subject has been more fully treated of in the LeseonB on Mind.
lect. in.] . ON INSTINCT. 61
the higher faculties of the mind, or to the attainment of any- other benefit to mankind.
The charge does fairly lie against Natural History, thus, and only thus, studied. And the same might be said with regard even to the cultivation of literature. If a man went no farther in literary pursuits than to be a good judge of different editions of books, or the different modes of binding or printing those books, he might make a very useful librarian ; but it could not be said that he had turned literary knowledge to any of the more dignified purposes for which it might be employed. There, no doubt, are such persons ; but it would not therefore be true to regard Literature altogether as merely a Bibliomania — a mere curiosity about rare books, because some have no other than such literature. And equally unfair would it be to pronounce a similar contemptuous censure on Naturalists, because there are some among them who correspond to those librarian-students just alluded to — men who are content to arrange and label, as it were, the volumes of the great Book of Nature, and then forget to peruse them, or peruse them without intelligence, and without profit.
The point which I have chosen as forming a contact between Zoology and the branch of Philosophy which has relation to the human mind, is the subject of INSTINCT. If I or my audience were to estimate the propriety of my taking up the examination of such a subject, from the degree of information from existing books which I could bring to bear upon it, my claim to their attention would be very low indeed. I have found so little of a systematic account of the matter, in all the authors I have ever read, that it struck me it might be desirable to call the attention of the audience to the subject. I shall be occupied rather in proposing questions for consideration, than in answering questions myself. In many subjects it might be objectionable to take this course ; but in this case something may be gained by pointing out to you what to ask, and to what you should direct your inquiries ; though I could not un- dertake to answer the questions wbich I may propose, satis-
62 ON INSTINCT. [lect. m.
factorily to myself. At any rate, if I cannot give you satisfac- tion, I hope I can give you ^satisfaction — that is, I hope I may be able to render you dissatisfied with the extent of your knowledge, by pointing out how much there is to be known, to be studied, and to be inquired into.
A Treatise upon the subject of Animal Instincts is a desideratum. I have seen in many books interesting descrip- tions of different instincts, curiously illustrated by well authen- ticated facts. I have seen minute details of important and interesting characteristics of Instinct. But I never saw any- thing like a philosophic or systematic view of the subject ; nor have I ever heard a distinct and satisfactory answer to the question, "What do you mean by Instinct?" It seems, there- fore, that however far advanced we may be in a Dictionary on the subject of Instinct, a Grammar is a thing very much wanted. It is in general rather implied and supposed, than distinctly laid down, that a Being is acting instinctively when impelled blindly towards some end which the agent does not aim at or perceive ; and on the other hand, that it is acting rationally, when acting with a view to, and for the sake of, some end which it does perceive. But in the ordinary language even of Naturalists, and even when they are describing and recounting instances of remarkable Instincts, we often meet with much that is inconsistent with this view. And when any one says, as many are accustomed to do, that Brutes are actuated by Instinct, and Man by Reason, this language has the appear- ance, at least, of being much at variance with such a view.
When I speak of Animal-instinct, it should be remembered that I include Man. I presume that you have all learned that Man is an Animal; although it is a fact frequently forgotten by many. Man possesses Instinct, though in a lower degree than most other animals ; his inferiority in these being com- pensated by his superiority in other respects. And again : as Man possesses Instinct in a lower degree than the brutes, so, in a lower degree than Man, brutes — at least the higher brutes — possess Beason. As some things felt and done by Man are
lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 63
allowed to be instinctive — as hunger and thirst for instance, are evidently instincts — so many things done by brutes, at least by the higher description of brutes, would be, if done by Man, regarded as resulting from the exercise of Reason — I mean where the actions of the brute spring, to all appearance, from the same impulse as the rational acts of Man.
In many instances we know this is not the case. A man builds a house from Reason — a bird builds a nest from Instinct; and no one would say that the bird, in this, acted from Reason. But in other instances, Man not only does the same things as the brutes, but does them from the same kind of impulse, which should be called instinctive, whether in man or brute. And again, several things are done by brutes, which are evidently not instinctive, but, to all appearance, no less rational than human acts : being not only the same actions, but done from the same impulse. I shall not at present inquire what is called Reason, any more than what is denominated Instinct. I would only say that several things which are allowed by every one to be acts of Reason, when done by a man, are done by brutes manifestly under a similar impulse — I mean such things as brutes learn to do, either by their own unaided experience, or, as taught by Man. Docility is evidently characteristic of Reason. To talk of an elephant, a horse, or a dog doing by Instinct such things as it has been taught, would be as absurd as to talk of a child's learning to read and write by Instinct.
But, moreover, Brutes are, in many instances, capable of learning even what they have not been taught by Man. They have been found able to combine, more or less, the means of accomplishing a certain end, from having learned by experience that such and such means, so applied, would conduce to it. The higher animals of course show more of Reason, than the lower. There are many instances of its existence in domestic animals.
The Dog is regarded as the animal most completely Man's companion ; and I will mention one, out of many specimens of the kind of Reason to which I refer, as exhibited in a dog.
64 ON INSTINCT.
[lect. in.
The incident is upon record, and there seems no ground for doubting it, although it did not come under my own personal observation. This dog being left on the bank of a river by his master, who had gone up the river in a boat, attempted to join him. He plunged into the water, but not making allowance for the strength of the stream, which carried him considerably below the boat, he could not beat up against it. He landed and made allowance for the current of the river, by leaping in at a place higher up. The combined action of the stream, and his swimming, carried him in an oblique direction, and he thus reached the boat. Having made the trial, and failed, he appa- rently judged from the failure of the first attempt, that his course was to go up the stream, make allowance for its strength, and thus gain the boat. I do not vouch for the accuracy of this anecdote ; but I see no grounds for disbelieving it, as it is of a piece with many other recorded instances.
There is another instance of this nature, which did come under my own observation, and is more worthy of being re- corded, because the actor was a Cat — a species of animal which is considered generally very inferior in sagacity to a dog. This cat lived many years in my mother's family, and its feats of sagacity were witnessed by her, my sisters, and myself. It was known, not merely once or twice, but habitually, to ring the parlour bell whenever it wished the door to be opened. Some alarm was excited on the first occasion that it turned bell-ringer. The family had retired to rest, and in the middle of the night the parlour bell was rung violently : the sleepers were startled from their repose, and proceeded downstairs, with pokers and tongs, to interrupt, as they thought, the predatory movement of some burglar ; but they were agreeably surprised to discover that the bell had been rung by pussy; who fre- quently repeated the act whenever she wanted to get out of the parlour.
Here are two clear cases of acts done by a cat and dog, which, if done by a man, would be called reason. Every one would admit that the actions were rational — not, to be sure,
EECT. m.] ON INSTINCT. 65
proceeding from a very high exertion of intellect ; but the dog, at least, rationally jumped into the stream at a distance higher up from the boat, into which he wished to get, because he found that the stream would thus carry him to it, instead of from it ; and the cat pulled the parlour bell, because she had observed that when it was rung by the family, the servant opened the door. It is quite clear that if such acts were done by Man, they would be regarded as an exercise of Reason; and I do not know why, when performed by brutes, evidently by a similar mental process, as far as can be judged, they should not bear the same name. To speak of a cat's having an instinct to pull a bell when desirous of going out at the door, or of an elephant's lifting up a cannon, or beating down a wall, at his driver's command, by instinct, would be to use words at random. On the other hand, hunger and thirst are as instinctive in Man as in brutes. An invalid, indeed, when taking food without appetite, does not act upon Instinct ; he acts upon Reason, which tells him that unless he eat, his strength would not support the disease under which he labours; but the man who eats when he is hungry, and drinks when he is thirsty, acts as truly from instinct as the new-born babe when it sucks.
It appears, then, that we can neither deny Reason, univer- sally and altogether, to brutes, nor Instinct, to Man; but that each possesses a share of both, though in very different propor- tions. Then the question naturally arises — which is one I pro- pose, but do not presume positively to decide — " What is the difference between Man and the higher brutes ? " We have already decided, in reference to one point, what the difference does not consist in. It is not that brutes are wholly destitute of everything that, in Man, we call Reason. Instances to the contrary, similar to what have been above mentioned, might be produced to a great extent. But this would be superfluous • because, as has been said, the docility of many brutes is familiar to all : and if any one could seriously speak of teaching any- w. e. F
66 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.
thing to a Being wholly devoid of reason, he would evidently be using the word in some sense quite different from that in which it is ordinarily employed.
And yet the difference between Man and brute, in respect of intelligence, appears plainly to be not a difference in mere de- gree, but in kind. An intelligent brute is not like a stupid man. The intelligence and sagacity shown by the elephant, monkey, and dog, are something very different from the lowest and most stupid of human Beings. It is a difference in kind, not merely in degree.
It strikes me that in all the most striking instances in which brutes display reason, all the intellectual operation seems to con- sist in the combination of means to an end. The dog who swam from a higher part of the river to reach the boat ; the cat who rang the bell to call the servant ; the elephant of whom we have read, that was instructed by his keeper, off hand, to raise himself from a tank into which he had fallen, by means of faggots, thrown into him by the keeper, on which the elephant raised himself from the pit, and from which all the windlasses and cranes in the Indian empire could not have extricated him ; the monkey in the Zoological Gardens, who used to possess himself of a nut placed beyond the reach of his paw, by doubling a straw, and casting this round it, by which means he was enabled to draw it towards him : these, and many other similar instances of sa- gacity, appear to consist in the adaptation of means to an end.
But the great difference between Man and the higher brutes appears to me to consist in the power of using SIGNS — arbi- trary signs — and employing language as an instrument of thought. We are accustomed to speak of language as useful to Man, to communicate his thoughts. I consider this as only one of the uses of language. That use of language which, though com- monly overlooked, is the most characteristic of Man, is as an instrument of thought. Man is not the only animal that can make use of language to express what is passing within his mind, and that can understand, more or less, what is so expressed by
lect. ni.] ON INSTINCT. 67
another. Some brutes can be taught to utter, and many others, to understand, more or less imperfectly, sounds expressive of certain emotions. Every one knows that the dog understands the general drift of expressions used ; and parrots can be taught not only to pronounce words, but to pronounce them with some consciousness of the general meaning of what they utter. We commonly speak, indeed, of " saying so-and-so by rote as a parrot ;" but it is far from true that they are quite uncon- scious of the meaning of the sounds. Parrots do not utter words at random; for they call for food; when displeased, scold; and use expressions in reference to particular persons which they have heard applied to them. They evidently have some notion of the general drift of many expressions which they use. Almost every animal which is capable of being tamed, can, in in some degree, use language as an indication of what passes within. But no animal has the use of language as an " instru- ment of thought." Man makes use of general signs in the application of his power of Abstraction, by which he is enabled to reason ; and the use of arbitrary general signs, — what logicians call " common terms" — with a facility of thus using Abstraction at pleasure, is a characteristic of Man.
By the expression " making use of abstraction," I do not mean our merely recognizing the general character of some in- dividual, not seen before, of a class we are acquainted with ; as when, for instance, any one sees for the first time some par- ticular man or horse, and knows that the one is a man, and the other a horse. For this is evidently done by brutes. A bird, for instance, which has been used to fly from men, and not from oxen, will fly from an individual man whom it has never seen before, and will have no fear of an ox. But this is not havinc what I call the power of using abstraction at pleasure. It is merely that similar qualities affect animals in a similar way. With certain description of forms are associated ideas of fear or gratification. Thus a young calf readily comes up to a woman whom it sees for the first time, because a woman has been used to feed it with milk; while the young of wild animals fly from
f 3
68 ON INSTINCT. [lect. m.
any human Being. But I speak of Man being able so to use the power of abstraction as to employ signs to denote any or every individual of a certain class.
Perhaps you may think that I am giving a remarkable in- stance of instinctive love of an author for the offspring of his own mind, by quoting from a work written by myself. But it is necessary to refer to the passages which treat of language as an instrument of thought in the Elements of Logic: — " In inward solitary reasoning, many, and perhaps most persons, but especially those not much accustomed to read or speak concern- ing the subjects that occupy their thoughts, make use, partly, of Signs that are not arbitrary and conventional, but which consist of mmt-dl- conceptions of individual objects ; taken, each, as a re- presentative of a Class. E.g. a person practically conversant with mechanical operations, but not with discussions of them in words, may form a conception of — in colloquial phrase, i figure to himself — a certain field or room, with whose shape he is familiar, and may employ this, in his inward trains of thought, as a Sign, to represent, for instance, ' parallelo- gram ' or ' trapezium,' &c. ; or he may ' figure to himself a man raising a weight by means of a pole, and may use this con- ception as a general Sign, in place of the term 'lever;' and the terms themselves he may be unacquainted with ; in which case he will be at a loss to impart distinctly to others his own reason- ings ; and in the attempt, will often express himself (as one may frequently observe in practical men unused to reading and speaking) not only indistinctly, but even erroneously. Hence, partly, may have arisen the belief in those supposed l abstract ideas ' which will be hereafter alluded to, and in the possibility of reasoning without the use of any Signs at all.
" Supposing there really exist in the mind — or in some minds — certain ' abstract ideas,' by means of which a train of reason- ing may be carried on independently of Common-terms [or Signs of any kind] — for this is the real point at issue — and that a system of Logic may be- devised, having reference to such reasoning — supposing this — still, as I profess not to know any-
lect. ni.] ON INSTINCT. 69
thing of these ' abstract ideas,' or of any i Universals ' except Signs, or to be conscious of any such reasoning process, I at least must confine myself to the attempt to teach the only Logic I do pretend to understand. Many, again, who speak slight- ingly of Logic altogether, on the ground of its being ' conversant only about ivords,'' entertain fundamentally the same views as the above ; that is, they take for granted that Reasoning may be carried on altogether independently of Language ; which they regard (as was above remarked) merely as a means of communi- cating it to others. And a Science or Art which they suppose to be confined to this office, they accordingly rank very low.
" Such a view I believe to be very prevalent. The majority of men would probably say, if asked, that the use of Lan- guage is peculiar to Man ; and that its office is to express to one another our thoughts and feelings. But neither of these is strictly true. Brutes do possess in some degree the power of being taught to understand what is said to them, and some of them even to utter sounds expressive of what is passing within them. But they all seem to be incapable of another very im- portant use of Language, which does characterize Man — viz., the employment of ' Common-terms' (' general- terms') formed by Abstraction, as instruments of thought ; by which alone a train of Reasoning may be carried on.
" And accordingly, a Deaf-mute, before he has been taught a Language — either the Finger-language or Reading — cannot carry on a train of Reasoning, any more than a Brute. He differs indeed from a Brute in possessing the mental capability of employing Language ; but he can no more make use of that capability, till he is in possession of some System of arbitrary general-signs, than a person born blind from Cataract can make use of his capacity of Seeing, till the Cataract is removed.
" Hence it will be found by any one who will question a Deaf- mute who has been taught Language after having grown up, that no such thing as a train of Reasoning had ever passed through his mind before he was taught.
70 ON INSTINCT. [lecx. m.
" If indeed we did reason by means of those ' Abstract ideas ' which some persons talk of, and if the Language we use served merely to communicate with other men, then a person would be able to reason who had no knowledge of any arbitrary Signs. But there are no grounds for believing that this is possible ; nor consequently, that ' Abstract-ideas ' (in that sense of the word) have any existence at all.
" There have been some very interesting accounts published, by travellers in America, and by persons residing there, of a girl named Laura Bridgeman, who has been, from birth, not only Deaf and Dumb, but also Blind. She has, however, been taught the finger-language, and even to read what is printed in raised characters, and also to write.
" The remarkable circumstance in reference to the present subject, is, that when she is alone, her fingers are generally ob- served to be moving, though the signs are so slight and imperfect that others cannot make out what she is thinking of. But if they inquire of her, she will tell them.
" It seems that, having once learnt the use of Signs, she finds the necessity of them as an Instrument of thought, when thinking of anything beyond mere individual objects of sense.
" And doubtless every one else does the same ; though in our case, no one can (as in the case of Laura Bridgeman) see the operation : nor, in general, can it be heard ; though some few persons have a habit of occasionally audibly talking to themselves ; or as it is called, ' thinking aloud.' But the Signs we commonly use in silent reflection are merely mental concep- tions, usually of uttered words : and these doubtless are such as could be hardly at all understood by another, even if uttered audibly. For we usually think in a kind of short-hand (if one may use the expression), like the notes one sometimes takes down on paper to help the memory, which consist of a word or two — or even a letter — to suggest a whole sentence ; so that such notes would be unintelligible to any one else.
" It has been observed also that this girl, when asleep, and
lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 71
doubtless dreaming, has her fingers frequently in motion : beinc in fact talking. in her sleep.
" Universally, it is to be steadily kept in mind, that no ' common-terms ' have, as the names of Individuals [' singular terms '] have, any real thing existing in nature corresponding to each of them, but that each of them is merely a Sign denoting a certain inadequate notion which our minds have formed of an Individual, and which, consequently, not including the notion of ' individuality ' [numerical-unity'], nor anything wherein that individual differs from certain others, is applicable equally well to all, or any of them. Thus ' man ' denotes no real thing (as the sect of the Realists maintained) distinct from each indi- vidual, but merely any man, viewed inadequately, i.e., so as to omit, and abstract from, all that is peculiar to each individual ; by which means the term becomes applicable alike to any one of several individuals, or [in the plural] to several together.
" The unity [singleness or sameness] of what is denoted by a common- term, does not, as in the case of a singular-term, consist in the object itself being (in the primary sense) one and the same, but in the oneness of the Sign itself: which is like a Stamp (for marking bales of goods or cattle), that impresses on each a similar mark ; called thence, in the secondary sense, one and the same mark. And just such a stamp, to the mind, is a Common-term ; which being itself one, conveys to each of an indefinite number of minds an impression precisely similar, and thence called, in the transferred sense, one and the same Idea.
" And we arbitrarily fix on the circumstance which we in each instance chuse to abstract and consider separately, dis. regaining all the rest ; so that the same individual may thus be referred to any of several different Species, and the same Species, to several Genera, as suits our purpose. Thus it suits the Farmer's purpose to class his cattle with his ploughs, carts, and other possessions, under the name of 'stock:'' the Naturalist, suitably to his purpose, classes them as ' quadru- peds,' which term would include wolves, deer, &c, which, to the
72 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.
farmer, would be a most improper classification : the Commis- sary, again, would class them with corn, cheese, fish, &c, as ' provision ;' that which is most essential in one view, being sub- ordinate in another.
" Nothing so much conduces to the error of Realism as the transferred and secondary use of the words • same,' ' one and the same,' 'identical,' &c, when it is not clearly perceived and carefully borne in mind, that they are employed in a secondary sense, and that, more frequently even than in the primary.
" Suppose e.g. a thousand persons are thinking of the Sun : it is evident it is one and the same individual object on* which all these minds are employed. So far all is clear. But suppose all these persons are thinking of a Triangle — not any individual triangle, but Triangle in general — and con- sidering, perhaps, the equality of its angles to two right angles : it would seem as if, in this case also, their minds were all employed on ' one and the same ' object : and this object of their thoughts, it may be said, cannot be the mere word Tri- angle, but that which is meant by it : nor again, can it be every- thing that the word will apply to : for they are not thinking of triangles, but of one thing. Those who do not maintain that this " one thing ' has an existence independent of the human mind, are in general content to tell us, by way of explanation, that the object of their thoughts is the abstract ' idea ' of a triangle; an explanation which satisfies, or at least silences many ; though it may be doubted whether they very clearly understand what sort of thing an ' idea ' is ; which may thus exist in a thousand different minds at once, and yet be ' one and the same.'
" The fact is, that ' unity' and ■ sameness' are in such cases employed, not in the primary sense, but to denote perfect similarity. When we say that ten thousand different persons have all ' one and the same' Idea in their minds, or are all of e one and the same' Opinion, we mean no more than that they are all thinking exactly alike. When we say that they are all in the ' same' posture, we mean that they are all 'placed alike;
lect. in.] ON INSTINCT. 73
and so also they are said all to have the ' same ' disease, when they are all diseased alike."
It is hardly necessary to add, that I am a decided nomi- nalist. The abstract Ideas of which persons speak, and the mere names of which language is represented as furnishing, are things to which I am a stranger. The using of Signs of some kind, such as have been above described, the combining and re- combining of these in various ways, and the analysing and constructing of passages wherein they occur, this is what I mean by the employment of language as an instrument of thought; and this is what no brute has arrived at. Brutes have (as has been said above), more or less, the use of language to convey to others what is passing within them. But the power of employing Abstraction at pleasure, so as to form " general Signs" and make use of these Signs as an instrument of thought, in carrying on the process which is strictly called Reasoning, is probably the chief difference of Man and the brute ; but Reason, in a sense in which the term is often employed, is, to a certain extent, common to Man and brute. And Instinct, again, although possessed by Man in an inferior degree to that of the brutes, is, in some points, common to both.
Brutes, as has been said, have not command over Abstrac- tion, so as to make use of it to form general Signs ; and it may be added, that different men are, as to this point, elevated in various degress — some more and some less — above the brutes. A great degree of a certain kind of intelligence, similar to what is found in the higher descriptions of brutes, is found in some men who have a great inaptitude for abstract Reasoning. Per- sons may often be met with who have much of a certain prac- tical sagacity, and are accounted knowing, clever, and ingenious, who yet are even below the average in respect of any scientific studies ; and others again, who rank high in that particular kind of intelligence, which is altogether peculiar to Man, are often greatly inferior to others in those mental powers which are, to a certain degree, common to Man with the higher brutes.
74 ON INSTINCT.
[lect. m.
To sum up, then, what has been hitherto said : it appears that there are certain kinds of intellectual power — of what, in Man, at least, is always called Reason — common, to a certain extent, to Man with the higher brutes. And again : that there are certain powers wholly confined to Man — especially all those concerned in what is properly called Reasoning — all employment of language as an instrument of thought ; and it appears that Instinct, again, is, to a certain extent, common to Man with brutes, though far less in amount, and less perfect in Man ; and more and more developed in other animals, the lower we descend in the scale.
An Instinct is, as has been said above, a blind tendency to some mode of action, independent of any consideration on the part of the agent, of the end to which the action leads. Hunger and thirst are no less an instinct in the adult, than the desire of the new-born babe to suck, although it has no idea that milk is in the breast, or that it is nutritious. When, on the other hand, a man builds a house, in order to have shelter from the weather, and a comfortable place to pursue his trade, or reside in, the act is not called Instinct ; while that term does apply to a bird's building a nest : because Man has not any blind desire to build the house. The rudest savage always contemplates, in forming his hut, the very object of providing a safeguard against the weather, and perhaps against wild beasts and other enemies. But, supposing Man had the Instinct of the bird — supposing a man who had never seen a house, or thought of protecting himself, had a tendency to construct something analogous to a nest ; or again, supposing a bird was so endowed with reason as to build a nest with a view to lay eggs therein, and sit on them, with a design, and in order, to perpetuate its species : in the former case Man would be a builder from Instinct, and in the latter, the bird would be a builder from Reason.
But it is worth observing that there are many cases in which, though the agent is clearly acting from rational design with a view to a certain end, yet the act may, in reference to
LBCT. in.] ON INSTINCT. 75
another and quite different end, which he did not contemplate, be considered as in some sort instinctive. When, for instance, any one deliberately takes means to provide food for the gratification of his hunger, and has no other object in view, his acts are, evidently, with a view to that immediate end, rational and not instinctive. But he is, probably, at the same time, and by the same act, promoting another object, the preservation of his life, health, and strength; which object, by supposition, he was not thinking about. His acts, therefore, are in refer- ence to the preservation of life — analogous, at least, to those of Instinct ; though, in reference to the object he was contem- plating— the gratification of hunger — they are the result of deliberate calculation.
There are many portions of men's conduct to which this kind of description will apply — particularly all that men do with a view solely to their own individual advantage, but which does produce most important, though undesigned, advantages to the Public. " And this procedure" (as I have observed in the Fourth Lecture on Political Economy) " is, as far as regards the object which the agent did not contemplate, precisely analogous, at least, to that of instinct.
" The workman, for instance, who is employed in casting printing-types, is usually thinking only of producing a commo- dity by the sale of which he may support himself; with reference to this object, he is acting, not from any impulse that is at all of the character of instinct, but from a rational and deliberate choice : but he is also, in the very same act, contributing most powerfully to the diffusion of knowledge, about which perhaps he has no anxiety or thought : in reference to this latter object, therefore, his procedure corresponds to those operations of various animals which we attribute to instinct; since they doubtless derive some immediate gratification from what they are doing, So Man is, in the same act, doing one thing, by choice, for his own benefit, and another, undesignedly, under the guidance of Providence, for the service of the community."
And again, " various parts of man's conduct as a member
76 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.
of society are often attributed to human forethought and design, which might with greater truth be referred to a kind of instinct, or something analogous to it ; which leads him, while pursuing some immediate personal gratification, to further an object not contemplated by him. In many cases we are liable to mistake for the wisdom of Man what is in truth the wisdom of God.
" In nothing, perhaps, will an attentive and candid inquirer perceive more of this divine wisdom than in the provisions made for the progress of society. But in nothing is it more liable to be overlooked. In the bodily structure of Man, we plainly perceive innumerable marks of wise contrivance, in which it is plain that Man himself can have had no share. And again, in the results of instinct in brutes, although the animals themselves are, in some sort, agents, we are sure that they not only could not originally have designed the effects they produce, but even afterwards have no notion of the con- trivance by which these were brought about. But when human conduct tends to some desirable end, and the agents are com- petent to perceive that the end is desirable, and the means well adapted to it, they are apt to forget, that, in the great majority of instances, those means were not devised, nor those ends pro- posed, by the persons themselves who are thus employed. Those who build and who navigate a ship, have usually, I con- ceive, no more thought about the national wealth and power, the national refinements and comforts, dependent on the inter- change of commodities, and the other results of commerce, than they have of the purification of the blood in the lungs by the act of respiration, or than the bee has of the process of con- structing a honeycomb.
" Most useful indeed to Society, and much to be honoured, are those who possess the rare moral and intellectual endow- ment of an enlightened public spirit ; but if none did service to the Public except in proportion as they possessed this, Society I fear would fare but ill. Public spirit, either in the form of Patriotism which looks to the good of a community, or
lect. ra.] ON INSTINCT. 77
in that of Philanthropy which seeks the good of the whole human race, implies, not merely benevolent feelings stronger than, in fact, we commonly meet with, but also powers of abstraction beyond what the mass of mankind can possess. As it is, many of the most important objects are accomplished by the joint agency of persons who never think of them, nor have any idea of acting in concert; and that with a certainty, com- pleteness, and regularity, which probably the most diligent benevolence, under the guidance of the greatest human wisdom, could never have attained.
" For instance, let any one propose to himself the problem of supplying with daily provisions of all kinds such a city as our metropolis, containing above a million of inhabitants. Let him imagine himself a head commissary, entrusted with the office of furnishing to this enormous host their daily rations. Any considerable failure in the supply, even for a single day, might produce the most frightful distress, since the spot on which they are cantoned produces absolutely nothing. Some, indeed, of the articles consumed admit of being reserved in public or private stores, for a considerable time ; but many, including most articles of animal food, and many, of vegetable, are of the most perishable nature. As a deficient supply of these, even for a few days, would occasion great inconvenience, so a redundancy of them would produce a corresponding waste. Moreover, in a district of such vast extent, as this ' province ' (as it has been aptly called) ' covered with houses,' it is essential that the supplies should be so distributed among the different quarters, as to be brought almost to the doors of the inha- bitants ; at least within such a distance that they may, without an inconvenient waste of time and labour, procure their daily shares.
" Moreover, whereas the supply of provisions for an army or garrison is comparatively uniform in kind : here the greatest possible variety is required, suitable to the wants of various classes of consumers.
" Again, this immense population is extremely fluctuating
78 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.
in numbers ; and the increase or diminution depends on causes, of which, though some may, others can not, be distinctly foreseen. The difference of several weeks in the arrival, for instance, of one of the great commercial fleets, or in the assembly or dissolution of a parliament, which cause a great variation in the population, it is often impossible to foresee.
" Lastly, and above all, the daily supplies of each article must be so nicely adjusted to the stock from which it is drawn — rrto the scanty, or more or less abundant, harvest — importation — or other source of supply — to the interval which is to elapse before a fresh stock can be furnished, and to the probable abundance of the new supply, that as little distress as possible may be undergone ; that on the one hand the population may not unnecessarily be put upon short allowance of any article, and that on the other hand they may be preserved from the more dreadful risk of famine, which would ensue from their continuing a free consumption when the store was insufficient to hold out.
" Now let any one consider this problem in all its bearings, reflecting on the enormous and fluctuating number of persons to be fed — the immense quantity, and the variety, of the pro- visions to be furnished, the importance of a convenient distri- bution of them, and the necessity of husbanding them discreetly; and then let him reflect on the anxious toil which such a task would impose on a Board of the most experienced and intelligent commissaries; who after all would be able to dis- charge their office but very inadequately.
" Yet this object is accomplished far better than it could be by any effort of human wisdom, through the agency of men, who think each of nothing beyond his own immediate interest — who, with that object in view, perform their respective parts with cheerful zeal — and combine unconsciously to employ the wisest means for effecting an object, the vastness of which it would bewilder them even to contemplate.
" It is really wonderful to consider with what ease and regu- larity this important end is accomplished, day after day, and
lect. in.] ON INSTINCT. 79
year after year, through the sagacity and vigilance of private interest operating on the numerous class of wholesale, and more especially retail, dealers. Each of these watches attentively the demands of his neighbourhood, or of the market he frequents, for such commodities as he deals in. The apprehension, on the one hand, of not realizing all the profit he might, and, on the other hand, of having his goods left on his hands, either by his laying in too large a stock, or by his rivals underselling him — these, acting like antagonist muscles, regulate the extent of his deal- ings, and the prices at which he buys and sells. An abundant supply causes him to lower his prices, and thus enables the Pub- lic to enjoy that abundance ; while he is guided only by the ap- prehension of being undersold ; and, on the other hand, an actual or apprehended scarcity causes him to demand a higher price, or to keep back his goods in expectation of a rise.
" For doing this, corn-dealers in particular are often exposed to odium, as if they were the cause of the scarcity ; while in re- ality they are performing the important service of husbanding the supply in proportion to its deficiency, and thus warding off the calamity of famine ; in the same manner as the commander of a garrison or a ship regulates the allowances according to the stock, and the time it is to last. But the dealers deserve neither censure for the scarcity which they are ignorantly supposed to produce, nor credit for the important public service which they in reality perform. They are merely occupied in gaining a fair livelihood. And in the pursuit of this object, without any com- prehensive wisdom, or any need of it, they co-operate, unknow- ingly, in conducting a system which, we may safely say, no human wisdom directed to that end could have conducted so well — the system by which this enormous population is fed from day to day.
" I have said, ' no human wisdom ;' for wisdom there surely is in this adaptation of the means to the result actually produced. In this instance, as well as in a multitude of others, from which I selected it for illustration's sake, there are the same marks of contrivance and design, with a view to a beneficial end, as we
80 ON INSTINCT.
[lect. m.
are accustomed to admire (when our attention is drawn to them by the study of Natural Theology) in the anatomical structure of the body, and in the instincts of the brute creation. The pul- sations of the heart, the ramifications of vessels in the lungs — the direction of the arteries and of the veins — the valves which prevent the retrograde motion of the blood — all these exhibit a wonderful combination of mechanical means towards the end manifestly designed, the circulating system. But I know not whether it does not even still more excite our admiration of the beneficent wisdom of Providence, to contemplate, not corporeal particles, but rational free agents, co-operating in systems no less manifestly indicating design, yet no design of theirs ; and though acted on, not by gravitation and impulse, like inert matter, but by motives addressed to the will, yet advancing as regularly and as effectually the accomplishment of an object they never contemplated, as if they were merely the passive wheels of a machine."
As for Instincts strictly so-called — those wholly unconnected with anything rational in the agent — these are, as has been said, more and more curiously developed the lower we go in the ani- mal creation. Insects far surpass in this respect the more in- telligent brutes. The architecture of many of these is far more complicated and curious, than that of the bird or the beaver ; and they not only construct receptacles for their young, but, in many instances — that of the bee among others — store up in these a supply of food of a totally different kind from what they subsist on themselves.
The gratification which, doubtless, is in all cases afforded by the performance of any instinctive act, is what we can give no explanation of. Birds take a delight in picking up straws and feathers, and weaving them into a nest ; and bees, in con- structing a cell, and storing it with pollen, which they do not eat themselves, but which is the food of the larvae. All we can say is, that the bird has a kind of appetite at a certain season for picking up straws ; and so for the rest. But the mysteri- ousness of the process is greater in some cases than in others ;
lect. ni-1 ON INSTINCT. 81
because, in some cases we cannot, while in others we can, perceive through what medium the instinct acts. We can under- stand, for instance, thiough the means of what organs the in- stincts of sucking and of suckling operate. We can understand that the young calf is incited to suck by the smell of its mother's milk, and that the mother is anxious to be sucked by its young, because it is thus relieved from a painful and distressing dis- tention of the udder ; but I cannot understand the analogous instinct of birds. We do not know through the medium of what organs birds are induced to put food into the mouths of their young. We see a pair of birds searching all day long for food ; and in many instances the food they seek is such as they do not feed on themselves — for example, granivorous birds hunt after caterpillars for their young : in other cases they seek for food which their own appetite incites them to eat ; but they treasure it for their young, and are impelled by an instinctive appetite to put it into its mouth when opened. I might also add, that this instinct is not peculiar to birds. The mammalia partake of it; for we find wolves, dogs, and other carnivorous animals, bringing home meat, and leaving it before their young ones. If a bitch or wolf has pups, and cannot bring food to them other- wise than by first swallowing it, she swallows it, and then dis- gorges it ; for the animal has the power of evacuating its stomach at pleasure. Pigeons invariably swallow the food be- fore they give it to their young.
There are many other cases in which it cannot be ascer- tained towards what the immediate impulses of animals tend. Take the case of migratory birds — even those which have been caged : when a particular season arrives, they desire to fly in a certain direction. Now, towards what the impulse is we cannot comprehend. They have a disposition to fly ; but it is not a mere desire to use their wings. They have a disposition to fly in a certain direction ; but what leads them in that direction cannot be understood.
In some instances, in short, we know through what organs the impulse acts, although we cannot understand why it is that w. E. G
82 ON INSTINCT. [lect. in.
the organs should have that particular sort of impelling power. In other instances we do not know the organs, or the impulse on which the animal acts, but only the object designed by Pro- vidence. As for instance, we can only say of migratory birds, that they are impelled not by a mere desire to use their wings, but to fly in a certain direction pointed out to them by God ; but how pointed out, is only known to Him.
It is not my design to give a lecture on natural theology — a subject which has been ably treated of by Paley and others ; but I will take occasion to remark, that one of the most interest- ing and important points dwelt on by these authors is, the combination of physical laws with instincts adapted to them. When we see a combination of causes all apparently directed from various quarters to a certain end, which is accomplished not by one impulse alone, but by an adaptation of several impulses to certain physical laws, one of which would not be effectual without the other, we cannot hesitate for a moment to recognise this great principle in nature. One instance out of many, of this principle, may be taken as a sample — that of the instinct of suction, as connected with the whole process of rear- ing young animals. The calf sucks, and its mother equally desires to be disburthened of its milk. Thus there are two instincts tending the same way. Moreover, the calf has an appetite for grass also ; it takes hold of the grass, chews and swallows it ; but it does not bite but sucks the teat. But it is also necessary that there should be a physical adaptation of the atmosphere to the instinct of the animal. It is the pressure of the atmosphere upon the part, and the withdrawal of that pressure within the young animal's mouth, which forces out the milk. Here is an adaptation of instinct to the physical consti- tution of the atmosphere. Yet, again, all this would be insuf- ficient without the addition of that Storge, or instinctive parental affection, which leads the dam carefully to watch and defend its young. The most timid animals are ready to risk their lives, and undergo any hardships, to protect their young,
i.Ef'T. m.] ON INSTINCT. 83
which is a feeling quite distinct from the gratification felt bj the dam from her offspring drawing her milk. Here, then, are several instincts, and the adaptation of the atmosphere to one of those instincts, all combining towards the preservation of the species ; which form, in conjunction, as clear an indication of design as can be conceived. It is hardly possible to conceive any plainer mark of design, unless a person were beforehand to say that he intended to do a certain thing. Yet this is not all ; for the secretion of milk is not common to both sexes, and all ages, and all times. Here is the secretion of milk at a par- ticular time, just corresponding with the need for it. If we found sickles produced at harvest, fires lighted when the weather is cold, and sails spread when favourable winds blow, we should see clearly that these things were designed to effect a certain end or object. Now, in the case of the mother and the young, there is a secretion of milk at a particular period, and in an animal of a distinct sex — the one which has given birth to the young. Yet the perpetuation of the species might take plaee if the milk had been so provided as to be constant and uniform in all ages and sexes. But what we do see is, means provided for an end, and just commensurate to that end.
I will conclude with proposing one more question, which I consider well worthy of inquiry — that relating to the im- planting and modification of Instinct in animals. The most widely diffused of all implanted and modified Instincts is that of Wildness or Tameness. Whether the original Instinct of brutes was to be afraid of Man, or familiar with him, I will not undertake to say. My own belief is, that it is the fear of Man that is the implanted instinct. But at any rate, it is plain that either the one or the other — wildness or tameness — must be an implanted and not an original Instinct. All voyagers agree, that when they have gone into a country which had not apparently been visited by Man, neither bird nor beast exhibited fear. The birds perched familiarly upon their guns, or stood still to be knocked on the head. After the country had been for some time frequented, not only individual animals become
g 3
84 ON INSTINCT. [lect. ra.
afraid of Man, but their offspring inherit that fear by Instinct. The domesticated young of the cow, and the young of the wild cattle of the same species, furnish illustrations of this fact. I have seen an account of an experiment tried with respeet to these latter. In this instance, a very young calf of one of the breed of wild cattle still remaining in some of the forests in England, on seeing a man approach, lay crouching close, and preserving the most perfect stillness, apparently endeavoured to escape notice. On being discovered, it immediately put itself in an attitude of defence, commenced bellowing and butting at the intruder with such violence that it fell forward upon its knees, its limbs, from its tender age, being yet scarcely able to support it. It rose and repeated the attack again and again, till by its bellowing, the whole herd came galloping up to its rescue. We all know how different this is from the action of a young calf of the domestic breed.
To what extent Instinct is implanted in animals in conse- quence of the education received by many generations of their predecessors, is a point to which the attention of the curious might be profitably directed. I have pointed out the road, and hope that the question may lead to important inquiries upon the subject.
LECTURE IV.
DR. PALEY'S WORKS.
To give anything like a complete review of the Works of Dr. Paley, would far exceed the limits of a single Lecture, or even of two or three. But a few remarks on some of the most important matters he has treated of, and on the manner in which he has handled them, will, it is hoped (considering how important those matters are, and how great his celebrity as an Author), be neither uninteresting nor uninstructive.
The very circumstance however of his being so well-known an Author may perhaps be thought by some to make any notice of his Works superfluous. But in truth, though these Works are much read in comparison of those of most other writers, they are less read — considering the popular character of most of them — than they deserve to be. For one person that is well acquainted with them, there are probably five — and those per- fectly qualified to understand and to profit by the perusal — who know little or nothing of them except at second-hand, and by report.
On the other hand, it is far from superfluous to point out some of the errors that are to be found in some of the Works of this eminent man, and especially in that one — his Moral Philosophy — which is in use as a University text-book.
That Work, and his Christian Evidences (including the libra Pwulince), his Natural Theology, and his Sermons and Charges, are the whole of his publications. They are all cha- racterized by a remarkably clear and forcible style, very simple, with an air of earnestness, generally devoid of orna-
86 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
merit, and often homely ; but occasionally rising into a manly and powerful eloquence.
His style is a striking contrast to that of a kind of writers, who, in our day, are regarded by some with great admira- tion ; Writers who affect a sort of mystical, dim, half-intelligible kind of sublimity; and who, from their grandiloquent obscurity, are supposed to be very profound ; just as muddy water is sometimes taken for deep, because one cannot see to the bottom of it.
Of this class of Writers, whom the late Bishop Copleston used to call " the Magic-Lantern School," Paley is the very opposite. And whenever anything that is at all of the cha- racter of eloquence does appear in him, it is doubly striking from its standing in such a strong relief, as it were, in the midst of what is so remarkably plain and unadorned. It is like a gleam of bright sunshine breaking out from a generally clouded sky.
The concluding passage of the Sores Paulince affords a striking example of the effect thus produced. The general style of the work is business-like, simple and unpretending, to the greatest degree. But the winding up of the argument at the conclusion is in a kind of unstudied eloquence which reminds one of a lightning flash from a dark cloud. This work is, as probably most of you are aware, an examination of the Apostle Paul's Epistles along with the Acts of the Apostles, in order to show, by internal evidence alone, that they must both be genuine Works. He discovers a vast number of points of coincidence between them, so minute, and evidently unde- signed, that it is totally impossible they could' ever have found their way either into a forgery, or a compilation made up in after-ages from floating traditions. And this is done so ably and so satisfactorily, that I have often recommended the study of this work to legal students ; not merely on account of its intrinsic value, with a view to its own immediate object, but also as an admirable exercise in the art of sifting evidence.
That minuteness in the points of coincidence which I have
lect. iv.] dr. paley's works. 87
alluded to, and which Paley so earnestly dwells on, is just the circumstance which, in a question of evidence, makes their im- portance the greater. The unthinking are apt to overlook this, and to conclude that what is itself a very small and trifling circumstance, is small and unimportant as a proof. But the most important evidence is often furnished by things the most insignificant in themselves. The impression of the sole of a Man's Shoe, or a scrap of paper used as Wadding for a gun, have led to the detection of crimes. And in reality it is alto- gether in minute points that the difference is to be perceived between truth and fabrication. A false story may easily be made plausible in its general outline ; — in the great features of the transactions related. But in some very minute particulars, which would escape notice except on a very close examination, there will almost always be found some inconsistencies, such as, of course, could not exist in a true narrative.
The difference- in this respect, between truth and fabrication, answers to that between the productions of Nature and the works of Art. Both may appear equally perfect at a slight glance, or even on close inspection by the naked eye. But apply a microscope to each, and you will see the difference. A piece of delicate cambric, under the Solar Microscope, looks like a coarse sail-cloth ; and an artificial flower, which might deceive the naked eye even of a florist, will appear rugged and uneven ; while the petals of a real flower, or the wing of a fly, when thus examined, exhibit such delicate and perfect and beautiful regularity, that " even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." And so it is when we apply the Microscope of close and minute investigation to genuine compo- sitions and true history.
Paley, then, having by the application of his Microscope fully established the genuineness of these Works, proceeds in conclusion, to state very briefly the inference which inevitably follows, considering what the matter of them is, and to whom written, and by whom, and when.
" Here then," he says, " we have a man of liberal attain-
88 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
ments, and in other points, of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the service of the Gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of his purpose, travelling from country to country, enduring every species of hardship, encountering every extremity of danger, assaulted by the populace, punished by the magistrates, scourged, beat, stoned, left for dead ; expecting, wherever he came, a renewal of the same treatment and the same dangers ; yet, when driven from one city, preaching in the next ; spending his whole time in the employment, sacrificing to it his pleasures, his ease, his safety ; persisting in this course to old age, unaltered by the experience of perverseness, ingrati- tude, prejudice, desertion ; unsubdued by anxiety, want, labour, persecutions ; unwearied by long confinement, undismayed by the prospect of death. Such was St. Paul. We have his letters in our hands : we have also a history purporting to be written by one of his fellow-travellers, and appearing, by a comparison with these letters, certainly to have been written by some person well acquainted with the transactions of his life. From the letters, as well as from the history, we gather not only the account which we have stated of him, but that he was one out of many who acted and suffered in the same manner ; and that, of those who did so, several had been the companions of Christ's Ministry, the ocular witnesses, or pretending to be such, of his Miracles, and of his resurrection. We moreover find this same person referring in his letters to his supernatural conversion, the particulars and accompanying circumstances of which are related in the history, and which accompanying cir- cumstances, if all or any of them be true, render it impossible to have been a delusion. We also find him positively and in appropriated terms, asserting that he himself worked Miracles, strictly and properly so called, in support of the Mission which he executed ; the history, meanwhile, recording various passages of his Ministry, which come up to the extent of this assertion. " The question is, whether falsehood was ever attested by evi- dence like this. Falsehoods, we know, have found their way into reports, into tradition, into books : but is an example to be met with, of a man voluntarily undertaking a life of want and
lect iv.] dr. paley's works. 89
pain, of incessant fatigue, of continual peril ; submitting to the loss of his home and country, to stripes and stoning, to tedious imprisonment, and the constant expectation of a violent death, for the sake of carrying about a story of what was false, and of what, if false, he must have known to be so ? "
Very eloquent again, though much too long for citation, is the concluding chapter of the Natural Theology.
And now compare a passage of such clear, homely, forcible simplicity as this, with the bombastic obscurity of such Writers as it is now the fashion, with some persons, to admire as full of transcendental wisdom and eloquence; and say which is the more likely to be approved by those of solid good sense, and pure taste ; and which, by those of an opposite character.
Here is a specimen, to which as many more might be added as would fill a volume : —
Tradition is " a vast system, not to be comprised in a few sentences, not to be embodied in one code or treatise, but con- sisting of a certain body of truth, permeating the Church like an atmosphere, irregular in its shape from its very profusion
and exuberance ; at times melting away into legend
and fable; partly written, partly unwritten, partly the inter- pretation, partly the supplement of Scripture, partly preserved in intellectual expressions, partly latent in the spirit and temper of Christians ; poured to and fro in closds and upon the house- tops, in liturgies, in controversial works, in obscure fragments, in sermons1."
Again, " It [Religion] is a mountain air ; it is the embalmer of the world. It is myrrh, and storax, and chlorine, and rose- mary. It makes the sky and hills sublime ; and the silent
song of the stars is it Always the seer is the sayer.
Somehow his dream is told, somehow he publishes it with solemn joy, sometimes with pencil on canvas, sometimes with chisel on stone; sometimes in towers and aisles of granite, his soul's wor- ship is builded Man is the Wonder Maker. He is seen
amid miracles. The stationaryness of religion, the assumption
Newman's Lectures on the Church, p. 298.
90 DK. PALEY's WORKS. [Lect. iv.
that the age of inspiration is past, tliat the Bible is closed ; the fear of degrading the character of Jesus by representing Him as a Man, indicate with sufficient clearness, the falsehood of our theology. It is the office of a true teacher to show us that God is, not was — that He speaketh, not spoke. The true Christi- anity— a faith like Christ's in the infinitude of Man — is lost. None believe th in the soul of Man, but only in some man or per- son old and departed ! In how many churches, and by how many prophets, tell me, is Man made sensible that he is an infinite soul ; that the earth and heavens are passing into his mind ; and that he is drinking for ever the soul of God ! The very word Miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a false impression ; it is a monster ; it is not one with the blowing
clover and the falling rain Man's life is a miracle,
and all that Man doth A true conversion, a true
Christ, is now, as always, to be made by the reception of beautiful sentiments. The gift of God to the soul is not a vaunting, overpowering, excluding sanctity, but a sweet natural goodness like thine and mine, and that thus invites thine and mine to be, and to grow."
" If thou hast any tidings," says Falstaff to Pistol, " prithee deliver them like a man of this world."
It is worth observing that this Writer (as well as several others of these "Children of the Mist") professes to be a Cht istian. They believe in Christianity, all but the history and the doctrines. The history they consider as partly true, but partly a Myth, and partly an exaggerated and falsified report ; and the doctrines as a mixture of truth with errors and pious frauds. Yet though in reality much further removed from Christianity than a Jew or a Mahometan, they are quite ready to take that oath, " on the true faith of a Christian," which many have regarded as the great bulwark of the christian character of our Legislature ! And you should observe that, with hypocrisy (against which, it has been most truly remarked, no legal enact- ments can afford security) these persons are not at all chargeable. They are to be censured indeed for an unwarrantable use of the terms they employ ; — for inventing a new language of their own,
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 91
and calling it English. But since they tell us what it is they do mean by Christianity, they cannot fairly be accused of deceit. I am told that the school or sect to which most of these Writers belong is called " Positivity" and that its doctrine is the worship of Human Nature. If you have no clear notion con- cerning this system, you are, probably, so far, on a level with its authors.
Paley's Horce Paulince was, I understood, considered by him- self as his Masterpiece. And in that judgment I concur. In his other Works, much of the valuable matter they contain is ex- tracted in a condensed form from other authors ; so that his chief praise — no slight one however — is that of an able com- piler. But the Eorce Paulince, is emphatically an original Work, and one which exhibits in a most striking manner his peculiar acuteness in sifting evidence.
It is not unlikely that this work has had the effect, among others, of inciting subsequent Writers to enter on the task of investigating internal evidences ; while it has furnished them with an admirable example of the way in which the process is to be conducted.
A most interesting Work which has appeared but a few years ago, Smith's Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul, reminds one of Paley's volume, which perhaps may in some degree have suggested it.
And' the same may be said of Graves's Lectures on the Pen- tateuch.
Paley's longer Work on the Evidences is in a great measure compiled from Dr. Lardner's Credibility of the Grospel, exhibiting the main part of his arguments in a more compressed, and at the same time more popular form. A still more brief, and still more popular compendium, however, seemed yet wanting ; and accordingly a little Tract, which most of you probably are ac- quainted with, was drawn up a few years ago, containing the substance of most of Paley's arguments, with the addition of some others.
To that Tract, and to Paley's Evidences, and to his Horn
92 DR. paley's WORKS. [LECT. jy.
Paulince, and to Leslie's and Lardner's Works on the same sub- ject, no answer, as far as I know and believe, has ever been brought forward. The opponents of Christianity always chuse their own position ; and the position they chuse is always that of the assailant. They bring forward objections; but never at- tempt to defend themselves against the objections to which they are exposed.
The cause of this it is easy to perceive. Objections — not only plausible, but real, valid, and sometimes unanswerable ob- jections— may be brought against what is nevertheless true, and capable of being fully established by a preponderance of proba- bility ;— by showing that there are more and weightier objec- tions on the opposite side. If therefore any one can induce you to attend to the objections on one side only, wholly overlooking the (perhaps weightier) opposite ones, he may easily gain an ap- parent triumph. A barrister would have an easy task if he were allowed to bring forward all that could be said against the party he was opposed to, and to pass over in silence all that could be urged on the other side, as not worth answering.
And many of the best-established and universally admitted historical facts, might in this way be assailed, by showing that they are in many respects very improbable. The history, for instance, of Napoleon Buonaparte has been shown to contain a much greater amount of gross and glaring improbabilities than any equal portion of Scripture-history; or perhaps even than all the Scripture-narratives together. And yet all believe it ; because the improbability of its being an entire fabrication is incalculably greater.
Again, the far greater portion of the human race have never seen the Ocean ; and they believe in its existence on the testi- mony— at second or third hand — of others. Now this is a thing which, according to Hume, they ought not to believe on any tes- timony, because it is at variance with their experience. Not only have they never seen any such thing, but they have had experience of ponds and rivers, all, of fresh Water ; while they are told that the sea is salt; and this, though the fresh rivers, and fresh rain,
lect. iv.] dr. paley's works. 93
are said to fall into it. Moreover they are told tliat it abounds in fish ; and they have had experience of fish living in fresh Water, but none of their living in brine. And if they tried the experiment of putting some river fish into brine, and found that it killed them, they might say that they now knew by experi- ence the falsity of what they had been told respecting the Ocean, in addition to their general experience of men's telling false tales.
To prove that there is nothing improbable in the existence of a salt ocean covering above three-fourths of the Globe, would not be easy. And yet men do believe it, and have good reasons for believing it, even when they have not seen it.
And practically, all reasonable men proceed on the maxim of an ancient Greek author, which is repeatedly cited by Aristotle ; that "it is probable that many improbable things will happen."
Indeed, were it not so, every intelligent and well-informed man would be a prophet. By an extensive study of History, and observation of Mankind, he would have learned to judge accurately what kind of events are probable. And if nothing ever happened at variance with probabilities, — if everything was sure to turn out conformably to reasonable expectations (which is just what is always assumed by anti-christian Writers), then, such a person might sit down and write a prospective history of the next Century; and do this as easily and as correctly as he could write a history of the last century : even as astronomers can calculate forwards the eclipses that are to come, as easily as they can calculate backwards those that are past.
Let those objectors then, who are merely objectors, try the experiment of writing a conjectural prophetic history. Their histories, I conceive, would be found a good deal at variance with each other; and all of them, when the time arrived, at variance with the events.
That most interesting and valuable Work, the Natural
94 dr. paley's works.
[lect. TV.
Theology, it has of late been asserted was chiefly taken from a Dutch Writer, with less acknowledgment than ought to have been made. How the fact stands, I am not competent to decide. But if it be true that Paley is more largely indebted to another Writer than he has himself represented, this may verily easily have happened without any designed misrepre- sentation. When a Work has been long in hand — as was probably the case with this one — the author is not unlikely to forget the source from which he had originally derived some of the facts and of the arguments which had long since become familiar to him, and, as it were, a part of the furniture of his mind. And he may thence occasionally fall into an unconscious plagiarism.
It should be observed however, on the other hand, that there are some critics who have cultivated something of the mental habits of a " detective Policeman," always on the look-out for stolen goods ; — critics who are so anxious to display their acuteness in finding plagiarisms, that if in two authors they meet with the same thought, or anything that can be tortured into a coincidence, they at once infer that the one must have taken it from the other.
In the Natural Theology Paley has exceedingly well pointed out numerous instances of evident design in the Universe, and of such wise design as manifestly proves an intelligent Creator. But in what he says of benevolent design, and, universally, in all that relates to the Moral attributes of the Deity, he labours under a disadvantage resulting from his peculiar views on the subject of morality. Not that he is to be complained of for not satisfactorily explaining — what no one can explain — the existence of evil in the universe. But considering what a mixture of good and evil actually does present itself to our view, it would be impossible for Man, if he really were such a Being as Paley represents him to be, to form those notions of the divine benevolence which Paley himself contends for.
Man, according to him, has no moral faculty, — no power of distinguishing right from wrong, — no preference of justice
lect. it.] dr. paley's works. 95
to injustice, or kindness to cruelty, except when one's own personal interest happens to be concerned. And this he attempts to establish by collecting all the instances that are to be found in various ages and countries, of anomalies in men's moral judgment; showing that this kind of crime was approved in one country, and that kind in another: that one vice was tolerated in one age, and another in another. And even so, one might collect specimens of anomalies in the human frame ; showing that some persons have been born without arms or without legs ; some, deaf-mutes, some blind, and some idiots. Whence it might be inferred, that Man ought not to be described as a rational Being, or one endowed with the faculty of speech, or having eyes, and hands, and feet. A man then, according to his view, being compelled, by the view of the universe, to admit that God is benevolent, is thence led, from prudential motives alone, to cultivate benevolence in himself, with a view to secure a future reward. The truth, I conceive, is exactly the reverse of this; viz., that Man having in himself a Moral-faculty (or taste, as some prefer to call it) by which he is instinctively led to approve virtue and disapprove vice, is thence disposed and inclined antecedently, to attribute to the Creator of the universe, — the most perfect and infinitely highest of Beings, — all those moral (as well as intellectual) qualities which to himself seem the most worthy of admiration, and intrinsically beautiful and excellent. For, to do evil rather than good, appears to all men (except to those who have been very long hardened and depraved by the extreme of wickedness) to imply something of weakness, imperfection, corruption, and degradation. I say " disposed and inclined," because our admiration for benevolence, wisdom, &c, would not alone be sufficient to make us attribute these to the Deity, if we saw no marks of them in the creation ; but our finding in the creation many marks of contrivance, and of beneficent contrivance, together with the antecedent bias in our own minds, which inclines us to attribute goodness to the Supreme Being — both these conjointly lead us to the conclusion that God is infi-
96 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect.it.
nitely benevolent, notwithstanding the admixture of evil in his works, which we cannot account for. But these appearances of evil would stand in the way of such a conclusion, if Man really were, what Dr. Paley represents him, a Being destitute of all moral sentiment, — all innate and original admiration of goodness. He would, in that case, be more likely to come to the conclusion (as many of the Heathen seem actually to have done) that the Deity was a Being of a mixed or of a capricious nature; an idea which, shocking as it is to every well- con- stituted mind, would not be so in the least, to such a mind as Dr. Paley attributes to the whole human species.
To illustrate this argument a little further ; suppose a taste- ful architect and a rude savage to be both contemplating a magnificent building, unfinished, or partially fallen to ruin ; the one, not being at all able to comprehend the complete design, nor having any taste for its beauties if perfectly exhibited, would not attribute any such design to the author of it, but would suppose the prostrate columns and rough stones to be as much designed as those that were erect and perfect ; the other would sketch out in his own mind something like the perfect structure of which he beheld only a part ; and though he might not be able to explain how it came to be unfinished, or decayed, would conclude that some such design was in the mind of the builder : though this same man, if he were contem- plating a mere rude heap of stones which bore no marks of design at all, would not in that case draw such a conclusion.
Or again, suppose two persons, one having an ear for music, and the other totally destitute of it, were both listening to a piece of music imperfectly heard at a distance, or half drowned by other noises, so that only some notes of it were distinctly caught, and others were totally lost or heard im- perfectly ; the one might suppose that the sounds he heard were all that were actually produced, and think the whole that met his ear to be exactly such as was designed ; but the other would form some notion of a piece of real music, and would conclude that the interruptions and imperfections of it were not
lect. iv ] dr. paley's works. 97
parts of the design, but were to be attributed to his imperfect hearing: though if he heard on another occasion, a mere con- fusion of sounds without any melody at all, he would not conclude that anything like music was designed.
The application is obvious : the wisdom and goodness dis- cernible in the structure of the universe, but imperfectly discerned, and blended with evil, leads a man who has an innate approbation of those attributes, to assign them to the Author of the universe, though he be unable to explain that admixture of evil ; but if Man were destitute of moral senti- ments, the view of the universe, such as it appears to us, would hardly lead him to that conclusion.
When the edition of Archbishop King's discourse appeared (from the Appendix to which the above passage is extracted) a gentleman belonging to a university in which Paley's Moral Philosophy is a text-book, published a vindication of him from the charge of denying the existence of a Moral-faculty. He sent me, along with a very courteous letter, a copy of his work. I expressed, in answer, my very great surprise that there should exist any difference of opinion, not, as to the soundness of Paley's view, but of what it is that he does say ; considering how very perspicuous his style is. And I transcribed a short passage from the Moral Philosophy , giving a reference to several others ; all to the same purpose. In reply, the writer of the vindication confessed that he had overlooked these passages, which did, he admitted, fully bear out my remarks.
I was indeed well prepared to believe, that (as I said in the opening of this Lecture) many persons hear much, and talk much, of Paley's Works, while they have read little or nothing of them. But that any one should publish a commentary on a work which he had not read with even moderate attention, over- looking a statement which is no slight incidental remark, but the very basis of the whole system, — this did seem to me very strange.
The passage I cited is the following, from chap. iii. " Let it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my word ? and the
W. E. H
98 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
answer will be, Because I am urged to do so by a violent motive (namely, the expectation of being, after this life, re- warded if I do, or punished if I do not) resulting from the com- mand of another; — namely, of God. . . . Therefore private happiness is our motive, and the will of God, our rule."
Here, by the way, it is to be observed that in speaking of reward, he contradicts what he had laid down in the preceding chapter ; in which he expressly excludes the idea of reward from that of obligation. " Offer a man," says he, " a gratuity for doing anything, he is not obliged by your offer, to do it ; though he may be induced, prevailed upon, tempted, to do it."
Again, he says in the same third chapter : " There is always understood to be a difference between an act of prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrusted a man who owed me a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence to get another person bound with him ; but I should hardly call it an act of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a very unusual and loose kind of language, to say — that as I had made such a promise, it was prudent to perform it ; or that, as my friend, when he went abroad, placed a box of jewels in my hands, it would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till he returned.
" Now in what, you will ask, does the difference consist? inasmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in the one case and the other, — in acts of duty, as well as acts of prudence, — we consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or lose by the act.
" The difference, and the only difference, is this ; that, in the one case, we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present world ; in the other case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to come.
" They who would establish a system of morality, indepen- dent of a future state, must look out for some different idea of moral obligation ; unless they can show that virtue conducts the possessor to certain happiness in this life, or ti> a much greater share of it than he could attain by a different behaviour."
LECT. iv.] dk. paley's works. 99
And the same doctrine is repeatedly and distinctly stated in other places; as the very fundamental principle of the treatise.
When he says that " they who would establish a system of morality independent of a future state, must look out for some different idea of moral obligation," it is strange it did not occur to him, that, according to him, they never could possibly form any idea of it at all. One might as well say, Men see with their eyes, and cannot see any otherwise ; and those who have no eyes, must see as well as they can without them.
And equally strange is the qualification he adds, — t{ Unless they can show that virtue conducts the possessor to certain happiness in this life, or to a much greater share of it than he could attain by a different behaviour." For, by his account, if they could show this (and this is what Aristotle and all the ancient heathen moralists do maintain ; none of whom make any reference to a future state of reward and punishment, or appear to have believed in any), then, what is commonly called virtue would be merely a branch of prudence. For, " the only difference," — he had just said — '* between an act of prudence and an act of duty, depends on our looking to the present world, or to the world to come." And it is as plain as any axiom of Euclid, that if you take away " the only difference" between two things, you leave them exactly alike.
Yet Aristotle and the other ancient writers, did in common with all their countrymen, use terms which we rightly translate by the word " virtue ;" and always draw a distinction between that and a mere regard for one's worldly interest. All which would have been clearly impossible, if Paley's theory were correct. It is refuted not by any alleged truth and soundness in their views, but by the very language they employ.
If you could imagine a whole nation labouring under that curious defect of vision which does exist in some few individuals, the total non-perception of colours, you might be quite sure that that nation would not have in their language any words signifying red, yellow, blue, and green. And you may be no
h3
100 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [u3CT.nr.
lews sure that a nation which perceived no difference between virtue and self-interest, would have no such word as tl virtue" in their language.
But, in truth, Paley's distinction between an act of duty and an act of prudence, is one which is not recognised in the expressions or the notions of any class of men in any country ; and amounts (as far as regards the present question) to no distinction at all. Whatever is done wholly and solely from motives of personal expediency, — from calculations of individ- ual loss or gain- — is always accounted a matter of prudence, and not of virtue. If you could suppose a man who had no disap- probation whatever of cruelty, injustice, and ingratitude, as things bad in themselves, and who would feel no scruple against committing theft or murder, if he could do so with impunity, but who abstained from such acts purely from fear of suffering for it, whether in this life or the next, just as he would abstain from placing his money in an insecure bank ; and if he relieved the distressed, and did services to his neighbours, without any kindly feeling, or any sense of duty, but entirely with a view to his own advantage, hoping to obtain, — suppose, — votes at an election, or some benefit in an- other world, — just as a grazier feeds his cattle well, that he may make the better profit of them, — we should not, if we thought thus of him, call him a virtuous man, but merely prudent.
Revelation was not bestowed on Mankind to impart to them the first notions of moral good and evil, but to supply suffi- cient motives for right practice, and sufficient strength to act on those motives. And accordingly you find in the New Testament that those to whom the Gospel was preached are not addressed as persons having no notion of any difference between right and wrong ; but are exhorted to " add to their faith, virtue, brotherly love, charity," and to follow after " whatsoever things are pure, and lovely, and honest, and of good report."
And this indeed is distinctly and fully admitted by Paley
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WOEKS. 101
himself; who says, in the opening of his Treatise, that " the Scriptures pre-suppose in the persons to -whom they speak, a knowledge of the principles of natural justice ; and are employed, not so much to teach new rules of morality, as to enforce the practice of it by new sanctions." It is strange he did not perceive that this admission overthrows his theory of the non-existence of a natural conscience. For, the far greater part of those whom the New-Testament Scriptures address had been brought up in Paganism ; a religious system as immoral as it was absurd. They could not therefore have originally derived their " principles of natural justice" from calculations founded on a knowledge of the divine will ; but must have had (as Paul assures us) " the law written in their hearts ; their conscience also bearing witness."
But the great heathen Moralist, Aristotle, after having given a full and glowing description of what virtue is, and on the whole, not an incorrect one, laments (in the conclusion of his treatise) that so few can be induced in practice to model their life on the principles he has laid down. He is like the fabled Prometheus, who was said to have succeeded in fashion- ing a well-constructed human body, but found it a cold and lifeless corpse, till he had ascended up to heaven, to bring down celestial fire to animate the frame. And thus it is that the writings of this, and of other Heathen Moral Philosophers furnish a strong confirmation of the divine origin of our reli- gion ; since it is morally impossible, humanly speaking, that ignorant Galilsean peasants and fishermen could have written in a moral tone partly coinciding with, and partly surpassing, that of the most learned Philosophers of Greece.
To discuss as fully as it deserves the interesting and im- portant subject now before us, would, of course, far exceed the limits of this Lecture. But those who do feel an interest in it, may be referred to works that are quite accessible, and not at all too abstruse for ordinary readers. Some of you probably are acquainted with a little elementary book of Lessons on
102 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. it.
Morals, of which the greater part appeared first in the periodical called the Leisure Sour, and in which the points I have now slightly touched on are treated of more fully. And there is an edition of selections from Aristotle's Moral Philo- sophy, for the use of the students of Trinity College, Dublin, which I have been accustomed to recommend even to readers who understand nothing of Greek, for the sake of a disserta- tion, of considerable length, in English, and in very plain English, which is prefixed, and which I consider to be well worth the price of the whole book1.
At present, I will only add, before quitting the subject, a brief remark on the curious circumstance that Paley's doc- trine of the total absence, in Man, of any Moral-faculty, is strenuously maintained by a large class of persons the most opposed to him as a theologian, and who regard his opinions on religion as utterly unsound.
M. Napoleon Roussel is one out of many of these. He has published a number of little tracts, all ingenious, and most of them sound and edifying. But in one of them — The Believing Infidel (IS Incredule Croyani) he strongly advocates (though not more so than many other divines of a very influential school) the views I have been alluding to.
The cause of this their adherence to Paley's theory I con- ceive to be a well-intentioned but misdirected desire to exalt God's glory, and set forth Man's sinfulness, without perceiving that they are in fact doing away with both the one and the other.
If Man be naturally destitute of any faculty that distinguishes right and wrong, — any notion of such a thing as Duty — then, no one can be accounted sinful, any more than a brute beast, or a born idiot. These do many things that are odious and mischievous, and that would be sin in a rational Being; but the term sin we never apply to their acts (any more than the term folly) precisely because they lack a Moral-faculty and a rational nature; — because not having a conscience, they cannot violate the dictates of conscience. Indeed, an idiot
1 Since this Lecture was delivered, an edition of Paley's Moral Philosophy with Annotations has appeared.
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 103
is accordingly called, in some parts of the country, an " in- nocent," on the very ground of his having this deficiency, which Paley and his followers attribute to all mankind. And a revelation of the divine commands to a Being destitute of the Moral-faculty, though it might deter him from certain acts through fear of punishment, as brutes, we all know, may be so influenced, would leave him still remaining (as they are) a stranger to any notion of such a thing as Duty. He would be no more a moral agent than a dog or a horse1.
And to speak to such a Being of the moral attributes of the Deity, Avould be like speaking of colours to a blind-born man. If he attaches no meaning to the words " good," and " just," and " right," except that such is the divine command, then, to say that God is good, and his commands just, is only saying in a circuitous way, that He is what He is, and that what He wills He wills ; which might equally be said of any Being in the universe. Indeed, this is what Paley himself perceives and distinctly admits. [Chap, ix.] He admits that we attribute goodness to the Most High, on account of the conformity of his acts to the principles which we are accustomed to call "good;" and that these principles are called "good" solely from their conformity to the divine will. It is very strange that when he did perceive that he was thus proceeding in a circle, this did not open his eyes to the erroneousness of the principle which had led him into it.
And any one would be equally involved in a vicious circle, who, while he held Paley's theory, should refer to the pure and elevated moral tone of the New Testament as an internal evidence (and in reality it is a very strong one) to prove that it could not be the unaided work of ignorant, half-crazy Jewish peasants and fishermen. For, if all our moral notions are entirely derived from that book, to say that the morality of the book is correct, is merely to say that it is what it is. We should be arguing like the Mahometans, who infer the in- spiration of the Koran from the excellence of its style; they having made the Koran their sole standard of style, and reckon-
1 Rom. i ii.
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ing every work to be the better or the worse Arabic, in propor- tion as it approaches more or less to the language of the Koran.
But what tends to keep up this confusion of thought in some men's minds is this ; we do conclude in this or that particular instance, that so and so is wise and good, though we do not perceive its wisdom and goodness, but found our conviction solely on its being the divine will. But then, this is from our general conviction that God is wise and good; not from our attaching no meaning to the words wise and good, except the divine will. Then, and then only, can the command of a Superior make anything a duty, when we set out with the conviction that it is a duty to obey him. It is just so, accordingly, that we judge even in what relates to our fellow-men. If some measure were proposed by any friend whom you knew from his past conduct to be a very able and upright man, you would presume, even before you knew any particulars of that measure, that it must be a wise and good one. This would be a natural and a fair mode of judging of the unknown from the known. And you would think a person very absurd who should thereupon conclude that you had no notion at all of what is a wise and good measure, and meant nothing by those words except that it is what proceeds from that friend of yours. And so it is in many other cases. You have read (suppose) several works of a certain author, and have found them all highly interesting and instructive. If, then, you hear of his bringing out a new work, you expect, before you have seen it, that it will be a valuable one. But this is not from your meaning by a " valuable work " nothing at all but that it comes from his pen, but from your reasoning — very justly — from the known to the unknown.
To infer that because this or that particular book, or measure, or rule of conduct, may be presumed to be good, solely on account of the person it proceeds from, therefore the same may be the case with all of them collectively, would be a gross fallacy, (what in logical language is called the " fallacy
lect. rv.] DR. paley's works. 105
of composition") and one which, in such instances as those just given, would be readily detected.
A right-minded Christian then will say, " I am sure so and so is right, though I do not understand why or how it is ; but such is the command of my heavenly Father ; and I do under- stand that I have good grounds for trusting in Him." And such a man will keep clear of the presumption, calling itself humility, of those who insist on it that in such and such in- stances the Almighty had no reason at all for what He has done, except (as they express it) to " declare his sovereignty ;" and that He acted only "for his own glory ;" as if He could literally seek glory ! Whenever the Most High has merely revealed to us his will, we must not dare to pronounce that He had no reasons for it except his will, because He has not thought fit to make those reasons known to us. To say (as some have presumed to say1) that He does so and so for no cause ivhatever except that He chuses it, seems little, if at all, short of blasphemy. Even an earthly king, being not responsible to any of his subjects for the reasons of his commands, may sometimes think fit to issue commands without explaining his reasons. And it would be insolent rashness for any one thence to conclude that he had no reasons, but acted from mere caprice.
So also, a dutiful child will often have to say, " I do so and so because my kind and wise parents have commanded me : that is reason enough for me." But though this is — to the child — a very good reason for obeying the command, it would be a very bad reason, with the parents, for giving that command. And he would show his filial veneration, and trust, not by taking for granted that his parents had no reason for their commands, but, on the contrary, by taking for granted that there was a good reason both for their acting as they did, and for their withholding from him any explanation.
Paley's theory is derived (as he informs us), in great measure,
1 See Lessons on Morale, Lees. XVIII. I 4, Note.
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from Tucker's Light of Nature : a work of great originality, and containing much curious and valuable matter, mixed up with much that is not at all deserving of approbation. It is a book -which I have been accustomed to compare to a gold-mine, containing many particles, and some considerable masses, of very precious metal, confusedly intermingled with much gravel and clay. I cannot think Paley was happy in his choice of the portion he has selected. He would have found a much safer guide in the celebrated Bishop Butler. The denial however of a Moral-faculty was no new device of Tucker's ; being substantially what was maintained by the infidel Hobbes in his once-celebrated work the Leviathan. And it was so far from being new, then, that it is noticed by Aristotle as having been maintained in his time.
It is to be observed however that Paley' s fault as a Moralist is chiefly one of omission. I mean, that much of what he says is truth, though far short of the whole truth; and that he arrives at many right conclusions, though based on insufficient grounds. It is true, for instance, that we are commanded to do what is right, and forbidden to do what is wrong ; though it is not true that this is the only meaning of the words " right " and " wrong." And it is true that God will reward and punish; though it is not true that a calculation of reward and punish- ment constitutes the whole notion of Duty.
Accordingly, faulty as is the basis of Paley's Moral Philo- sophy, there is much to approve in the superstructure. On points of detail, that is, he is generally correct, and often highly instructive.
Some errors, however, there are in his practical rules. And one of them I will notice, because I am not aware of any one's having hitherto pointed it out. In enumerating the cases in which promises are not binding, he speaks of its being quite evident that a promise is not binding when the performance is impossible. And yet daily experience shows that this rule does not hold good, except when it is distinctly stated or fully under-
lect. iv.] DR. PALET'S WORKS. 107
stood by both parties, that the promise is to have this limita- tion ; that is, where you prudently insert the condition of "if possible," or " I will do my utmost." But without this, any one who makes an engagement is supposed to have fully con- sidered all possibilities ; and if he fails, from whatever cause, he is held bound to make good the damage, or to suffer the blame and penalty of non-fulfilment. If for instance, a mer- chant or manufacturer contracts to deliver certain goods on such a day, he is never allowed to plead that the non-arrival of an expected ship, or a strike of his workmen, rendered the fulfilment impossible. In fact no such pica is ever put in; because it is known that it would not be listened to. Every court of justice would sentence him to pay damages just the same as if the failure had been caused by negligence. And if the other party chuses, out of compassion for an unavoidable and unexpected mischance, to forego the claim, this is a matter of charity, but not a claim of right. If in short, you engage merely to do what you can to effect a certain object, you are bound to use your best endeavours, and you are not bound to succeed, nor are liable to any blame for unavoidable failure. But an unconditional promise claims an unconditional fulfil- ment ; and if it is not fulfilled, the other party has a right to complain, and may claim any compensation that can be ob- tained.
Again, there is a most objectionable doctrine maintained (which, however, was the prevailing one till of late years) m the second volume, that on Political Philosophy. He teaches that the direct encouragement of population is the " object which in all countries ought to be aimed at, in preference to every other political purpose whatever." And this is to be done by inducing the mass of the people to content themselves with the lowest description of food, clothing, and dwellings that are compatible with a bare subsistence. The result is, such a condition as that of the chief portion of the population in many parts of India, and in some of the worst districts of Ireland a few years ago. Indeed India and Ireland are the very countries
108 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
Paley refers to with approbation. You have a swarming popu- lation, very poor, debased, and leading a life approaching that of savages. This is the state of things in ordinary seasons. But when there comes a failure in the rice-crop or the potato- crop, the people having nothing to fall back upon, perish by myriads from famine and its attendant diseases.
It must be remembered, however, in Paley's favour, that the above doctrine was nearly universal, up to the time when Malthus wrote. And even now, persons may be found among what are called " the educated classes," who decry that eminent and most valuable writer. They do not indeed disprove his facts, or answer his arguments. In truth, one might as well talk of answering Euclid. But they misrepresent him ; which is easily done to those who judge of a book merely from hearsay. And they allude to him as an author long since so thoroughly refuted and exploded as not to be worth notice : which is what may easily be said, — though not always so easily proved, — of anything whatever.
But Paley, as I have said, is only maintaining the errone- ous notions, which, up to his time, had never received, as they have since, a clear refutation.
One other portion of this work of Paley's I shall briefly advert to, without entering on any discussion of the subject- matter of it, but merely in confirmation of my remark in the outset, that his Works are much more talked of than studied.
In chap, vi., Book V.,he treats of " Sabbatical institutions" — the Jewish Sabbath, and the Lord's Day. And when (a good many years after) the same doctrine, in substance, with his, was put forth by another author, it was decried, not merely as erroneous, but as an unheard-of novelty. Not merely many of the illiterate, but several also who were supposed to be learned Divines, spoke of it (and that in published works) as something that had never before occurred to any christian writer. Now it was indeed no novelty in Paley's time ; his view being what was almost universal throughout Christendom for the first
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 109
fifteen centuries and more ; and had been set forth by Calvin and others of the most eminent Reformers. But it is not perhaps very strange that persons of no extensive reading, should have been ignorant of ancient books, some of them in Latin. But Paley's work had been for half a century a text- book in a great university. And that any writer on these subjects should either be himself ignorant of its contents, or should calculate on that ignorance in his readers, is really wonderful. As for the soundness or unsoundness of Paley's doctrine, that is a question of opinion, and is one on which I shall not now enter. But the existence of his opinions is a matter of fact ; and is a fact of which one might have sup- posed all readers to be aware. But its having been thus over- looked, is a strong proof of what I remarked above, that an author of great celebrity may be much talked of, and yet little known.
I have thought it necessary to advert — not without re- luctance— to this matter, because any such error, when detected (as it is sure to be, sooner or later), leads to consequences extending far beyond the immediate question it may happen to relate to. When a religious teacher makes such a misstatement of facts as proves him to be either grossly and culpably ignorant of what he ought to have clearly ascertained, or else, guilty of disingenuous suppression, all the rest of his teaching is likely to be regarded with a distrust, which may be undeserved, but which cannot be wondered at.
In the published Sermons of Paley, there is much that is highly valuable and instructive, though in some parts, what he maintains is exceptionable, and has incurred from some a very severe censure; a censure which I cannot think wholly un- deserved, though it is so in part. He does certainly too much underrate the change requisite for every man in order to become acceptable to the Most High ; a change, that is, of the character of Man such as Man is by nature, and left to himself without the aid of divine grace, into the character of those who
110 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iy.
are " led by the Spirit of God," as the Apostle says, to become " sods of God." And I think that, in treating of this subject, he was influenced for the worse by his theory of Morals. The conscience (or Moral-faculty) is liable, when Man is left to himself, to be perverted — to be debased — and to be deprived of its rightful supremacy over the whole Man. It needs to be elevated, to be corrected, and purified, and to be supported in its legitimate sovereignty. But all this is likely to be over- looked by one who, though himself, of course, possessing this Moral-faculty (as we all do, more or less) and in some degree unconsciously influenced by it, yet denies its existence, and makes what is commonly called Duty to consist merely in a calculation of loss and gain.
But, on the other hand, it is undeniable and is what ought not to be lost sight of, that, as Paley remarks, the far greater part of those whom the Apostles address were converts from Paganism. Now Paganism was a religion which required (not to be corrected, but) to be wholly eradicated. It was not, as some are apt to suppose, merely an imperfect religion, with a mixture of foolish superstitions ; but it was in fact the worship of evil Demons; and a worship corresponding with their character. " Every abomination unto the Lord which He hateth " (as you read in the Books of Moses), el have these nations done unto their gods ;" that is, the foulest wickedness was not only tolerated and sanctioned by their religion, but was, in many instances, a part of their religion. And such is the case with the Hindu paganism at this day ; as we have now, at least, good reason to know.
Aristotle, in his treatise on Politics, though he does not venture to denounce altogether the religion of his countrymen, yet expressly warns them not to. allow young persons to approach the temples of those deities of whose appointed worship the grossest profligacy formed an essential part ! Thus religion, instead of rectifying or restraining men's natural evil tendencies, was a direct source of corruption. And it may well be supposed therefore that a large portion of Paul's
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. Ill
converts were persons who had long been living a life of gross profligacy. And as for the Jews, we find him declaring [Epis. to the Romans] that while they prided themselves on their observance of the ceremonial law, their immoral lives caused the name of the Lord to be " blasphemed among the Gentiles." Accordingly we find this Apostle alluding to the " former conversation '' [mode of life] of his converts, " wherein in times past they walked," as perfectly detestable. They had been thoroughly alienated from the true God, not only in practice but in principle. But no word answering to " con- version " is ever employed by the Sacred Writers in reference to a baptized Christian ; although they had occasion to rebuke very severely some of their people (as you may see in the 1st Epistle to the Corinthians and elsewhere) for gross mis- conduct.
As for those persons (of whom, unhappily, there are not a few) who, having been born and bred in a christian country, lead an unchristian life, they are doubtless under a far heavier responsibility than Paul's hearers who had been brought up in heathen darkness ; and the change needful for them is at least as great, and perhaps more difficult, inasmuch as they have wilfully shut their eyes to the light. But the " conversion " — if that word must be used — which is needful for one who has been brought up " in the nurture and admonition of the Lord," and from a child " has known the Holy Scriptures," and with whom such an education has been blest with success, — this must at least be something different from that of a heathen, or of one who has hitherto led an utterly ungodly life. And it would be perhaps all the better if different words were employed to denote different things ; lest the notion should be encouraged, which experience, as well as reason, shows there is a danger of, — that every one must pass a certain portion of his life in gross vice and irreligion, before he becomes a " converted character1."
1 See Bishop Fitzgerald's Charge.
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The difference between the two cases maybe thus illustrated : a skilful gardener, if he has to deal with a wilding tree which " bears evil fruit," will (as their phrase is) head it down, and graft it from a good fruit-tree; not however thenceforward neglecting it, but watching that the wilding stock does not push out shoots which would starve the graft. If again, he has in his garden a young vine of a good sort, he will pursue a different plan, though he will be far from neglecting the plant. He will carefully prune it, from time to time, and manure it, and fence it, and do his best to protect it from blights and other injuries. Now both of these procedures may be called " culture ;" but they are different kinds of culture ; and it is best that they should be denoted by different words.
Something like this was probably Paley's meaning ; though his view is partly incorrect, in consequence of his adopting that theory of morals, which (as I have already observed) is strenuously maintained by many persons of a theological school the most opposite to his.
You will have observed that it is as a writer on the evidences of natural and of revealed religion that I consider Paley to be especially eminent. Though there is nothing of his that is not well worth an attentive perusal, I would place Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments and his Wealth of Nations, (though not regarding either as infallibly right throughout,) higher than Paley's works on the same subjects. And Butler's Moral Dis- courses are more valuable still.
As a writer on evidences, I have spoken of Paley already. But I cannot conclude without a few very brief remarks on the subject of christian evidences itself.
There are some persons who from various causes, deprecate this study altogether1 ; or at least would confine it to an ex- ceedingly small number of learned men whose inclinations and opportunities have led them to devote their lives to it. I have
See Cautions for the Times, No. XI. XII.
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 113
heard even men of good sense in other points, remark that to in- vestigate all the reasons for and against the reception of Chris- tianity would be more than the labour of a whole life ; and that therefore all except perhaps some five or six out of every million, had better not trouble themselves at all about the matter. It is very strange that it should fail to occur to any man of good sense, that it may be possible and easy, and in many cases, highly desirable, to have sufficient reasons for believing what we do be- lieve ; though these reasons may not be the twentieth part of what might be adduced, if there were any need for it. Any one of us, for instance, may be fully convinced, and on very good grounds, that he was hi such and such places yesterday, and saw such and such persons, and said and did so and so. But all the evidence that might be collected, of all this — supposing, for in- stance, that this was needful with a view to some trial that was going on — would perhaps fill a volume. Suppose, for example, you had to repel some charge by proving an alibi ; what a mul- titude of circumstances, and what a crowd of witnesses, you might bring forward to prove that you really were in such a place at such a time.
In every case, except perhaps the one case of religion, every one would perceive the absurdity of refusing to attend to any reasons at all, because there might be a multitude of other reasons also, which we had not the power, or the leisure, to inves- tigate. And since therefore it has pleased the All-wise to create Man a rational animal, and there is always some cause, though often a very absurd one, for any one's believing or disbelieving as he does, and since on all subjects men are often led to reject valuable truths, and to assent to mischievous falsehoods, it is surely an important part of education that men should be trained in some degree to weigh evidence, and to distinguish good reasons from sophistry, in any department of life, and not least in what concerns religion.
But when the mass of the unlearned people (it has been said) do believe in a true religion, no matter on what grounds it is better to let them alone in their uninquiring faith, than to
W. E. I
114 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
agitate and unsettle their minds by telling them about evidences. They should be kept in ignorance, we are told, that the truth of Christianity was ever doubted by any one ; that is, they must be kept in ignorance not only of the world around them, but of all books of history, including the Bible. It has even been publicly maintained in a work which was the organ of a powerful and numerous party in our Church, that an ignorant rustic who be- lieves Christianity to be true, merely because he has been told so by those he looks up to as his superiors, has a far better ground for his belief than Paley or Grotius, or any such other writer. Now this is the ground on which the ancient and the modern Pagans, and the Mahometans, rest their absurd faith, and reject the Gospel. The evidence therefore which has proved satisfactory to the most enlightened Christians is, it seems, ab- solutely inferior to that which is manifestly and notoriously good for nothing !
Yet it is possible that some of those who speak thus may really believe that Christianity itself can stand the test of evi- dence ; but they wish that some other things should be believed, which will not stand that test. They wish men to give credit to some mediaeval legends of miracles, and unsupported traditions, and new dogmas of human device ; and they would rather not encourage them to cultivate the habit which the Apostle Peter recommends, of being " ready to give a reason of their hope." He who is trying to pass a large amount of coins, some good and some counterfeit, will be alarmed at seeing you apply a chemical test to the pure gold, lest you should proceed in the same way with the rest.
Others, not belonging to the party just alluded to, have pub- licly and very strongly proclaimed their conviction that any in- quiry into the evidences of our religion is most likely to lead to infidelity. (i Many thanks !" an infidel might reply, "for that admission ! I want nothing more. That all inquiry, while it will establish a belief in what is true, will overthrow belief in Christianity or any other imposture, is just what I think. But
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 115
nothing coming from me could have near the force of such an admission from you."
One is loth to attribute to writers who are professed advo- cates of Christianity an insincere profession, and a disguised hostility. And yet, supposing them sincere, the absurdity of their procedure seems almost incredible. " Save me from my friends," we may say, " and let my enemies do their worst." Let one of these writers imagine himself tried in a court of jus- tice, and his Counsel pleading for him in a similar manner : " Gentlemen of the jury, my client is an innocent and a worthy man, take my word for it : but I entreat you not to examine any witnesses, or listen to any pleadings ; for the more you inquire into the case, the more likely you will be to find him guilty." Every one would say that this advocate was either a madman, or else wilfully betraying his client1.
One other class of persons I shall briefly notice, in conclu- sion, who take a different view, but I cannot think a right one, of the study of christian evidences. They acknowledge its use and necessity ; but they dislike and deplore that necessity. They view the matter somewhat as any person of humane dis- position does, the arming and training of soldiers ; acknow- ledging, yet lamenting, the necessity of thus guarding against insurrections at home, or attacks from foreign nations ; and though, when forced into a war, he rejoices in meeting with victory rather than defeat, he would much prefer peaceful tranquillity. Even so, these persons admit that evidences are necessary in order to repel unbelief; but all attention to the subject is connected in their minds with the idea of doubt ; which they feel to be painful, and dread as something sinful.
Far different however are men's feelings in reference to any person or thing that they really do greatly value and admire, when they have a full and firm conviction2. No one in ordi- nary life considers it disagreeable to mark and dwell on the
See Note A, at the end of this Lecture. a Cautions for the Times.
i3
116 DR. PALEY'S WORKS. [lect. iv.
constantly recurring proofs of the excellent and admirable qualities of some highly valued friend — to observe how his character stands in strong contrast to that of ordinary men ; and that while experience is constantly stripping off the fair outside from vain pretenders, and detecting the wrong motives which adulterate the seeming virtue of others, his sterling excellence is made more and more striking and conspicuous every day : on the contrary, we feel that this is a delightful exercise of the mind, and the more delightful the more we are disposed to love and honour him. Yet all these are proofs, — or what might be used as proofs, if needed, — of his really being of such a character. But is the contemplation of such proofs connected in our own mind with the idea of harassing doubt, and anxious contest ? Should it not then be also delightful to a sincere Christian to mark, in like manner, the proofs which if he look for them, he will continually find recurring, that the religion he professes came not from Man, but from God, — that the Great Master whom he adores was indeed the " way, the truth, and the life," — that " never man spake like this man ;" — and that the Sacred Writers who record his teaching were not mad enthusiasts, or crafty deceivers, but men who spoke in sincerity the words of truth and soberness which they learned from Him ? Should he not feel the liveliest pleasure in com- paring his religion with those false creeds which have sprung from human fraud and folly, and observing how striking is the difference ?
And so also, in what is called natural theology — the proofs of the wisdom, goodness and power of God — how delightful to a pious mind is the contemplation of the evidence which it pre- sents ! What pleasure to trace, as far as we can, the countless instances of wise contrivance which surround us in the objects of nature, — the great and the small — from the fibres of an insect's wing, to the structure of the most gigantic animals — from the minutest seed that vegetates, to the loftiest trees of the forest — and to mark everywhere the work of that same Creator's hand, who has filled the universe with the monuments
lect. iv.] DR. PALEY'S WORKS. 117
of his wisdom; so that we thus (as Paley has expressed it) make the universe to become one vast Temple.
It is not for the refutation of objectors merely, and for the conviction of doubters, that it is worth while to study in this manner, with the aid of such a guide as Paley, the two volumes — that of Nature and that of Revelation, — which Providence has opened before us, but because it is both profitable and gratifying to a well-constituted mind to trace in each of them the evident handwriting of Him, the divine Author of both.
NOTE TO LECTURE IV.
NOTE A.
In confirmation of what has been said, I have thought it advisa- ble to subjoin extracts (to which many more might have been added) from writers of different schools, to show the coincidences between an avowed Atheist and professed favourers of Christianity, of different parties, and the contrast they all present to the New Testament writers.
" Upon the whole, we may con- clude that the christian Beligion not only was at first attended with mira- cles, hut even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere reason is insuf- ficient to convince us of its veracity ; and whoever is moved by Faith to assent to it, is conscious of a con- tinued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the princijiles of his understanding, aDd gives him a determination to believe what is most contrary to custom and expe- rience."— Hume's Essay on Miracles (at the end).
* * we are to be censured for having " shifted the ground of our belief from testimony to argument, and from faith to reason." * * *
In answering the question why our religion is to be believed, " the poor, ignorant, uninstructed peasant will probably come nearest to the answer of the Gospel. He will say, ' Because I have been told so by those who are wiser and better than myself. My parents told me so, and the clergyman of the parish told me so ; and I hear the same whenever I go to church. And I put confidence in these persons, because it is natural that I should trust my superiors.
I have never, had reason to suspect that they would deceive me. I hear of persons who contradict and abuse them ; but they are not such persons as I would wish to follow in any other matter of life, and therefore not in religion. I was born and bap- tized in the church, and the Bible tells me to stay in the church, and obey its teachers ; and till I have equal authority for believing that it is not the church of Christ, as it is the Church of England, I intend to adhere to it.' Now, such reasoning as this will appear to this rational age very paltry and unsatisfactory : and yet the logic is as sound as the spirit is humble. And there is no- thing to compare with it either in- tellectually, or morally, or religiously, in all the elaborate defences and evi- dences which would be produced from Paley, and Grotius, and Sumner, and Chalmers." — British Critic.
" The sacred writers have none of the timidity of their modern apologists1. They never sue for an assent to their doctrines, but authori- tatively command the acceptance of them. They denounce unbelief as guilt, and insist on faith as a virtue of the highest order. In their ca- tholic invitations, the intellectual not
i See pp. 54-5.
NOTE 10 LECTURE IV.
119
less than the social distinctions of mankind, are unheeded. Every stu- dent of their writings is aware of these facts, etc. * * * * They jjresuppose that vigour of under- standing may consist with feebleness of reason ; and that the power of dis- criminating between religious truth and error does not depend chiefly on the culture or on the exercise of the mere argumentative faculty. The special patrimony of the poor and illiterate — the Gospel — has been the stay of countless millions who never framed a syllogism. Of the great multitudes who, before and since the birth of Grotius, have hived in the peace and died in the consolations of our Faith, how small is the pro- portion of those whose convictions have been derived from the study of works like his. Of the numbers who have addicted themselves to such studies, how small is the proportion of those who have brought to the task either learning, or leisure, or industry, sufficient, &c. * * * He who lays the foundation of his faith on such evidences will too com-
monly end either in yielding a credulous and therefore an infirm assent, or in reposing in a self-suf- ficient and far more hazardous in- credulity."— Edinburgh Review.
" This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and mani- fested his glory, and his disciples believed on Him."
" We know that thou art a teacher sent from God; for no man can do these miracles that thou dost except God be with him."
" If I had not done among them the works that none other man did, they had not had sin."
" The works that I do in my Father's name, they bear witness of mo."
" Him God raised up, and showed Him openly ; not to all the people, but to witnesses chosen afore of God, even to us," &e.
" To Him bear all the Prophets witness."
" Be always ready to give to every one that asketh you, a reason of the hope that is in you," &c.
LECTURE V.
PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT.
It is not my design to treat of the wondrous antiquities of Egypt ; its Hieroglyphics, its Temples, and its pyramids ; nor shall I attempt any description of the extraordinary physical features of the country; one portion of it an unreclaimable desert, another — close bordering on that — of an admirable fer- tility, almost rainless, but well watered by the Nile.
On these subjects many curious and interesting works have been written, which will well repay perusal ; but I think it will also be interesting, and not altogether unprofitable, to bring before you a few brief notices of the political and social con- dition of the country, its government, and the habits and notions of the people. For, the Egyptian Pyramids do not differ more from our buildings, or the ancient hieroglyphics from our writing, than the Egyptian institutions, and customs, and modes of thought, do from ours.
The particulars which I propose to lay before you are what I have learned from some friends who have lately been residing in Egypt. The great mass of the population of Egypt consists of what are called Fellahin, which is the plural of Fellah. They are Mahometans, and their language is Arabic ; but they are believed by all the most competent judges to be a mixed race, partly Arabs and partly Coptic, derived from intermarriages be- tween Arabians and those Copts — the ancient possessors, as is generally believed, of Egypt — who have embraced the Mussul- man faith. There are also, on the borders of the desert, many tribes of Bedouins, who are pure Arabs, and are described as
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 121
differing considerably in features from the above. Then there are Copts, though in no great numbers (about 217,000), who have remained separate, and retain the profession of Christianity. But the Coptic language, in which their Scriptures are written, and their religious Service performed, is a dead language. There are also in Egypt a few scattered Syrian and Greek Christians, and a very small number of Armenians. The Jews are esti- mated at about 5000, though some estimate them at nearly twice that number; and the Turks, who hold almost all the chief offices, and the greater part of the property, are supposed not to exceed 10,000, out of a total population believed to be about five millions. These speak the Turkish language; and many of them know little or nothing of any other.
The Government, as has almost always been the case with all Oriental nations, is purely monarchical. Egypt is reckoned a portion of the Ottoman Empire, and is governed by a Viceroy. But the Viceroy is something intermediate between an indepen- dent sovereign and a provincial governor ; and the office is under- stood to be hereditary. Tribute is paid to the Turkish Sultan, and nominally allegiance to him is professed ; but the Viceroy, though always a Turk by extraction, if not by birth, governs, in most points, according to his own pleasure, and in some instances has even waged war with the Sultan. Much mutual jealousy almost always prevails ; the more, because the terms of the connexion are undefined and uncertain, so that intrigues and counter-manoeuvres are perpetually going on ; the one party wishing to establish a more complete dependence, and the other a more complete independence, of Egypt on Constantinople. But as for any constitutional check on the Ruler's power, for the protection of the subjects' liberty, that is a thing unknown among Orientals.
An absolute monarchy, we, and the people of many other European nations, would probably consider as, on the whole, a bad institution. But there are several points in which the expectations which many persons might be inclined to form respecting such a government would be the reverse of the facts.
122 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
They might expect it to possess — with all its evils — some advan- tages which experience shows it does not possess.
For instance, it might naturally be expected that under a despotism, the persons appointed to each office would be, if not really the most fit, yet at least selected as being believed so : the Sovereign having his choice unrestricted by considerations of parliamentary influence, which, in a representative government, often render necessary the advancement of those whom the Sovereign does not really prefer. And again — an absolute monarchy might — as some would suppose, visit with such sum- mary and severe punishment (though sometimes, perhaps, over- severe) any misconduct of officials, as most effectually to deter from wrong-doing. No one, in short, would be able, it might be thought, to purchase either undeserved promotion, or im- punity for abuse of power, by his own or his family's popular influence.
And this was the very argument urged (according to the testimony of several independent witnesses) by a late eminent European Autocrat, to justify his avowed and deep detestation of a constitutional monarchy. A pure republic, it is said, or an absolute king, he did not object to ; but a limited regal government, with a popular representation, he considered as the very hot-bed of such corruption as he boasted of being exempt from.
But now, how stand the facts, as reported by all, without exception, who have had opportunities of ascertaining them? There is, in the very empire of that Autocrat, more corrupt administration of justice, more peculation, more malversation of every kind, among officials, going on every year, than among us in half a century. And, by the testimony of all travellers, there is in Egypt a still greater amount of all these abuses.
One of the appointments which the Sultan of Constantinople retains in his own hands, is that of the chief Cadi (the head magistrate) of the city of Cairo. It is notoriously sold to the best bidder ; and that, from year to year — for he must be an- nually confirmed in his post. And the Turk who has purchased
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 123
it comes from Constantinople, quite ignorant, for the most part, of the language of the people whose judge he is to be, and bent on reimbursing himself as amply as possible for his outlay.
Now, let any one consider what would be our condition, if our chief magistrates were sent from France or Spain, quite ignorant of our language, having purchased their offices, and possessing summary jurisdiction without the intervention of a
JUI7-
And the other Officials in Egypt seem, by all accounts, to
be intent only on squeezing as much profit as possible out of those placed under them, without the slightest regard to justice or to humanity. For nothing can be more erroneous than the notion that a despot, though he may himself fleece and oppress his people, will effectually prohibit others from doing so. On the contrary, he is himself continually cheated by his subordi- nates ; and they plunder and tyrannize over his people.
You are probably aware that it is on canals for carrying the Nile- water for irrigation that the cultivation of Egypt almost entirely depends. A traveller, who remarked the ill -cultivated condition of a certain district, was informed, in reply to his in- quiry, that this was from its canal not having been cleaned out for several years. This operation is essential, because else the bed soon becomes choked up with mud. The persons, it seems, whose office it is to see that the canals are duly cleaned out, receive a salary equal to about 50/. of our money. But they can make 200/. or 300/. a-year by taking bribes to report work done that has not been done. One inspector was said to have gained two thousand dollars in one year for false reports.
It was proposed to an Egyptian Viceroy to substitute for an immense number of wind-mills which grind corn for his army, a steam-mill which would perform the work at half the cost. But the proposal was not adopted, partly, it seems, because there are about 500 persons employed about the mills, well paid, and with little to do ; and partly because there are a few per- sons of great influence to whom the existing system is advan- tageous ; not more than three-quarters of the wheat that is sent
124 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [i.ect. v.
to the mills returning. Some part of the profit finds its way as hush-money to the subordinate officers ; but the greater part to those high in office.
Again, it being proposed to make a canal in a place where it was much needed, a person in high office was sent to have the ground inspected, and a report made of the cost. The engineer whom he employed sent in an estimate of 40,000 labourers for two months. But it so happened, in this case, that the scheme of peculation which had been formed was defeated by the inspection of another person in office (sent down on account of suspicions which had arisen), who ascertained that about 6000 workmen could easily complete the work in a fortnight. The engineer admitted this to him, but assured him that he had been ordered to make the estimate he did, and that he thought he might escape punishment for that falsification, while he was quite certain that if he refused, his destruction was inevitable. Of course the difference between the estimated and the real cost, had been designed to go into the pocket of the Commissioner.
All who have the superintendence of public works are authorised to press the Fellahs into the service, at a rate of wages fixed for them, and of which the far greater portion is paid them in kind ; that is, in food of the coarsest and worst description ; and they are kept to work by overseers, literally under the lash. But these are degrees of cruelty which are generally disapproved by the greater part even of the Turkish Officials. One of them was asked, on one occasion, by an- other, who was on a visit to him, whether the report was true which he had heard, of his employing a somewhat novel mode of keeping his workmen in order, by putting them be- tween two boards and sawing them asunder when they dis- pleased him. He replied by owning that he had formerly resorted to that mode, but that he had discontinued it, from finding that it " did not answer." The other observed to my informant that he could not have partaken of the man's coffee if he had been pursuing such a course ; but that as it seemed he had left it off, he had not scrupled to drink coffee with him.
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 125
As for public spirit, it is a thing which, under a despotism, is so little looked for, or believed in, that a man who evinces any, is likely to be at once suspected of some secret sinister design. For instance, a person in office, who was desirous of improving the sanitary condition of the people, and who was inclined to attribute much of the prevailing mortality to the over-crowded state of the villages, applied to have a return made out of the area and the population of each village. He was immediately dismissed from the then Viceroy's service. It was supposed impossible he could make such inquiries but from some secret evil design of his own.
It might be supposed, however, by some, that, though a despot is not always well served, such a government as that of Egypt would at least have the advantage of complete and prompt obedience from the subjects, though its commands might sometimes be harsh ; and that there would be nothing corre- sponding to that evasion or defiance of law, which sometimes occurs in free countries.
But here again the fact is at variance with such an expecta- tion. Those brought up under an arbitrary government, and accustomed to consider that, even with the most blameless con- duct, they have no security for their persons or property, — such men are found (1) to regard the government as their natural enemy, which it is right and advisable always to defeat or escape from, when possible; and (2) to become reckless of the future ; — a future which admits of no certain calculation. And they thence eagerly seize on any immediate advantage, and take their chance for what may follow.
One instance, may serve as a specimen of this. A person employed by the Viceroy to construct some docks, told my informant the following anecdote : —
" When I was making those docks, I found the expense of obtaining Puzzuoli -cement from Italy, considerable. A sample of clay fit for the purpose was brought to me, and I ascertained that it was to be found at Goures (a village on the Nile). I went thither, sent for the chief man [or Sheich] and told him
126 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
that I understood that there was in the lands of his village the clay of which I showed him a specimen. His countenance fell, and he assured me that the whole bed had been worked out. I walked over the village, and soon found that the stratum, instead of being exhausted, was, in fact, almost inexhaustible. Half the land belonging to the village consisted of it. There- upon I ordered him to provide within a fixed time a certain number of bricks. As soon as I heard that they were ready I went to look at them, but found them unburnt.
" ' We cannot,' said the Sheich, ' burn bricks in this village except when the Nile is at its lowest. At present it fills our kilns. Wc are forced to send our clay to Upper Egypt, if it is to be burnt.' I looked at his kilns, and, in fact, they were full of water. But as they stood many feet above the level of the Nile, and the Nile was then increasing, it was obvious that the water had been deposited not by the Nile, but by the villagers. It was just the trick of an Egyptian ; capable of deceiving a Turk, but no one else. ' You rascal,' I said, ' the governor of the province comes here this evening, and five minutes after you will be hanged before your own door.' These people have no pity themselves, and never believe that they shall be treated with pity. He fully expected to be hanged ; he tore his haich, he covered himself with sand, he threw himself on the ground, he kissed my shoe, and the skirt of my coat ; and when I seized him to raise him up, his hand was icy. I gave him hopes of forgiveness if the bricks were duly burnt. The next day, as I returned from looking at the preparations for heating the kilns, I found my boats full of sheep and calves and fowls. ' They are a present,' said my servant, ' from the Sheich.' He had recourse to the argument which he thought most likely to soften me ; and it was with great difficulty that I made him understand that they must be taken back."
" "Were the villagers paid for their work ?" I asked.
" They were supposed to be paid," he answered, but the appointed scale was low, and a great part — perhaps the whole of what they were entitled to — was intercepted in its progress.
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 127
The treatment of the Israelites in the time of Moses is a fair specimen of the administration which now prevails in Egypt, and probably has prevailed for the last 5000 years. Want of straw, or even want of clay would no more be admitted as an excuse by the officers of the Pasha than it was by the officers of Pharaoh. " Ye are idle, ye are idle," would be the answer.
One advantage, however, that of security, many would ex- pect to find in a despotic government. In a free country those who are disaffected to the government may be carrying on plots that are strongly suspected, or even sufficiently known, to leave no moral doubt on any one's mind, yet of which no legal proof can be obtained. Or they may keep within the letter of the law in proceedings quite contrary to the spirit of it ; and if a new Act of Parliament be passed to meet the case, they may find some new evasion of the new enactment. In an absolute monarchy, on the contrary, the least suspicion of any design against the ruler's person or power is visited with summary vengeance. And though the innocent are likely often to suffer with the guilty, it might be supposed that the guilty would have no chance of escape, and that all plots would be nipped in the bud. But the fact is otherwise ; and it confirms the Latin proverb, that " He who is feared by many must live in fear of many." ( Necesse est multos timeat, quern multi timent.)
A late Viceroy of Egypt having been found dead in his bed, it was certified by the surgeons appointed to examine the body, that he had died of apoplexy. They are believed to have re- ceived instructions to that effect from persons whom they dared not disobey. But few have any doubt that he was smothered by some of his domestics. Two men are pointed out, and well known as the perpetrators — or among the perpetrators — of the deed. But they enjoy perfect impunity, inasmuch as it had been officially and publicly stated that the death was natural. Some believe that only those two persons were concerned ; others say five. And while some attribute the act to threats which the Viceroy had uttered against these men, others think that the assassination was planned by some members of his own
128 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
family. But amidst all these conflicting opinions, all except a very few, agree that assassination did take place.
This man, however, it must be owned, was far beyond the average in point of tyranny. It is reported, that when some of the many palaces he built (for that was his passion) shall be pulled down, there will be fearful revelations made ; for he is commonly believed to have been in the habit of ordering a man to be built up within a wall. And it is certain that on one occasion he sewed up with his own hands the mouth of one of the women of his harem, and so left her to die of hunger, for having transgressed an order of his against smoking. He spoke of it himself to the person who told my informant, and who had remarked on his fingers being bloody. It is remark- able, however, that the representations, current in Europe of this monster, were far less unfavourable than what are circu- lated respecting his successor ; a Viceroy about whom there are indeed great differences of opinion, but who is allowed by all to be at least better than the other. The supposed reason of this is, that the one paid, and the other refused to pay, a large stipend to the correspondent of an influential English news- paper. If the editor of a journal be himself inaccessible to bribes, it does not follow that all his foreign agents will .be so.
But despots who govern with much less cruelty than the man just mentioned, yet generally govern so as to make their overthrow desirable to a large portion of their subjects. Tax- payers who had not ready money to pay their taxes, but only produce, paid their taxes in kind (and some, I believe, were compelled to pay in kind rather than in money), at a rate fixed by the collector, who valued their corn or other produce at about one-half of the market-price. And public creditors, many of them persons whose land had been taken from them with the promise of an annual payment in lieu of it, were paid the same number of piastres as had been originally fixed, the piastre meantime having been reduced to less than a quarter of its proper value — from about tenpence English, to about nine farthincrs.
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 129
The pressing of soldiers, also, is a dreadful hardship to many of the peasants, who have families dependent on their labour for support. My informant one day, seeing a poor woman sobbing bitterly, inquired of her the cause of her grief. She was a widow, with one daughter and one son. On his labour they had subsisted, and he being just carried off to the army, she and her daughter, she said, must starve. When my friend soon after met with a troop of recruits marching to the depot, he did not wonder to see them chained two and two.
Now, people who are thus governed are apt to think (though often very erroneously) that any change is likely to be for the better.
But whatever may be the condition of the subjects of an absolute monarchy, the Royal family — all its members — many would suppose to be kept in the enjoyment of everything that the present life can bestow. On the contrary, their lives are not safe from one another, and their domestic happiness is cruelly sacrificed. This arises in great measure from the Turkish law of succession, which makes the crown descend, not to the son necessarily of the last sovereign, but to the eldest male of the family ; often, therefore, to a brother or a nephew, if there be any older than the Sultan's or Viceroy's son. Hence the well-known practice among the Turkish rulers of cutting off their brothers ; and the total amount of royal infan- ticide that goes on is what sounds to European ears almost incredible. But it is well known that a brother or younger son of a Turkish sovereign is to have no children. A daughter, indeed, or sister of the sovereign may rear femcde children, but males must be cut off as soon as born. No issue whatever, male or female, is allowed to the brother or younger son. The unnatural law of succession is thus eluded by unnatural ex- pedients.
And of the children of the sovereign himself — often very numerous — not above one in ten, scarcely, perhaps, one in twenty, are reared. They are entrusted from infancy to the care — if such a word as care can be so applied — of persons,
W. E. K
130 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
many of whom either wish them to die, or do not care for them; and they often fall a sacrifice to wilful neglect.
With such a low tone of morality, and so little regard for human life, and without any such reference to puhlic opinion as exists among us, it may easily be understood how unsafe must be the lives of persons of high family or station, and those connected with them. Well authenticated instances indeed of persons who have been secretly made away with, it is, of course, difficult to produce, on account of that very state of things which renders such occurrences probable. It is likely that many cases of this kind which are reported are not true, and that very many more have occurred which were hardly at all suspected. Poison, there is no doubt, is not unfrequently resorted to. " One instance I " (said a friend of mine) " know of, in which there is every reason to believe poison to have been administered to a European, who narrowly escaped with life."
The expression is not uncommon of a person's having el ta- ken a cup of coffee too much." On every occasion of a visit, coffee is presented, which it would be reckoned uncivil to re- fuse ; and this affords a most favourable occasion for poisoning.
The carelessness about human life and human happiness or suffering which I have just adverted to, is one of the most curious characteristics of Oriental character, especially when contrasted with their scrupulous tenderness towards the brute creation, Bacon, in his Essay on Goodness [what in modern language is called "benevolence"], remarks that it is so essen- tial a part of Man, that when not exercised towards his fellow- men, it finds, as it were, a kind of vent towards other animals. " The Turks," says he, "are a cruel people, but yet they are kind to beasts." Two centuries and a half after Bacon's time, this is the statement given to my friend by a resident in Cairo. " The remark that Orientals are not to be judged according to European notions, is so obvious that it has become trite ; but on no point is the difference between the two minds more striking than in the respect for life.
" The European cares nothing for brute-life. He destroys
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 131
the lower animals without scruple whenever it suits his con- venience, his pleasure, or his caprice. The Mussulman pre- serves the lives of the lower animals solicitously. I say the lives; for they do sometimes ill-use their beasts of burden, though they scruple to kill, except for food or in self-defence. Though the Mussulman considers the dog impure, and never makes a friend of him, he thinks it sinful to kill him, and allows the neighbourhood, and even the streets, of his towns, to be infested by packs of masterless brutes which you would get rid of in London in one day. The beggar does not venture to destroy his vermim ; he puts them tenderly on the ground, to be caught up into the clothes of the next passer-by. There are hospitals at Cairo for superannuated cats, where they are fed at the public expense.
" But to human life he is utterly indifferent. He extinguishes it with much less scruple than that with which you shoot a horse past his work. Abbas, the last Viceroy, when a boy, had his pastrycook bastinadoed to death. Mohammed Ali mildly reproved him for it, as you would correct a child for killing a butterfly. He explained to his little grandson that such things ought not to be done without a motive.'.'
The slight sketch I have given of an Oriental system of government may perhaps have caused you to doubt how far the poet's assertion is borne out, who says —
" Of all the various ills that men endure How small the part that kings can cause or cure."
But it would be most unfair to attribute to misgovernment all — or all the most important — of the evils that are to be found in Egypt and in other Eastern countries. A large portion is the result of the gross ignorance and strange superstitions of the people ; and how far — or whether at all — the Government is responsible for that ignorance and ill-education, it would not be easy to decide.
One of the most noxious of their superstitions (as far as
k3
132 PRESENT STATE OF EttYPT. [lect. v.
regards temporal well-being) is their dread of the evil eye. The notion is very widely spread in the East, and very ancient; so as to have given a tinge to popular language. For though there is a Greek word answering to our word " envy," the New Testament writers generally use the expression of " evil eye ;" as for instance, " Is thine eye evil because I am good ? " «'.<?., " Art thou envious because I am bountiful ?"
Bacon, in his Essay on Envy, speaks of the notion as prevalent among ourselves in his time, and as one to which he did not altogether himself refuse credence.
'* There be none of the affections," he says, " which have been noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy: they both have vehement wishes ; they frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions ; and they come easily into the eye, especially upon the presence of the objects ; which are the points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be. We see likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye ; and the astrologers call the evil influences of the stars evil aspects ; so that still there seemeth to be acknowledged in the act of envy an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been so curious as to note that the times when the stroke or percussion of an evil eye doth most hurt, are when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph ; for that sets an edge upon envy ; and besides, at such times the spirits of the persons envied do come forth most into the outward parts and so meet the blow." Bacon might have added that the very word " invidere," from which our word " envy" is derived, signifies originally, casting a hostile look on some one.
" I once in Cairo," said my friend, " conversed on this
superstition with an intelligent Cairan, who described it as the
great curse of his country.
" Does the mischievous influence of the evil eye," he was
asked, " depend on the will of the person whose glance does the
mischief?"
" Not altogether," he answered : " an intention to harm may
render more virulent the poison of the glance ; but envy, or the
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 133
desire to appropriate a thing, or even excessive admiration, may render it hurtful, without the consciousness, or even against the will, of the offender. It injures most the thing that it first hits. Hence the bits of red cloth that are stuck about the dresses of women, and about the trappings of camels and horses, and the large spots of lampblack on the foreheads of children. They are a sort of conductors. It is hoped that they will attract the glance, and exhaust its venom." A fine house, fine furniture, a fine camel, and fine horse, are all enjoyed with fear and trem- bling, lest tbey should excite envy and bring misfortune. A butcher would be afraid to expose fine meat, lest the evil eye of passers-by, who might covet it, should taint it, or make it spoil, or become unwholesome.
Children are supposed to be peculiarly the objects of desire and admiration. When they are suffered to go abroad, they are intentionally dirty and ill-dressed, but generally they are kept at home, without air or exercise, but safe from admiration. This occasions a remarkable difference between the infant mortality in Europe and in Egypt. In Europe, it is the children of the rich that live ; in Egypt, it is the children of the poor. The children of the poor cannot be confined. They live in the fields. As soon as you quit the city, you see in every clover-field a group, of which the centre is a tethered buffalo, and round it are the children of its owner, with their provision of bread and water, sent thither at sunrise, and to remain there till sunset, basking in the sun, and breathing the air from the desert. The Fellah children enter their hovels only to sleep ; and that, only in the winter. In summer, the days and nights are passed in the open air ; and notwithstanding their dirt and their bad food, they grow up healthy and vigorous, except when suffering from ophthalmia, as numbers do. The children of the rich, confined by fear of the evil eye, to the harem, are puny creatures, of whom not a fourth part reaches adolescence. Achmet Pasha Jahir, one of the governors of Cairo under Mohammed Ali, had two hundred and eighty children ; only six survived him. Mohammed Ali himself had eighty-seven ; only ten were living at his death. " I believe,"
134 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
he added, " that at the bottom of this superstition is an enor- mous prevalence of envy among the lower Egyptians. You see it in all their fictions. Half of the stories told in the coffee- shops by the professional story-tellers, of which the Arabian Nights are a specimen, turn on malevolence — malevolence, not attributed, as it would be in European fiction, to some insult or injury, inflicted by the person who is its object, but to mere envy ; envy of wealth, or of the other means of enjoyment, honourably acquired and liberally used."
I ought not to omit mentioning, while on this subject, that a little son of the present Viceroy is placed under the care of an English nurse, with the express stipulation that she is to have the uncontrolled management of him. Accordingly, he is kept clean and well clad, and runs about in the open air, in defiance of the " evil eye," to the great astonishment of every one.
This superstition appears to prevail equally among the Ma- hometans and the Christians. But each class have also some of their own.
The Coptic Patriarch, in a conversation at which my in- formant was present, complained that his people who were pressed for recruits to the army, were often compelled by their comrades to become Mussulmans against their will, by forcing flesh-meat down their throats on a fast- day. They believed, he said, that this compulsory defilement cut them off finally from the christian Church ; and that they might as well become Mussulmans at once. Why does not your Holiness, it was asked, grant a dispensation for such cases ? He answered that he did ; but that his people often refused to avail themselves of it. And he mentioned an instance of a sick woman whom the physicians had ordered to take nourishing food, as essential to her recovery. The Patriarch permitted and enjoined her to do so ; but she persisted in fasting, and died.
It is curious to observe the coincidence between the supersti- tion of these poor people and that of the Hindus, who believe that a man who has a piece of beef forced down his throat, or who is tricked into tasting it, loses caste irretrievably. And the
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OP EGYPT. 135
Indian mutineers sedulously spread the false report that the British had a design thus to deprive them of their religion with- out their own consent. It does not appear that they had any dread of the missionaries ; because every one is at liberty to listen to them or not, at his own choice. But it certainly would be possible for a Government — though no British Government would ever have such a thought — to make Hindus lose caste (as Tippoo Sahib is said to have done in some instances), without their own consent. That a similar notion should prevail among any denomination of Christians with regard to their religion, is what few would have anticipated. If those poor people had been rightly instructed from their childhood, they would have learned, that, though compliance, when practicable, with the rules of their Church in matters originally indifferent, is a duty, " the kingdom of heaven," as Paul tells the Romans, "is not meat and drink but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."
But the Coptic, in which the Scriptu/es are read to the people is, as I have already mentioned, a dead language, under- stood by few, if any, of the laity, and very imperfectly, it is said, by many of the clergy.
Among the Mussulmans, one of the most hurtful supersti- tions is the Mahometan doctrine of fatalism. I say the "Ma- hometan doctrine," because this differs from the complete, consistent fatalism which teaches that all things are alike fated, the means as well as the ends, and which, therefore, does not necessarily exercise any influence on the conduct. It is told of the famous Roman stoic, Cato, that one of his slaves, who was about to be punished for stealing, endeavoured to shelter himself under the stoical doctrine of fatalism, saying that he was fated to be a thief; li and to be flogged," replied his mas- ter. One who believes that the husbandman who is fated to reap must have been fated to soiu, and that he whose destiny is to be idle is destined to starve ; who holds that if he is predes- tined to commit a murder, he is fated to be hanged for it ; such a one may be in his conduct uninfluenced by his speculative belief.
136 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
But Mahomet taught a fatalism independent of human actions. Those who have fallen in a certain battle, the Mussulman does not describe as predestined to go to the battle ; but hold that if they had stayed at home, they would have dropped down dead at the very same time.
Now it is true indeed that this doctrine is one which no one does, or can, carry out in practice thoroughly and constantly. No one doing so could live a week ; for he would not move out of the way of an advancing carriage, or sea- tide, but would say, if I am destined to be crushed or drowned, nothing can save me ; and if I am fated to escape, nothing can destroy me. But though no one constantly acts on such a principle, many of the Mussulmans do act on it very frequently, when it affords a plea for their habitual indolence and carelessness, or for following any inclination. It is well known how difficult it is to induce them to take the most obvious precautions against infectious diseases and epidemics. And, it was remarked to my informant, in re- ference to the capture of the important town of Kars, which might easily have been saved if prompt supplies had been sent to it, that the Mussulman plea for the gross neglect shown, probably was, " if Allah wills that Kars shall be taken, nothing we can do will save it, and if it is his decree that it shall stand, it will stand without our exertions." And he added instances of persons who when a crime was proved against them, calmly replied that it was the "' will of Allah."
A population, such as that of Egypt at the present day, sunk in the ignorance and superstitions that prevail, could not be at once raised into civilization and prosperity, even by the most just and benevolent and enlightened government.
But there is some hope that increased intercourse with Europeans, caused by the transit line to India, may in time benefit both the rulers and the people, and gradually cause some rays of light to penetrate the gloom, and to dispel some of the intellectual and moral darkness — even "a darkness that maybe
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 137
felt" — which overspreads the land, like that literal darkness in the days of Moses.
And no doubt such an effect would be produced in no long time, and indeed would have been perceptibly produced before now, if the Europeans in Egypt were much more like what Christians ought to be, than, unhappily a large portion of them are. Their vices, and their manifest carelessness about their own religion, constitute one of the greatest hindrances to the improvement of Egypt. Of all the European Christians resident in that country, the Italians, and still more, the Greeks, are said to bear the worst character. But I grieve to say that not a few of our own countrymen have a heavy share in this awful respon- sibility. And far worse is the professed Christian who, either in Egypt, or here, is leading an unchristian life — far worse, both in himself, and in the effects of his example on others, than the unenlightened Egyptian or Turk. Worse in himself, because he has had, and has abused greater advantages ; and " of him to whom much is given, much will be required ;" and more hurtful to others, because it is Gospel truth that his conduct tends to bring into disrepute ; even as Paul, in the Epistle to the Romans, reproaches some of his countrymen with causing " the name of God to be blasphemed among the Gentiles."
One important advantage to ourselves may be derived, I think, from the contemplation — painful as it is to a generous mind — of such a government as that of Egypt and some other countries. It may lead us to prize as we ought, with contented thankfulness, the blessings of our own Constitution. By " con- tent," I do not mean that we should abstain from seeking by legitimate means a remedy for any defects we may observe, and should aim at no improvements in any department of Government. Indeed, it is one of our chief blessings, and the glory of our constitution, that legitimate means are within our reach ; that the nation can make known its complaints, or wants or wishes, in a better mode than by insurrection or assassination. But I mean that we should not murmur at not having reached a
138 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [lect. v.
perfection beyond what can reasonably be looked for in any human institution ; that we should not complain of imaginary grievances, nor exaggerate real ones ; nor seek to subvert all that is established, because we do not find the earth converted into a Paradise.
If, on the one hand, our Government, with all its faults either in theory, or in the administration of it, be, as some are disposed to think, the best on the whole, or one of the best, that exists, or ever did exist, that is no reason why we should not seek by lawful means to render it still better. And, on the other hand, its falling short of complete perfection, is no reason why we should ungratefully shut our eyes to the benefits we do pos- sess, and which so many other nations want. To regard indeed with proud and exulting scorn, and hard-hearted self-congratula- tion, the inferiority, the defects, and the misfortunes of others, this would, no doubt, be most ungenerous. But to dwell with eagerness, with triumphant invective, and with scornful and light-hearted ridicule, on the defects, real or fictitious, of our own constitution, this shows (to say the least) a very unamiable levity of character, and tends to no good result.
I am alluding particularly to the tendency of some modern writers, such as are noticed in an able article in the Edinburgh Review ; writers who, with much wit and power of description, find amusement for themselves and their readers in the keen pursuit and exposure of everything faulty, or which can be represented as faulty, in every portion of our whole system ; exaggerating with eager delight every evil they can find, and fixing on it like a raven pouncing on a piece of carrion ; invent- ing such as do not exist, and keeping out of sight whatever is well done and unexceptionable.
The general drift of such publications is to lead to the con- clusion, that with all our boasted institutions and precautions, we are the worst governed people upon earth ; that all our preten- sions to justice or wisdom are a mere delusion ; and that our Law-courts, and Parliaments, and Public Offices of every descrip-
lect. v.J PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 139
tion, are merely a cumbrous machinery for deceiving, and plun- dering, and oppressing the people.
I am not speaking now of an occasional bitter sarcasm such as may be allowably thrown out in the course of an argumenta- tive work (designed to call serious attention to some particular abuse, or imminent danger), but of what are avowedly works of amusement, and the main staple of which is to hold up all our institutions to ridicule mixed with abhorrence, in a sort of moral pillory.
If a work of this character were put in the way of an Orien- tal despot (and, for aught I know, this may have actually been done), he would be not unlikely to say — " Since it appears, by your own showing, that, with all the troublesome machinery of judges and juries, Lords and Commons, long pleadings, and long debates, you are utterly misgoverned, and all your public men, appointed with so many forms and so much care, are continually contriving how to repress merit, and to leave business undone, your best course will be to sweep away all these things as useless incumbrances, and establish an absolute monarchy like mine. With less trouble, matters miyht go on better, and evidently could not, by your own account, go on worse." And he might add — " One advantage you would certainly gain at once ; such a writer as this I have been now reading, if he should presume to write in a similar tone about the new Government, would at once lose his head." For, during a late Viceroyalty of Egypt, several headless trunks were at one time exhibited in Cairo ; each with a label on his breast, declaring that they had made too free use of their tongues. It had been strictly forbidden to talk about the war then going on in Syria ; and these men had been guilty of telling or of asking news.
Much greater licence is used in this country, wretchedly enslaved as it is represented to be. The writers I have alluded to give us to understand that the business of the country is done very slowly and very ill ; that inventors and projectors of im- provements are always treated with insolent neglect ; that the
140 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [TiEcT. v.
Government is conducted by, and for, a few aristocratic families, whose whole public life is a constant career of personal jobs; and that judges, ministers of state, and all other officials, are in a conspiracy to defeat justice, and to shelter cruel oppressors. These are rather serious charges, which are much less true in this country, where they are freely circulated, than in several other countries where — because they are true, it would not be safe to publish them.
But these writers, many will say, and doubtless with truth, do not mean all, or half, of what they set forth. They only dress up their tales with exaggeration, to give them a piquancy for the entertain merit of their readers ; they heighten their descriptions to display their eloquence, either in the tragic or the comic vein. It is " the fool," according to Solomon, that " scattereth fire- brands, arrows, and death, and saith, am I not in sport?"
The direct and immediate tendency of such representations is towards revolution — such a revolution as is aimed at by that small number of persons who call themselves Chartists, or Christian Socialists. But it is probable that though such be the direct tendency of their representations, the practical effect on the minds of the greater part of the Public, is to render them incredulous as to real and remediable defects, and indifferent about really needful reforms. They understand that these over-wrought representations are merely for dramatic effect — that the whole is but a joke — a piece of waggery designed for present entertainment, and that there is nothing in the whole subject calling for any serious attention ; but that when we have closed the book, we have only to awake as it were from a lively dream, and go about our business with a happy conviction that the whole is unreal.
To one of these writers it would be a fair retribution, and might supply a useful lesson, that he should be visited, himself, with a horrible dream. I would wish him to dream that he was a peasant under an Oriental despotism. Let him dream that he was taxed at the arbitrary will of the sovereign, and that he had
lect. v.] PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. 141
to pay his taxes in kind, his produce being valued at about half the market price. Let him next dream that a great part of his land was taken from him, he receiving in return a rent of so many piastres ; and the piastre being afterwards reduced to one- fourth of its original value, the nominal payment remaining the same. Let him dream that he was pressed to labour, under the lash, on some public work, at low wages, of which four-fifths ■were paid in food, consisting of hard, sour biscuit. Next, let him dream, that having been robbed or defrauded by a Turk, and going to a magistrate for redress, whom he was obliged to bribe to hear his cause, he found that, after all, his opponent had bribed higher ; and that besides losing his cause, he was bas- tinadoed till he had confessed that he had brought a false charge. Then let him dream that he saw his grown-up son, on whom he had relied for the future support of the family, dragged off in chains as a conscript soldier. And lastly, let him dream that this son having deserted, and been concealed by him, both received sentence of death. On awaking, he would be inclined to doubt whether ours really is the worst possible govern- ment.
And as for those who, in Ireland, post up placards, de- nouncing as oppressive and persecuting every Government that does not allow them to oppress and persecute others, and calling on all Irishmen to follow the example of the brave Sepoys — those brave Sepoys who show their valour by torturing and mur- dering helpless women and children, but in the battle-field are always routed by a fourth part of their number of our gallant countrymen — as for those who exhort Irishmen to follow that example, by slaughtering man, woman, and child of the Saxon race, I would wish one of them to dream that he was under the rule of a Hindu Prince, to whom he had submitted on a promise of safety and protection, and who proceeded to fulfil his promise in Oriental style, by wreaking his vengeance on him for being, though not a Saxon, at least an European, and Cmost unfairly) for being a Christian ; unfairly, I say, since in everything but
142 PRESENT STATE OF EGYPT. [LECT. v.
the name, he is most emphatically im-Christian. Let him dream that he sees his wife and daughters outraged, mutilated, and tortured to death, and his infants dashed on the pavement, while he himself is being gradually and slowly hacked to pieces "by ferocious barbarians, one degree, though only one degree, less detestable than himself, inasmuch as they were brought up heathens, and do not call themselves Christians.
And when he awoke, he would probably exclaim with joy, " Thank God, it was but a dream ! Thank God, I am under a British sovereign ! "
LECTURE VL
BACON'S ESSAYS.
To treat of the works of Bacon generally, would require, — if it were not to be done in a meagre and unsatisfactory man- ner,— not one lecture, but a course of lectures, of no inconsider- able length. And even of his volume of Essays alone, to say all that would be pertinent and interesting concerning such a vast variety of subjects, and his mode of treating of them, would far exceed my present limits.
I propose, therefore, merely to lay before you a few remarks on that work generally, and on a few of the Essays in particular, taken as specimens.
Perhaps it may be thought by some to be a superfluous task to say anything at all concerning a work which has been in most people's hands for about two centuries and a-half ; and has, in that time, rather gained than lost in popularity. But there are some qualities in Bacon's writings to which it is important to direct, from time to time, especial attention, on account of a tendency often showing itself, and not least at the present day, to regard with excessive admiration writers of a completely op- posite character; — those of a mystical, dim, half-intelligible kind of affected grandeur.
It is well known what a reproach to our climate is the pre- valence of fogs, and how much more of risk and of inconveni- ence results from that mixture of light and obscurity than from the darkness of night ; but let any one imagine to himself, if he can, a mist so resplendent with gay prismatic colours, that men should forget its inconveniences in their admiration of its beauty, and that a kind of nebular taste should prevail, for preferring
144 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
that gorgeous dimness to vulgar daylight ; nothing short of this could afford a parallel to the mischief done to the public mind by some late writers both in England and America;— a sort of " Children of the Mist," who bring forward their speculations, — often very silly, and not seldom very mischievous, — under cover of the twilight. They have accustomed their disciples to admire as a style sublimely philosophical what may best be de- scribed as a certain haze of words imperfectly understood, through which some seemingly original ideas, scarcely dis- tinguishable in their outlines, loom, as it were, on the view, in a kind of dusky magnificence, that greatly exaggerates their real dimensions.
In the October number of the Edinburgh Review (p. 513), the reviewer, though evidently disposed to regard with some favour a style of dim and mystical sublimity, remarks, that " a strange notion, which many have adopted of late years, is, that a poem cannot be profound unless it is, in whole or in part, obscure; the people like their prophets to foam and speak riddles."
But the reviewer need not have confined his remark to poetry ; a similar taste prevails in reference to prose writers also. " I have ventured," says the late Bishop Copleston, in a letter published in the memoir of him by his nephew, " to give the whole class the appellation of the ' magic-Ian thorn school,' for their writings have the startling effect of that toy ; children delight in it, and grown people soon get tired of it."
One may often hear some writers of the magic-lanthorn school spoken of as possessing wonderful power, even by those who regret that this power is not better employed. " It is a pity," we sometimes hear it said, " that such and such an author does not express in simple, intelligible, unaffected English such admirable matter as his." They little think that it is the strangeness and obscurity of the style that make the power dis- played seem far greater than it is ; and that much of what they now admire as originality and profound wisdom, would appear, if translated into common language, to be mere common- place
lect. yi.-j bacon's essays. 145
matter. Many a work of this description may remind one of the supposed ancient shield, which had been found by the anti- quary, Martinus Scriblerus, and which he highly prized, in- crusted as it was with venerable rust. He mused on the splendid appearance it must have had in its bright newness; till, one day, an over-sedulous housemaid having scoured off the rust, it turned out to be merely an old pot lid.
It is chiefly in such foggy forms that the metaphysics and theology of Germany, for instance, are exercising a greater influence every day on popular literature. It has been zealously instilled into the minds of many, that Germany has something far more profound to supply than anything hitherto extant in our native literature ; though what that profound something is, seem3 not to be well understood by its admirers. They are, most of them, willing to take it for granted, with an implicit faith, that what seems such hard thinking must be very accurate and original thinking also. What is abstruse and recondite they suppose must be abstruse and recondite wisdom ; though, perhaps, it is what, if stated in plain English, they would throw aside as partly trifling truisms, and partly stark folly.
It is a remark that I have heard highly applauded, that a clear idea is generally a little idea ; for there are not a few persons who estimate the depth of thought as an unskilful eye would estimate the depth of water. Muddy water is apt to be supposed deeper than it is, because you cannot see to the bottom ; very clear water, on the contrary, will always seem less deep than it is, both from the well-known law of refraction, and also because it is so thoroughly penetrated by the sight. Men fancy that an idea must have been always obvious to every one, when they find it so plainly presented to the mind, that every one can easily take it in. An expla- nation that is perfectly clear, satisfactory, and simple, often causes the unreflecting to forget that they had needed any explanation at all.
Now Bacon is a striking instance of a genius who could w. e. L
146 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
think so profoundly, and at the same time so clearly, that an ordinary man understands readily most of his wisest sayings, and, perhaps, thinks them so self-evident as hardly to need mention. But, on re-consideration and repeated meditation, you perceive more and more what extensive and important applications one of his maxims will have, and how often it has been overlooked : and on returning to it again and again fresh views of its importance will continually open on you. One of his sayings will be like some of the heavenly bodies that are visible to the naked eye, but in which you see con- tinually more and more, the better the telescope you apply to them.
The " dark sayings," on the contrary, of some admired writers, may be compared to a fog-bank at sea, which the navigator at first glance takes for a chain of majestic moun- tains, but which, when approached closely, or when viewed through a good glass, proves to be a mere mass of unsub- stantial vapours.
A large proportion of Bacon's works has been in great measure superseded, chiefly through the influence exerted by those works themselves ; for, the more satisfactory and effectual is the refutation of some prevailing errors, and the establish- ment of some philosophical principles that had been overlooked, the less need is there to resort, for popular use, to the arguments by which this has been effected. They are like the trenches and batteries by which a besieged town has been assailed, and which are abandoned as soon as the capture has been effected. " I have been labouring," says some writer who had been engaged in a task of this kind (and Bacon might have said the same) — " I have been labouring to render myself useless." Great part, accordingly, of what were the most important of Bacon's works are now resorted to chiefly as a matter of curious and interesting speculation to the studious few, while the effect of them is practically felt by many who never read, or perhaps even heard of them.
But his Essays retain their popularity, as relating chiefly
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 147
to the concerns of e very-day life, and which, as he himself expresses it, " come home to men's business and bosom3."
To treat fully of the design and character of Bacon's greater works, and of the mistakes — which are not few or un- important— that prevail respecting them, would be altogether unsuited to this occasion. But it may be worth while to intro- duce two brief remarks on that subject.
(1.) The prevailing fault among philosophers in Bacon's time, and long before, was hasty, careless, and scanty observa- tion, and the want of copious and patient experiment. On supposed facts not carefully ascertained, and often on mere baseless conjecture, they proceeded to reason, often very closely and ingeniously; forgetting that no architectural skill in a superstructure will give it greater firmness than the foundation on which it rests ; and thus they of course failed of arriving at true conclusions ; for, the most accurate reasoning is of no avail, if you have not well-established facts and principles to start from.
Bacon laboured zealously and powerfully to recall philo- sophers from the study of fanciful systems, based on crude conjectures, or on imperfect knowledge, to the careful and judicious investigation, or, as he called it, " interrogation" and "interpretation of nature;" the collecting and properly ar- ranging of well-ascertained facts. And the maxims which he laid down and enforced for the conduct of philosophical inquiry are universally admitted to have at least greatly con- tributed to the vast progress which physical science has been making since his time.
But though Bacon dwelt on the importance of setting out from an accurate knowledge of facts, and on the absurdity of attempting to substitute the reasoning-process for an in- vestigation of nature, it would be a great mistake to imagine that he meant to disparage the reasoning-process, or to sub- stitute for skill and correctness in that, a mere accumulated knowledge of a multitude of facts. And any one would be far indeed from being a follower of Bacon who should despise logical accuracy, and trust to what is often called experience ;
l3
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meaning by that an extensive but crude and undigested ob- servation. For, as books, though indispensably necessary for a student, are of no use to one who has not learned to read, though he distinctly sees black marks on white paper, so is all experience and acquaintance with facts unprofitable to one whose mind has not been trained to read rightly the volume of nature and of human transactions spread before him.
When complaints are made — often not altogether without reason — of the prevailing ignorance of facts, on such or such subjects, it will often be found that the parties censured, though possessing less knowledge than is desirable, yet possess more than they know what to do with. Their deficiency in arranging and applying their knowledge, in combining facts, and correctly deducing, and rightly employing, general prin- ciples, will be perhaps greater than their ignorance of facts. Now, to attempt remedying this defect by imparting to them additional knowledge, — to confer the advantage of wider ex- perience on those who have not skill in profiting by experience, — is to attempt enlarging the prospect of a short-sighted man by bringing him to the top of a hill. Since he could not, on the plain, see distinctly the objects before him, the wider horizon from the hill-top is utterly lost on him.
In the tale of Sandford and Merton, where the two boys are described as amusing themselves with building a hovel, they lay poles horizontally on the top, and cover them with straw, so as to make a flat roof; of course the rain comes through ; and Master Merton proposes then to lay on more straw. But Sandford, the more intelligent boy, remarks, that as long as the roof is flat, the rain must sooner or later soak through ; and that the remedy is, to alter the building, and form the roof sloping. Now, the idea of enlightening incorrect reasoners by additional knowledge, is an error analogous to that of the flat roof. Of course knowledge is necessary ; so is straw to thatch the roof; but no quantity of materials will be a substitute for understanding how to build.
But the unwise and incautious are always prone to rush
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from an error on one side into an opposite error. And a reaction accordingly took place from the abuse of reason- ing, to the undue neglect of it, and from the fault of not sufficiently observing facts, to that of trusting to a mere ac- cumulation of ill-arranged knowledge. It is as if men had formerly spent vain labour in threshing over and over again the same straw, and winnowing the same chaff, and then their successors had resolved to discard those processes alto- gether, and to bring home and use wheat and weeds, straw, chaff, and grain, just as they grew, and without any pre- paration at all.
If Bacon had lived in the present day, I am convinced he would have made his chief complaint against unmethodized inquiry, and careless and illogical reasoning; certainly, he would not have complained of Dialectics as corrupting philo- sophy. To guard now against the evils prevalent in Ms time, would be to fortify a town against battering-rams instead of against cannon.
(2.) The other remark I would make on Bacon's greater works is, that he does not rank high as a " natural philosopher." His genius lay another way; not in the direct pursuit of physical science, but in discerning and correcting the errors of philosophers, and laying down the principles on which they ought to proceed. According to Horace's illustration, his office was not that of the razor, but the hone, " acutum reddere quse ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi."
The poet Cowley accordingly has beautifully compared Bacon to Moses,
" Who did upon the very border stand Of that fair promised land ;"
who had brought the Israelites out of Egypt, and led them through the wilderness to the entrance into the land flowing with milk and honey, which he was allowed to view from the hill-top, but not himself to enter.
It requires the master-mind of a great general to form
150 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
the plan of a campaign, and to direct aright the movements of great bodies of troops : but the greatest general may perhaps fall far short of many a private soldier in the use of the musket or the sword.
But Bacon, though far from being without a taste for the pursuits of physical science, had an actual inaptitude for it, as might be shown by many examples. The discoveries of Copernicus and Galileo, e. g., which had attracted attention before and in his own time, he appears to have rejected or disregarded.
But one of the most remarkable specimens of his inapti- tude for practically carrying out his own principles in matters connected with Physical Science, is his speculation concerning the well-known plant called misselto. He notices the popular belief of his own time, that it is a true plant, propagated by its berries, which are dropped by birds on the boughs of other trees, a fact alluded to in a Latin proverb applicable to those who create future dangers for themselves; for, the ancient Romans prepared birdlime for catching birds from the misselto thus propagated. Now this account of the plant, which has long since been universally admitted, Bacon rejects as a vulgar error, and insists on it that misselto is not a true plant, but an excrescence from the tree it grows on !
Nothing can be conceived more remote from the spirit of the Baconian philosophy than thus to substitute a random con- jecture for careful investigation: and that, too, when there actually did exist a prevailing belief, and it was obviously the first step to inquire whether this were or were not well- founded.
But rarely, if ever, do we find any such failures in Bacon's speculations on human character and conduct. It was there that his strength lay ; and in that department of philosophy it may be safely said that he had few to equal, and none to excel him.
His Essays contain many admirable specimens of this his characteristic kind of wisdom, and on a few of them, taken as
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specimens, I shall offer some brief remarks. But it may be proper to premise, in reference to the title of " Essays," that it has been considerably changed in its application since the days of Bacon. By an Essay was meant, according to the ob- vious and natural sense of the word, a slight sketch, to be filled up by the reader ; — brief hints designed to be followed out, — loose thoughts on some subject, thrown out without much regularity,- but sufficient to suggest further inquiries and re- flection. Any more elaborate, regular, and finished composition, such as in our days often bears the title of an " essay," our ancestors called a treatise, tractate, dissertation, or discourse. But the more unpretending title of " essay " has in great measure superseded those others which were formerly in use, and more strictly appropriate.
I have adverted to this circumstance, because it ought to be remembered, that an essay in the strict and original sense of the word — an essay such as Bacon's — was designed to be suggestive of further remarks and reflections, and, in short, to set the reader a thinking on the subject. With an essay in the modern sense of the word, it is not so. If the reader of what was designed to be a regular and complete treatise on some sub- ject (and which would have been so entitled by our forefathers) makes additional remarks on that subject, he may be understood to imply that there is a deficiency and imperfection — a some- thing wanting — in the work before him ; whereas to suggest such further remarks — to give outlines that the reader shall fill up for himself — is the very object of an essay properly so called, such as those of Bacon.
He is throughout, and especially in his Essays, one of the most suggestive authors that ever wrote ; and it is remarkable, that, compressed and pithy as his Essays are, and consisting chiefly of brief hints, he has elsewhere condensed into a still smaller compass the matter of most of them. In his Rhetoric, he has drawn up what he calls " Antitheta," or " common- places " — locos — pros and cons — opposite sentiments and rea- sons on various points, most of them the same that are dis-
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cussed in the Essays. It is a compendious and clear mode of bringing before the mind the most important points in any question, to place in parallel columns, as Bacon has done, what- ever can be plausibly urged, fairly or unfairly, on opposite sides ; and then you are in the condition of a judge, who has to decide some cause after having heard all the pleadings.
I will select a few examples from those Essays which cor- respond with certain heads in the Antitheta. E.g., in the Essay on Nobility (in the sense of high birth) he says — after having treated of it first as a " portion of an estate," i.e., in modern English, of an order of nobles as a part of the consti- tution : —
" As for nobility in particular persons ; it is a reverend thing to see an ancient castle, or building, not in decay, or to see a fair timber tree sound and perfect; how much more, to behold an ancient noble family, which hath stood against the waves and weathers of time ? for new nohility is but the act of power, but ancient nohility is the act of time. Those that are first raised to nobility, are commonly more virtuous, but less innocent, than their descendants ; for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture of good and evil arts : but it is reason the memory of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults die with themselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry ; and he that is not industrious, envieth him that is : besides, noble persons cannot go much higher : and he that standeth at a stay when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth the passive envy from others towards them, because they are in possession of honour. Certainly, kings that have able men of their nobility shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide into their business ; for people naturally bend to them as born in some sort to command."
Now observe how he condenses the chief part of this in his Antitheta : —
"nobilitas. " pro. " contra.
* * * " Raro ex virtute nobilitas :
" Nobilitas laurea, qua tempus rarius ex nobilitate virtus, homines coronat. " Nobility is seldom the conse-
" Nobility is the toreath with quence of virtue ; virtue, still more which Time croivns men. seldom the conseque7ice of nobility.
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" PRO.
" Antiquitatem etiarn in mo- numentis niortuis veneramur : quanto magis in vivis ?
" We reverence antiquity even in lifeless monuments, how much more in living ones ?
* * *
" Nobilitas virtutem invidiam subducit, gratiae tradit.
"Nobility withdraws virtue from envy, and commends it to favour.
" CONTRA.
" Nobiles majorum depreca- tione, ad veniam, ssepius utun- tur, quam suffragatione, ad honores.
" Persons of high birth oftener resort to their ancestors as a means of escaping punishment than as a recommendation to high posts.
" Tarda solet esse industria horainum novorura, ut nobiles prae illis tanquam status vi- deantur.
" Such is the activity of upstarts, that men of high birth seem statues in comparison.
"Nobiles in stadio respectant nimis ssepe; quod mali cursor is est.
" In running their race, men of birth look back too often, which is the mark of a bad runner.'"
Again, take a portion of the Essay on Ceremonies and Re- spects, by which he means what, in modern English, we ex- press by "conventional forms of politeness," and "rules of etiquette :"
" He that is only real had need have exceeding great parts of virtue ; as the stone had need to be rich that is set without foil : but if a man mark it well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as it is in gettings and gains ; for the proverb is true ' That light gains make heavy purses ;' for light gains come thick, whereas great com© but now and then ; so it is true, that small matters win great com- mendation, because they are continually in use and in note : whereas the occasion of any great virtue cometh but on festivals ; therefore it doth much add to a man's reputation, and is (as queen Isabella said) like perpetual letters commendatory, to have good forms. To attain them, it almost sufficeth not to despise them ; for so shall a man ob- serve them in others ; and let him trust himself with the rest ; for if he labour too much to express them, he shall lose their grace ; which is to be natural and unaffected. Some men's behaviour is like a verse, wherein every syllable is measured ; how can a man comprehend great matters that breaketh his mind too much to small observations?
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Not to use ceremonies at all is to teach others not to use them again ; and so diminish respect to himself ; especially they are not to be omitted to strangers and formal natures : but the dwelling upon them, and exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, but doth di- minish the faith and credit of him that speaks ; and, certainly, there is a kind of conveying of effectual and imprinting passages amongst compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of familiarity; and there- fore it is good to keep a little state ; amongst a man's inferiors, one shall be sure of reverence ; and .therefore it is good a little to be familiar."
Compare with this —
CEREMONI^, PDNCTI, AFFECTATIO.
" PRO.
" Si et in verbis vulgo pare- mus, quidni in habitu, et gestu ?
" If we accommodate ourselves to the vulgar in our speech, why not also in our deportment ?
" Virtus et prudentia sine punctis, velut peregrinse linguae sunt ; nam vulgo non intelli- guntur.
" Virtue and wisdom without forms of politeness are strange lan- guages, for they are not ordinarily understood.
" Puncti translatio sunt virtu- tis in linguam vernaculam.
'■'■Forms are the translation of vir- tue into the vulgar tongue.
"contra.
" Quid deformius, quam scenam in vitam transferre ?
" What can be more disgusting than to transfer the stage into com- mon life ?
" Magis placent cerussatffi buc- cse, et calamistrata coma, quam cerussati et calamistrati mores.
" Rouged cheeks and curled hair are less offensive than rouged and curled manners.™
It is worth observing in reference to this head, that the ''vernacular tongue," in which the forms of civility are ex- pressed, differs in different times and places. For instance, in Spain it is a common form of civility to ask a man to dinner, and for the other to reply, " Sure you would not think of such a thing." To accept a first or second invitation would be as great a blunder as if, among us, any one who signed himself
LECT. VI.]
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"your obedient servant" should be taken literally, and desired to perform some menial office. If a Spanish gentleman really means to ask you to dinner, he repeats the invitation a third time ; and then he is to be understood literally.
Serious errors may, of course, arise in opposite ways, by not understanding aright what is and is not to be taken as a mere complimentary form.
The Essay on Innovations is one of the most instructive; and his Antitheta on the same subject are particularly happy.
INNOVATIO.
" PRO.
" Omnis medicina innovatio.
" Every medicament is an inno- vation.
" Qui nova remedia fugit, nova mala operitiu*.
"He v)ho shuns new remedies must expect new evils.
" Novator maximus tempus : quidni igitur tempus imitemur ?
" Time is the great innovator ; why then not imitate Time f
" Morosa morum retentio, res turbulenta est, saque ac novitas.
" A stubborn adherence to old practices breeds tumults no less than novelty.
" Cum per se res mutentur in deterius, si consilio in melius non mutentur, quis finis erit mali ?
" Since things spontaneously change for the worse, if they be not by design changed for the better, evils must accumulate without end.
"contra.
" Nullus auctor placet, prseter tempus.
" One bows willingly to no au- thority but Time.
" Nulla novitas absque injuria; nam prsesentia convellit.
" Every novelty does some hurt, for it unsettles what is established.
"Quae usu obtinuere, ai non bona, at saltern apta inter se sunt.
" Things that are settled by long use, if not absolutely good, at least ft well together.
" Quis novator tempus imitatur, quod novationes ita insinuat, ut sensus fallant?
" Shew me the innovator who imitates Time, that slides in changes imperceptibly.
" Quod praeter spem evenit, cui prodest, minus acceptum ; cui obest magis molestum.
" What happens unexpectedly is, for that reason, less welcome to him whom it profits, and more galling to him whom it hurts."
When Bacon speaks of time as an " innovator," he might have remarked, by the way — what of course he well knew —
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that though this is an allowable and convenient form of ex- pression, it is not literally correct. In the words of the late Bishop Copleston (in the volume of his Remains, which I edited), " one of the commonest errors is to regard time as an agent. But in reality time does nothing, and is nothing. We use it as a compendious expression for all those causes which act slowly and imperceptibly. But, unless some positive cause is in action, no change takes place in the lapse of one thousand years; as, for instance, in a drop of water enclosed in a cavity of silex. The most intelligent writers are not free from this illusion. For instance, Simond, in his Switzerland, speaking of a mountain-scene says — ' The quarry from which the materials of the bridge came, is just above your head, and the miners are still at work ; air, water, frost, weight, and time.'' Thus, too, those politicians who object to any positive enactments affecting the Constitution, and who talk of the gentle operation of time, and of our Constitution itself being the work of time, forget that it is human agency all along which is the efficient cause. Time does nothing." Thus far Bishop Copleston.
But we are so much influenced by our own use of language, that, though no one can doubt, when the question is put before him, that effects are produced not by time, but in time, we are accustomed to represent Time as armed with a scythe, and mowing down all before him.
There is no more striking instance of the silent and im- perceptible changes brought about by what is called " time," than that of a language becoming dead. To point out the precise period at which Greek or Latin ceased to be a living language, would be as impossible as to say when a man becomes old. And much confusion of thought, and many important practical results arise from not attending to this. For ex- ample, many persons have never reflected on the circumstance that one of the earliest translations of the Scriptures into a vernacular tongue, was made by the Church of Rome. The Latin Vulgate was so called from its being in the vulgar, t. «.,
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 157
the popular language then spoken in Italy and the neigh- bouring countries ; and that version was evidently made on purpose that the Scriptures might be intelligibly read by, or read to, the mass of the people. But gradually and imper- ceptibly Latin was superseded by the languages derived from it — Italian, Spanish, and French, while the Scriptures were still left in Latin : and when it was proposed to translate them into modern tongues, this was regarded as a perilous inno- vation, though it is plain that the real innovation was that which had taken place imperceptibly, since the very object proposed by the vulgate version was, that the Scriptures might not be left in an unknown tongue. Yet you will meet with many among the fiercest declaimers against the Church of Rome, who earnestly deprecate any the slightest changes in our authorized version, and cannot endure even the gradual substitution of other words for such as have become quite obsolete, for fear of unsettling men's minds. It never occurs to them that it was this very dread that kept the Scriptures in the Latin tongue, when that gradually became a dead language.
But, universally, the removal at once of the accumulated effects gradually produced in a very long time, is apt to strike the vulgar as a novelty, when, in truth, it is only a restoration of things to their original state.
For example, suppose a clock to lose only one minute and a few seconds in the week, and to be left uncorrected for a year ; it will then have lost a whole hour ; and any one who then sets it right, will appear to the ignorant to have suddenly robbed them of that amount of time.
This case is precisely analogous to that of the change of Style. There was, in what is called the Julian Calendar (that fixed by Julius Caesar) a minute error, which made every fourth year a trifle too long ; in the course of centuries the error amounted to eleven days, and when, about a century ago, we rectified this (as had been done in Roman Catholic countries a century earlier), this mode of reckoning was called
158 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
"the new style." The Russians, who still use what is called " the old style," are now not eleven, but twelve days wrong 5 that is, they are one day further from the original position of the days of the month, as fixed in the time of Julius Caesar: and this they call adhering to the Julian Calendar.
So, also, to reject the religious practices and doctrines that have crept in by little and little since the days of the apostles, and thus to restore Christianity to what it was under them, appears to the unthinking to be forsaking the old religion and bringing in a new.
In reference to the present subject, it may be remarked as a curious circumstance, that there are in most languages pro- verbial sayings respecting it, apparently opposed to each other ; as for instance, that men are attached to what they have been used to ; that " use is a second nature ;" that they fondly cling to the institutions and practices they have been accustomed to, and can hardly be prevailed on to change them even for better ; and then, again, on the other side, that men have a natural craving for novelty ; that unvarying sameness is tiresmoe ; that some variety, — some change, even for the worse, is agree- ably refreshing, &c.
The truth is, that in all the serious and important affairs of life, men are attached to what they have been used to ; in matters of ornament, they covet novelty ; in all systems and institutions — in all the ordinary business of life — in all funda- mentals— they cling to what is the established course; in mat- ters of detail — in what lies, as it were, on the surface — they seek variety. Man may, in reference to this point, be compared to a tree whose stem and main branches stand year after year, but whose leaves and flowers are changed every season.
In most countries people like change in the fashions of their dress and furniture ; in almost all, they like new music, new poems and novels (so called in reference to this taste), pictures, flowers, games, &c, but they are wedded to what is established in laws, institutions, systems, and in all that relates to the main business of life. Every one knows how slowly and
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 159
■with what difficulty farmers are prevailed on to adopt any new system of husbandry, even when the faults of an old established usage, and the advantage of a change, can be made evident to the senses. If you ask persons of this class their reason for doing so and so, they will generally give as an answer, which they consider quite a sufficient one, " that is what^ we always do."
This distinction is one which it may often be of great im- portance to keep in mind. For instance, the ancient Romans and other Pagans seldom objected to the addition of a new god to their list ; and it is said that some of them actually did pro- pose to enrol Jesus among the number. This was quite con- sonant to the genius of their mythological system. But the overthrow of the whole system itself, and the substitution of a fundamentally different religion, was a thing they at first regarded with alarm and horror ; all their feelings were en- listed against such a radical change. And any one who should imagine that the Gospel could be received with some degree of favour on account of its being new, because, forsooth, men like novelties, and that, therefore, something short of the most overpowering miraculous proofs might have sufficed for its introduction and spread, such a person must have entirely overlooked the distinction between the kinds of things in which men do or do not favor what is new.
And the like holds good in all departments of life. New medicines, for instance, come into vogue from time to time, with or without good reason; but a fundamentally new system of medicine, whether right or wrong, is sure to have the strongest prejudices enlisted against it. If when the celebrated Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, he had, on the ground that people often readily introduced some new medi- cine, calculated on a favorable reception, or even a fair hearing for his doctrine, which went to establish a fundamental revo- lution, he would soon have been undeceived by the vehement and general opposition with which he was encountered.
And it was the physicians of the highest standing that
160 bacon's ESSAYS. [LECT. j£
most opposed Harvey. It was the most experienced naviga- tors that opposed Columbus' views. It was those most con- versant with the management of the Post-office, that were the last to approve of the plan of the uniform penny-postage. For, the greater any one's experience and skill in his own department, and the more he is entitled to the deference which is proverbially due to each man in his own province [" peritis credendum est in arte sua"], the more likely, indeed, he will be to be a good judge of improvements in details, or even to introduce them himself; but the more tmlikely to give a fair hearing to any proposed radical change. An experienced stage-coachman is likely to be a good judge of all that relates to turnpike roads and coach -horses ; but you should not consult him about railroads and steam-carriages.
True it is that great and sudden and violent changes do take place — that ancient institutions have been recklessly over- thrown— that sanguinary revolutions have taken place in quick succession, and that new schemes, often the most wild and extravagant, both in civil and religious matters, have been again and again introduced. We need not seek far to find countries that have had, within the memory of persons now living, not less than nine or ten perfectly distinct systems of government. But no changes of this kind ever originate in the mere love of change for its own sake. Never do men adopt a new form of government, or a new system of religion, merely from that delight in variety which leads them to seek new amusements, or to alter the fashion of their dress. They seek changes in what relates to serious matters of fundamental importance, only through the pressure of severe suifering, or of some vehement want, or, at least, from the perception of some great evil or deficiency. Widely as the vulgar are often mistaken as to the causes of any distress, or as to the remedies to be sought, the distress itself is real, when they aim at any great revolution. If an infant beats its nurse, although its acts are as irrational as those of a mad dog, you may be assured that it is really in pain. And when men are suffering from a
lect. \x.J BACON'S ESSAYS. 161
famine or pestilence, though it is absurd for them to seek to obtain relief by establishing a new kind of senate or parliament, or by setting up a dictator, or by slaughtering all people of property, still the evil itself is real, and is keenly felt ; and it is that, and not a mere love of change, for change-sake, that drives them to take the most irrational steps. And when evils are really occasioned by absurd and oppressive laws and ty- rannical governments, it is right and rational to aim at a change, though the changes which an infuriated populace does bring about will usually be both irrational and wrong — will overthrow the good along with the evil — and will be pregnant with worse evils than they seek to remedy. The ancient despotism of France, detestable as it was, did not cause more misery in a century than the Reign of Terror did in a year. And, universally, the longer and the more grievously any people have been oppressed, the more violent and extravagant will be the reaction. And the people will often be in the condition of King Lear, going to and fro between his daughters, and de- prived first of half his attendants, then of half the remainder, then of all.
Hence, though it is true that innovations in important matters are never sought through mere love of change for its own sake, but for relief from some evil, the danger is not the less, of rash and ill-advised innovations ; because evils, greater or less, and more or less of imperfection, always do exist in all human institutions administered by fallible men.
And what is more, there is seldom any kind of evil that does not admit of a complete and effectual remedy, if we are careless about introducing some different, and, perhaps, greater evil in its place. It is seldom very difficult to dam up a stream that incommodes us ; only we should remember that it will then force for itself a new channel, or else spread out into an unwholesome marsh. The evils of contested elections, the bribery, the intimidation, and the deception which they often give rise to, are undeniable; and they would be com- pletely cured by suppressing the House of Commons altogether, w. E. M
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or making the seats in it hereditary ; but we should not be gainers by the exchange. There are evils belonging speci- fically to a pure monarchy, and to an oligarchy, and to a democracy, and to a mixed government: and a change in the form of government would always remedy one class of evils, and introduce another. And under all governments, civil and ec- clesiastical, there are evils arising from the occasional incapacity or misconduct of those to whom power is entrusted ; evils which might be at once remedied by introducing the far greater evil of anarchy, and leaving every man to " do as is right in his own eyes." There are inconveniences again from being governed by fixed laws, which must always bear hard on some particular cases ; but we should be no gainers by leaving every judge to act like a Turkish Cadi entirely at his own discretion. And the like holds good in all departments of life.
Bacon's maxim, therefore, is most wise, to " make a stand upon the ancient way, and look about us to discover what is the best way;" neither changing at once, anything that is established, merely because of some evils actually existing, without con- sidering whether we can substitute something that is on the whole better ; nor again, steadily rejecting every plan or system that can be proposed, till one can be found that is open to no objections at all. For, nothing framed or devised by the wit of Man ever was, or can be, perfect ; and therefore to condemn and reject everything that is imperfect, and has some evils attending on it, is a folly which may lead equally — and indeed often has led — to each of two opposite absurdities : either an obstinate adherence to what is established, however bad, because nothing absolutely unexceptionable can be substituted ; or again, a perpetual succession of revolutions till we can establish — which is totally impossible — some system completely faultless.
The obvious dictate of common sense is to compare and weigh together the advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and then decide accordingly.
It is quite certain that whatever is established and already existing has a presumption on its side ; that is, the burden of proof
lect. vi.l bacon's essays. 163
lies on those who propose a change. No one is called on to bring reasons against any alteration, till some reasons have been offered for it. But the deference which is thus claimed for old laws and institutions is sometimes extended (through the ambiguity of language — the use of "old" for "ancient") to what are called " the good old times ;" as if the world had formerly been older, instead of younger, than it is now. But it is manifest that the advantage possessed by old men — that of long experience — must belong to the present Age more than to any preceding.
The two kinds of absurdity which I have just adverted to — a blind impatience for auy novelty that seems to promise fair, and an equally blind repugnance to any change, however need- ful— may be compared respectively to the acts of two kinds of irrational animals, a moth, and a horse. The moth rushes into a flame and is burned ; and the horse obstinately stands still in a stable that is on fire, and is burned likewise. One may often meet with persons of opposite dispositions, though equally un- wise, who are accordingly prone respectively to these opposite errors ; the one partaking more of the character of the moth, and the other of the horse.
I will conclude my remarks on this head by referring to the homely old proverb, a " tile in time saves nine." A house may stand for ages if some very small repairs and alterations are promptly made from time to time as they are needed ; whereas if decay is suffered to go on unheeded, it may become necessary to pull down and rebuild the whole house. The longer any need- ful reform is delayed, the greater and the more difficult, and the more sudden, and the more dangerous and unsettling, it will be. And then, perhaps, those who had caused this delay by their pertinacious resistance to any change at all, will point to these evils — evils brought on by themselves — in justification of their conduct. If they would have allowed a few broken slates on the roof to be at once replaced by new ones, the timbers would not have rotted, nor the walls, in consequence, leaned, nor would the house have thence needed to be demolished and rebuilt.
M 3
164 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
To say that no changes shall take place is to talk idly. We might as well pretend to control the motions of the earth. To resolve that none shall take place except what are undesigned and accidental, is to resolve that though a clock may gain or lose indefinitely, at least we will take care that it shall never be regulated.
Most wise, therefore, is Bacon's admonition, to copy the great innovator time, by vigilantly watching for, and promptly counteracting the first small insidious approaches of decay, and introducing gradually, from time to time, such small improve- ments (individually small, but collectively great) as there may be room for, and which will prevent the necessity of violent and sweeping reformations.
Few of you, probably, are likely ever to be called on to take part in the reformation of any public institutions. But there is no one of us but what ought to engage in the important work of se//"-reformation. And according to the well-known proverb, " If each would sweep before his own door, we should have a clean street." Some may have more, and some less, of dust and other nuisances to sweep away ; some of one kind and some of another. But those who have the least to do, have something to do ; and they should feel it an encouragement to do it, that they can so easily remedy the beginnings of small evils before they have accumulated into a great one.
Begin reforming, therefore, at once : proceed in reforming, steadily and cautiously ; and go on reforming for ever.
Far ahead of his Age as Bacon was, it would be too much to expect of any one not gifted with infallibility to have been wholly free from the prejudices prevalent in his time.
Besides a tendency, apparent in many places, towards an undue depreciation of Aristotle, which was a natural reaction from the excessive, absurd, and almost idolatrous veneration that had long been paid, chiefly to the least valuable of his works, Bacon was also, in a certain degree, infected with the vulgar errors of that Age.
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 165
For instance, in his Essay on the Greatness of ICing- doms, he speaks of aggressive wars with a view to extension of empire, and of seeking plausible pretexts for them, in a style which not even a Russian would venture to use in these days. Bad as men's practice still is, the sentiments they express are happily much more conformable to justice : and as it is the character of right theory to be always somewhat ahead of right practice, we may cherish a hope that the conduct of States is (though as yet very backward) in a way to improve.
Bacon's view of war as a kind of healthful exercise for a nation, was that of his times, and of times not only long before, but long after his day. I wish we could say that such a view has never been put forth in the present generation. But we may say that the doctrine is one which very few military, and still fewer non-military men would, now, venture to maintain.
And if the happy time should ever arrive that there should be no more wars of aggression, all wars would cease, since there can be none without an aggressor. If indeed some one, or some two or three States should practically adopt the doctrine of the unlawfulness of self-defence, wars would be likely to increase, since any such State would at once be taken under the protection of some unscrupulous conqueror, like a flock of sheep left to the mercy of a wolf; he would seize on their country, when he found that he could do so with impunity, and take their children as conscripts, to be trained as his soldiers for fresh conquests. But if some States steadily renounce wars of conquest, while yet prepared to maintain their own independence, their example may be followed by others ; and when such a system shall have become universal, the question about the lawfulness of self- defence will have become a purely speculative one ; since there will no longer be any aggression to repel.
Again, in the Essay on Seditions and Tumults, he falls into the error which always prevails in the earlier stages of civilization, and which accordingly was more prevalent in his Age than in ours — that of over-governing.
166 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
It may be reckoned a kind of puerility: for you will generally find young persons prone to it, and also those legis- lators who lived in the younger, i.e., the earlier ages of the world. They naturally wish to enforce by law everything that they consider to be good, and forcibly to prevent men from doing anything that is unadvisable. And the amount of mischief is incalculable that has been caused by this meddlesome kind of legislation. For not only have such legislators been, as often, as not, mistaken, as to what really is beneficial or hurtful, but also when they have been right in their judgment on that point, they have often done more harm than good by attempting to enforce by law what had better he left to each man's own discretion.
As an example of the first kind of error, may be taken the many efforts made by the legislators of various countries to re- strict foreign commerce, on the supposition that it would be advantageous to supply all our wants ourselves, and that we must be losers by purchasing anything from abroad. If a weaver were to spend half his time in attempting to make shoes and furniture for himself, or a shoemaker to neglect his trade while endeavouring to raise corn for his own consumption, they would be guilty of no greater folly than has often been, and in many instances still is, forced on many nations by their govern- ments ; which have endeavoured to withdraw from agriculture to manufactures a people possessing abundance of fertile land, or who have forced them to the home cultivation of such articles as their soil and climate are not suited to, and thus compelled them to supply themselves with an inferior commodity at a greater cost.
On the other hand, there is no doubt that early hours are healthful, and that men ought not to squander their money on luxurious feasts and costly dress, unsuited to their means ; but when governments thereupon undertook to prescribe the hours at which men should go to rest, requiring them to put out their lights at the sound of the curfew-bell, and enacted sumptuary laws as to the garments they were to wear, and the dishes of meat they were to have at their tables, this meddling kind of
ijsct. vi.] bacon's essays. 167
legislation was always found excessively galling, and moreover entirely ineffectual ; since men's dislike to such laws always pro- duced contrivances for evading the spirit of them.
Bacon, however, was far from always seeing his way rightly in these questions; which is certainly not to be wondered at, considering that we who live three centuries later have only just emerged from thick darkness into twilight, and are far from having yet completely thrown off those erroneous notions of our forefathers.
Bacon in that Essay I have just alluded to, advocates sump- tuary laws, — the regulating of prices by law (which, by the way, still existed in the memory of most of us, with respect to bread) — legislation against engrossing of commodities (an error which has only very lately been exploded), and prohibiting the laying down of land in pasture — with other such puerilities as are to be found in the earlier laws of most nations.
In his Essay on Usury he does not go the whole length of the prejudices existing in his time, though he partakes of them in a great degree. In his day, and long before, there were many who held it absolutely sinful to receive any interest for money, on the ground of the prohibition of it to the Israelites in their dealings with each other; though the Mosaic law itself proves the contrary, since it allows lending at interest to a stranger; and certainly the Israelites were not permitted to oppress and defraud strangers.
Bacon, however, is for tolerating usury, on the ground that men are so hard-hearted, that they will not lend without in- terest. It never occurred to him, seemingly, that no one is called hard-hearted for not letting his land or his house rent free, or for requiring to be paid for the use of his horse, or his ship, or any other kind of property. It may seem strange that Bacon should not have perceived — but it is far more strange that legis- lators in the nineteenth century should not have perceived — that there is no essential difference between the use of any other kind of property, and money, which represents, and is equivalent to, any and all kinds.
168 BACON'S ESSAYS. J_lect- vi.
One man, for example, invests his money in building a ship, or manufactory, and engages in commerce or in manufactures himself; a second builds the ship or the mill, and lets it to a merchant or a manufacturer who understands that kind of busi- ness better than he does ; and a third lends the money to a merchant or a manufacturer to build for himself in the way that will best suit his purpose. It is plain there can be no difference, morally, between those three ways of investing capital.
No doubt advantage is often taken of a man's extreme necessity, to demand high interest, and exact payment with rigour. But it is equally true that advantage is taken in some crowded town of a man's extreme need of a night's lodging. And the interposition of the law in dealings between man and man, except for the prevention of fraud, generally increases the evil it seeks to remedy. A prohibition of interest, or — which is only a minor degree of the same error — a prohibition of any beyond a certain fixed rate of interest — has an efiect similar to that of a like interference between the buyers and sellers of any other commodity. If, for example, in a time of scarcity it were enacted, on the ground that cheap food is desirable, that bread and meat should not be sold beyond such and such a price, the result would be that every one would be driven — unless he would sub- mit to be starved — to evade the law ; and he would have to pay for his food more than he otherwise would, to cover (1) the cost of the contrivances for the evasion of the law, and (2) a com- pensation to the seller for the risk, and also for the discredit, of that evasion. Even so, a man who could have borrowed money (which he needs, to extricate him from some difficulty) at ten per cent., if all dealings were left free, has to pay for it, virtually fifteen or twenty per cent, through some circuitous process.
But of all unwise interferences of governments, by far the most noxious, and also the most plausible, and the hardest to be got rid of, is religious intolerance. And this Bacon discount- enances in his Essay on Religious Unity, protesting against the " forcing of men's consciences." I am not quite sure, how- ever, whether he fully embraced the principle that all secular
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 169
coercion, small or great, in what regards religious faith, is con- trary to the spirit of Christianity ; and that a man's religion, as long as he conducts himself as a peaceable and good citizen, does not fall within the province of the civil Magistrate. Bacon speaks with just horror of " sanguinary persecutions." Now any laws that can properly be called " sanguinary " — any undue severity — should be deprecated in all matters whatever; as if,- for example, the penalty of death should be denounced for steal- ing a pin. But if religious truth does properly fall within the province of the civil magistrate — if it be the office of govern- ment to provide for the good of the subjects, universally, in- cluding that of their souls, the rulers can have no more right to tolerate heresy, than theft or murder. They may plead that the propagation of false doctrine, — that is, what is contrary to what they hold to be true, — is the worst kind of robbery, and is a murder of the soul. On that supposition, therefore, the degree of severity of the penalty denounced against religious offences, whether it shall be death, or exile, or fine, or imprison- ment, or any other, becomes a mere political question, just as in the case of the penalties for other crimes.
But if, on the contrary, we are to understand and comply with, in the simple and obvious sense, our Lord's injunction to " render to Caesar the things that are Csesar's, and to God the things that are God's;" and his declaration that his "kingdom is not of this world;" and if we are to believe his apostles sincere in renouncing, on behalf of themselves and their followers, all design of propagating their faith by secular force, or of monopo- lizing for Christians as such, or for any particular denomination of Christians, secular power and political rights, then, all penal- ties and privations, great or small, inflicted on purely religious grounds, must be equally of the character of persecution (though all are not equally severe persecution), and all alike unchristian. Persecution, in short, is not wrong because it is cruel ; but it is cruel because it is wrong.
In the Essay on Plantations [colonies] Bacon remarks most justly that " it is a shameful and unblessed thing to
170 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men to be the people with whom you plant;" and he adds that "it spoileth the plantation." Yet two and a-half centuries after his time, the English government, in opposition to the re- monstrances of the enlightened and most emphatically ex- perienced philanthropist, Howard, established its penal colonies *in Australia, and thus, in the language of Shakspeare, " began an impudent nation."
It is now above a quarter of a century since I began point- ing out to the public the manifold mischiefs of such a system; and with Bacon and Howard on my side, I persevered in braving all the obloquy and ridicule that were heaped on me. But successive ministries, of the most opposite political parties, agreed in supporting what the most eminent Political econo- mist of the present day had described as " a system begun in defiance of all reason, and persevered in in defiance of all experience."
Again, in the Essay on Praise, he says —
" Praise is the reflection of virtue, but it is as the glass, or body, which giveth the reflection; if it be from the common people, it is commonly false and naught, and rather followeth vain persons than virtuous : for the common people understand not many excellent virtues : the lowest virtues draw praise from them, the middle virtues work in them astonishment or admiration ; but of the highest virtues they have no sense or perceiving at all ; but shows and ' species vir- tutibus similes' serve best with them. Certainly, fame is like a river, that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and solid : but if persons of quality and judgment concur, then it is (as the scripture saith) 'Nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis ;' it filleth all round about, and will not easily away; for the odours of ointments are more durable tban those of flowers."
" LAUS, EXISTIMATIO. " PRO. " CONTRA.
" Virtutis radii reflexi laudes. " Fama deterior judex, quam
" Praises are the reflected rays of nuncia.
virtue. " Common fame is a bad mes-
" Laus honor is est, ad quern senger, but a worse judge. liberis suffragiis pervenitur.
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 171
"PRO. " CONTRA.
" Praise is that kind of honor " Fama veluti fluvius, levia at-
which is conferred by free votes. tollit. solida mergit.
" Honores diverse a diversis " Fame, like a river, bears up
politiis conferuntur ; sed laudes what is light, and sinks what is solid. ubique sunt libertatis. " Infimarum virtutum apud
" Honors are conferred differently vulgus laus est, mediarmn ad-
indifferent governments; but praises, rniratio, supremarum sensus nul-
every where by popular suffrage. lus.
* * * " The lowest of the virtues the
" Ne mireris, si vulgus verius vulgar praise ; the middle ones they
loquatur, quam honoratiores ; admire ; of the highest they have no
quia etiam tutius loquitur. perception"
" It is no wonder that the vulgar sometimes speak more truly than those of high place, because they speak more safely.
What a pregnant remark is this last ! By the lowest of the virtues he means probably such as hospitality, liberality, gra- titude, good-humoured courtesy, and the like; and these he says the common run of mankind are accustomed to praise. Those which they admire, such as daring courage, and firm fidelity to friends, or to the cause or party one has espoused, are what he ranks in the next highest place. But the most elevated virtues of all, such as disinterested and devoted public spirit, thorough-going even-handed justice, and disregard of unpopularity when duty requires, of these he says the vulgar have usually no notion. And he might have gone further; for it often happens that a large portion of mankind not only do not praise or admire the highest qualities, but even censure and despise them. Cases may occur in which, though you may obtain the high approbation of a very few persons of the most refined and exalted moral sentiments, you must be prepared to find the majority (even of such as are not altogether bad men) condemning you as unnatural, unkind, faithless, and not to be depended on ; or deriding you as eccentric, crotchety, fanciful, or absurdly scrupulous.
And this is the more likely to occur, because there are many cases in which the same conduct may result either from
172 BACON'S ESSAYS. [LECt. vi.
the very highest motive, or from a base one ; and then, those of the noblest character, and who are also cautious and intelligent, will judge from your general conduct and character which mo- tive to assign ; while those who are themselves strangers to the highest principle, will at once attribute your acts to the basest. For example, if you shrink from some daring or troublesome undertaking which is also unjustifiable, this may be either from cowardice or indolence, or from scrupulous integrity : and the worse motive will be at once assigned by those who have no notion of the better. If you are tolerant in religion, this may be either from utter carelessness, like Gallio's, or from a perception of the true character of the Gospel : and those who want this latter, will be sure to attribute to you at once the other. If you decline supporting a countryman against foreigners when they have right on their side, or a friend against a stranger, this may be either from indifference to your country, or your friend, or from a strong love of justice ; and those who have but dim views of justice will at once set you down as unpatriotic or unfriendly. And so in many other cases.
If, accordingly, you refuse to defend, or to deny, or to palliate the faults of those engaged in a good cause, and if you are ready to bear testimony to whatever there may be that is right on the opposite side, you will be regarded by many as treacherous, or lukewarm, or inconsistent.
If you advocate toleration for an erroneous faith, and pro- test against forcing or entrapping, or bribing any persons into the profession of a true one, many will consider you as yourself either tainted with error, or indifferent about religious truth. If, again, you consider a seat in Parliament, or any other place you may occupy, or the power of appointing another to such a place, as a sacred trust for the public service, and, therefore, requiring sometimes the sacrifice of private friendship, — if you do justice to an opponent against a friend, or to a worse man (when he happens to have right on his side) against a better — if you refuse to support your friends, or those you have been
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 173
accustomed to act with, or those to whom you have a per- sonal obligation, when they are about doing something that is wrong, — if you decline making application in behalf of a friend to those who would expect you to place your votes and interest at their disposal, whether your own judgment approved of their measures or not, — in these and other such cases, you will be perhaps more blamed or despised by the generality than commended or admired. For, party-men will usually pardon a zealous advocate of their party for many great faults, more readily than they will pardon the virtue of standing quite aloof from party, and doing strict justice to all. It will often happen, therefore, that when a man of very great real ex- cellence does acquire great and general esteem, four-fifths of this will have been bestowed on the minor virtues of his cha- racter ; and four-fifths of his admirers will have either quite overlooked the most truly admirable of his qualities, or else regarded them as pardonable weaknesses.
You should guard, then, against the opposite dangers of either lowering your own moral standard to the level of some of your neighbours, or judging too hardly of them. Your general practical rule should be, to expect more of yourself than of others. Not that you should ever call wrong conduct right ; but you should consider that that which would be a very great fault in you, may be much less inexcusable in some others who have not had equal advantages. You should be ready to make allowances for want of clearness of understanding, or for defective education, or for a want of the highest and best examples. Those may be really trying to do their duty according to the best lights they have, whose moral views are, on some points, as yet but dim and im- perfect, and whose conduct, on the whole, falls far short of what may fairly be expected — and will be expected — of one whose moral judgment is more enlightened, and his standard of duty more elevated.
In the Essay on Custom and Education, Bacon makes a remark, which like very many others, he has elsewhere con-
174 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
densed in Latin into a very brief and pithy Apophthegm: "Cogitamus secundum Naturam; loquimur secundum prae- cepta ; sed agimus secundum consuetudinem." " We think ac- cording to our nature ; we speak as we have been instructed ; but we act as we have been accustomed ;" or, as he has a little more expanded it in the Essay, " Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination [original disposition] ; their discourse and speeches, according to their learning and infused opinions ; but their deeds are after as they have been accustomed."
Of course, Bacon did not mean his words to be taken literally in their utmost extent, and without any exception or modifica- tion ; as if natural disposition, and instruction, had nothing to do with conduct. And, of course, he could not mean anything so self-contradictory as to say that all action is the result of custom : for, it is plain that, in the first instance, it must be by actions that a custom is formed.
But he uses a strong expression, in order to impress it on our mind that, for practice, custom is the most essential thing, and that it will often overbear both the original disposition, and the precepts which have been learnt : that whatever a man may inwardly think, and (with perfect sincerity) say, you cannot fully depend on his conduct till you know how he has been accus- tomed to act. For, continued action is like a continued stream of water, which wears for itself a channel JfodX it will not easily be turned from. The bed which the current had gradually scooped at first, afterwards confines it.
Bacon is far from meaning, I conceive, when he says that " men speak as they have learned " — to limit himself to the case of insincere professions ; but to point out how much easier it is to learn to repeat a lesson correctly, than to bring it into prac- tice, when custom is opposed to it.
This is the doctrine of one whom Bacon did not certainly regard with any undue veneration — Aristotle, who in his Ethics, dwells earnestly on the importance of being early accustomed to right practice, with a view to the formation of virtuous habits. And he derives the word "Ethics," from a
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 175
Greek word signifying custom ; even as the word " Morality " is derived from the corresponding Latin word " Mos."
The power of custom in often, as Bacon remarks, prevailing, when you come to action, over the inward sentiments, and the sincere professions of opinion, is remarkably exemplified in the case of soldiers, who have long been habituated to obey, as if by a mechanical impulse, the word of command.
It happened, in the case of a contemplated insurrection in a certain part of the British Empire, that the plotters of it sought to tamper with the soldiers who were likely to be called out against them ; and, for this purpose, frequented the public- houses to which the soldiers resorted, and drew them into con- versation. Reports of these attempts reached the officers ; who, however, found that so little impression was made that they did not think it needful to take any notice of them. On one occa- sion it appeared that a serjeant of a Scotch regiment was so far talked over as to feel and express great sympathy with the agi- tators, on account of their alleged grievances, as laid before him by the seducer. " Weel, now, I did na ken that ; indeed that seems unco hard ; I can na wonder that ye should complain o' that," &c, &c.
The other, seeking to follow up his blow, then said — " I suppose now such honest fellows as you, if you were to be called out against us, when we were driven to rise in a good cause, would never have the heart to fire on poor fellows who were only seeking liberty and justice." The serjeant replied (just as he was reaching down his cap and belt, to return to barracks), " Vd just na advise ye to try ! "
He felt conscious — misled as he had been respecting the justice of the cause, — that, whatever might be his private opinions and inward feelings, if the word of command were given to " make ready, present, fire," he should instinctively obey it.
And this is very much the case with any one who has been long drilled in the ranks of a party. Whatever may be his natural disposition — whatever may be the judgment his un-
176 bacon's ESSAYS. [LECT. vi.
biassed understanding dictates on any point — whatever he may inwardly feel, and may (with perfect sincerity) have said, when you come to action, it is likely that the habit of going along with his party will prevail. And the more general and indefinite the purpose for which the party, or society (or by whatever name it may be called) is framed, and the less distinctly specified are its objects, the more will its members be, usually, under the control and direction of its leaders.
I was once conversing with an intelligent and liberal-minded man, who was expressing his strong disapprobation of some late decisions and proceedings of the leading persons of the Society he belonged to, and assuring me that the greater part of the subordinates regarded them as wrong and unjustifiable. " But," said I, " they will nevertheless, I suppose, comply, and act as they are required ? " " Oh yes, they mast do that ! "
Of course, there are many various degrees of partizanship, as there are also different degrees of custom in all other things : and it is not meant that all who are in any degree connected with any party must be equally devoted adherents of it. But I am speaking of the tendency of party-spirit, and describing a party-man so far forth as he is such. And persons of much ex- perience in human affairs lay it down accordingly as a maxim, that you should be very cautious how you fully trust a party- man, however sound his own judgment, and however pure the principles on which he acts, when left to himself. A sensible and upright man, who keeps himself quite unconnected with party, may be calculated on as likely to act on the views which you have found him to take on each point. In some things, per- haps, you find him to differ from you ; in others to agree ; but when you have learnt what his sentiments are, you know in each case what to expect. But it is not so with one who is connected with, and consequently controlled by, a party. In proportion as he is so, he is not fully his own master ; and in some instances you will probably find him take you quite by surprise, by as- senting to some course quite at variance with the sentiments which you have heard him express — probably with perfect sin-
lect. vi.] bacon's essays. 177
cerity — as his own. When it comes to action, a formed habit of following the party will be likely to prevail over everything. At least, " Pdjust na advise ye to try!"
I wish I could feel justified in concluding without saying anything of Bacon's own character ; — without holding him up as himself a lamentable example of practice at variance with good sentiments, and sound judgment, and right precepts. He thought well, and he spoke well ; but he had accustomed himself to act very far from well. And justice requires that he should be held up as a warning beacon to teach all men an important lesson ; to afford them a sad proof that no intellectual power, — no extent of learning, — not even the most pure and exalted moral sentiments confined to theory, will sup- ply the want of a diligent and watchful conformity in practice to christian principle. All the attempts that have been made to vindicate or palliate Bacon's moral conduct, tend only to lower, and to lower very much, the standard of virtue. He appears but too plainly to have been worldly, ambitious, covetous, base, selfish, and unscrupulous. And it is remarkable that the Mam- mon which he served proved but a faithless master in the end. He reached the highest pinnacle, indeed, to which his ambition had aimed ; but he died impoverished, degraded, despised, and broken-hearted. His example, therefore, is far from being at all seductive.
But let no one, thereupon, undervalue or neglect the lessons of wisdom which his writings may supply, and which we may, through divine grace, turn to better account than he did him- self. It would be absurd to infer, that because Bacon was a great philosopher, and far from a good man, therefore you will be the better man for keeping clear of his philosophy. His in- tellectual superiority was no more the cause of his moral failures, than Solomon's wisdom was of his. You may be as faulty a character as either of them was, without possessing a particle of their wisdom, and without seeking to gain instruction from it. The intellectual light which they enjoyed did not, in- "W. E. N
178 BACON'S ESSAYS. [lect. vi.
deed, keep them in the right path ; but you will not be the more likely to walk in it, if you quench any light that is af- forded you.
The Canaanites of old, you should remember, dwelt in " a good land, flowing with milk and honey," though they wor- shipped not the true God, but served abominable demons, with sacrifices of the produce of their soil, and even with the blood of their children. But the Israelites were invited to go in, and take possession of " well-stored houses that they builded not, and wells which they digged not ; " and they " took the labours of the people in possession ;" only, they were warned to beware lest, in their prosperity and wealth, they should " forget the Lord their God," and to offer to Him the first-fruits of their land.
Neglect not, then, any of the advantages of intellectual cul- tivation which God's providence has placed within your reach ; nor " think scorn of that pleasant land ;" and prefer wandering by choice in the barren wilderness of ignorance ; but let the intellect which God has endowed you with be cultivated as a servant to Him, and then it will be, not a master, but a useful servant, to you.
LECTURE VII.
THE JEWS.
If any educated and intelligent person were asked what is the most extraordinary nation that exists, or ever did exist, on earth, he could hardly fail to answer that it is the People commonly called Jews. Whether he were a Christian, or of any other religious persuasion, or of none at all, he could not but know that some most wonderful events have taken place in that nation, and that they are now, and long have been, in an extraordinary situation, quite different from that of any other people. Moreover, the oldest book, by far, that exists, relates in a very great degree to that people. And even if any one should refuse to give any credit to the narratives in that book, he must still admit that something not less wonderful than what is there recorded must have befallen them. Should he give a loose to his imagination, and frame conjectures as to what might have occurred, according to his notions of the probable, he would be unable to devise any history that should not abound in wonders.
And again, the history of this People is, in a most impor- tant point, closely connected with our own, and with that of the whole civilized world. A believer and an unbeliever, in the Gospel, cannot but agree in admitting that the christian reli- gion does exist, and that it is with Jews that it originated. If any one, not ignorant of history, were asked WHO was the most remarkable person that ever existed, and who produced the most important, and wonderful, and lasting changes in the world, he could hardly fail — even though he were an Atheist — to answer, that Jesus of Nazareth was that person. Rightly or wrongly,
n 3
180 THE JEWS.
[lect. VII.
a Jew did change the religion of all the most enlightened portion of mankind.
I have spoken of the People " commonly called " Jews, because, perhaps, in strictness, they ought rather to he desig- nated as Israelites. For though it is probable that the majority of them are actually of the Tribe of Judah, there is, undoubtedly, a very large admixture of the other tribes. Be- sides the small Tribe of Benjamin, in whose territory Jerusalem stands, and which was always incorporated in the kingdom of Judah, there is also the whole, or nearly the whole, of the Tribe of Levi, who were connected with the service of the Temple at Jerusalem, and who, on being deprived by Jeroboam, King of Israel, of all their peculiar privileges, would naturally settle in the territory of the kingdom of Judah.
And over and above all these, we read in the Book of Chroni- cles, of great numbers from Ephraim, and the other tribes, who joined the kingdom of Judah at sundry times. Jeroboam having set up, and his successors continued, the idolatrous worship of the golden calves, all his subjects who adhered to the regular worship at Jerusalem, were thus led to enrol them- selves as subjects of the kings of Judah. Hence, we find mention in Luke's Gospel, of the Prophetess Anna, of the Tribe of Assar. And great multitudes, no doubt, of those called Jews, both at that time and now, were wholly or partly de- scended from other tribes.
But Judah being the principal tribe, and the kingdom receiving its name from that, it thus happened, very naturally, that the designation of Jews came to be extended to all its subjects.
I do not, of course, propose to give any thing like a full account of this remarkable People ; nor shall I treat of several doubtful points relative to them, which have often been dis- cussed ; having no design at present to enter on controversies. And I shall pass by also several curious speculations which do not practically concern ourselves. But there are several points
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that are fully established, and generally known— though some- times not sufficiently attended to— which do concern us, and which therefore it may he both interesting and profitable to bring before the mind, and dwell upon attentively.
In particular, there are many prophecies relating to the Jewish People, which are of unquestioned antiquity, and some of which appear to be receiving their fulfilment before our eyes in the present day.
Among others, there are some very remarkable ones in the book of the Prophet Ezekiel, particularly one in the 20th chap. v. 32 — 34. Obscure as some portions of this Prophet's writings confessedly are, the passage to which I am now calling your at- tention is perfectly clear. " That which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye say we will be as the Heathen — as the families of the countries, to serve wood and stone. As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand, and with a stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule over you: and I will bring you out from the people, and will gather you out of the countries wherein ye are scattered, with a mighty hand and a stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out."
This very remarkable passage (much more remarkable than ordinary readers are aware) occurs in a book which the Jews of the present day, as well as ourselves, acknow- ledge to have been written by the Prophet Ezekiel, at a time when his countrymen were greatly disposed to fall into the idolatry of the nations around them, and for which, as well as other sins, he repeatedly denounces the divine judgments against them. This particular sin of idolatry had apparently reached its height at the same time when Ezekiel wrote; and accordingly, there is, perhaps, no one of the prophets who has so many and so earnest censures and threats against it. And our Scriptures give us very full accounts of the execution of the threats of Moses and the prophets, — the judgments which fell on the rebel- lious nation ; great part of which they had been actually under- going at the time Ezekiel wrote. They predict the miseries the Jews underwent from the invasion of enemies, the destruction of
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their city and temple by the Chaldeans, and the long captivity of the nation. But the most remarkable circumstance is, that this Prophet does not foretell (as one might have expected) either that the nation should be entirely cut off, or that those of them who remained should be mixed and altogether blended with the heathen, and lose all distinction as God's peculiar People, so as to be no more a separate nation ; but, on the contrary, that they should still continue a distinct People, notwithstanding their own endeavours (at the time when he (Ezekiel) wrote) to mix with the Gentiles, and shake off all marks of separation ; that they should still, in spite of themselves, be singled out as God's pe- culiar People, though no longer his peculiarly favoured people ; that He would still be in an especial manner their King, visiting them with peculiar and heavy judgments, and distinguishing them by these, as much as they had formerly been distinguished by extraordinary blessings, from all other nations. " That which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye say we will be as the Heathen, as the families of the countries," &c. &c.
The Jews in Ezekiel's time seem to have despised and ab- horred their privilege of being the Lord Jehovah's peculiar people, and to have wished to conform in all things to the practices of the nations around them. [You should observe Heathens, Gen- tiles, and Nations, are words originally all of the same meaning.] The Jews then, I say, were desirous of being like the rest of the world, serving idols of wood and stone, and casting off all those distinctions which had kept them till then a separate nation; sometimes dreaded, sometimes despised, and always disliked, by their idolatrous neighbours. But the Prophet declares that this design of theirs shall not take effect ; that Jehovah their King will neither suffer them to follow their inclination, nor utterly destroy them ; but will keep them his peculiar people whether they will or not ; and as He formerly distinguished them by blessings, so now He will govern them with severity ; — as He wrought great deliverances for them, and brought them out of Egypt with a mighty hand .... so now with a mighty hand, and with fury poured out, He would rule over them.
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And to this day the unbelieving Jews are a separate people. They themselves, I suppose, interpret the prophecy of Ezekiel of the deliverance from the Babylonish captivity, and their re- turn from that to their own land. But it must relate to some- thing more than that ; for, their restoration to their own land was an act of kindness and favour; whereas the Prophet plainly points at their being separated from other nations by a govern- ment of severity and chastisement : " Avith a mighty hand and stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out will I rule over you." But whether or not we understand the prophecy to have related in part to the return from the Babylonish captivity, it plainly foretells that the Jews never shall at any time be blended and wholly lost as a nation among idolatrous people ; a thing which to all human conjecture must have appeared extremely probable at the time when Ezekiel wrote.
It is important to keep in mind that in order to establish the claim of an alleged prophecy to a superhuman origin, four points are requisite : —
1st. The prediction must clearly correspond with the event.
2nd. It must be clearly shown to have been delivered he- fore the event.
3rd. It must not be within the reach of any human sagacity (such, as for instance, the prediction of an eclipse by astro- nomers).
4th, and lastly, it must be a prediction which could not it- self cause its own fulfilment.
If, for instance, there were a prediction afloat, that such- and-such a person should appear at a certain time and place, and should say and do so-and-so, it might be in his own power to fulfil that prediction; and it might be for his advantage to do so.
In all these points the prediction now before us will be found to establish its truly prophetical character.
Nothing, as I have just said, could be, humanly speaking, more probable, at the time when Ezekiel wrote, than the com- plete blending of the Jews with idolatrous nations. Ezekiel
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however, prophesied that this never should take place: and it never has, to this day. After their return from the Bahylonish captivity, they appear to have fallen no more into the idolatry which they had before been so much addicted to; and though guilty of many enormous sins, always maintained with the most scrupulous reverence the letter of the Law of Moses ; as they endeavour to do to this time. And yet the fury poured out on them as a nation is very observable. While the Temple of Solomon stood, they profaned even that holy place itself with Idolatry ; ever since its destruction they have abstained from Idolatry; for above 1800 years they have had no Temple — no city — no country ; they cannot offer the sacrifices which the Law of Moses directs, because it is forbidden them to do so ex- cept at the Temple at Jerusalem — the place last chosen by the Lord to " set his Name there." — [Deut. xii. 13.]
Yet still they observe the Mosaic Law, as far as they are able, with the most scrupulous exactness. In all that long period, since the destruction of their city by the Romans, they have not only enjoyed no extraordinary providence in their favour as a nation, but have been insulted and persecuted in various parts of the world, driven from place to place as home- less wanderers ; and remarkable as they were of old for their warlike spirit, not only when the Lord of Hosts gave them vic- tory in the battle, but in their obstinate, though fruitless, resistance to the Romans, yet since the destruction of their city, though often exposed to bitter persecutions, and that too in countries where they were very numerous, they have seldom or never attempted the slightest resistance ; but (in the words of Bishop Heber) : —
" In dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, And dead to glory, only burn for gold."
When Mahomet first set up his religion, after having in vain invited the Jews to adopt it, which very few of them did, he ap- pealed to the sword, and challenged them to take the field in the
lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 185
cause of their faith against him and his followers ; but though in some regions of the East they are reckoned to amount to a quarter of the population, they generally refused to try the event of battle ; but submitted and still submit to be upbraided by the Mahometans both as infidels and as cowards, and to be oppressed and loaded with every kind of indignity, which they bear with a patient stubbornness that is truly wonderful. But any one may observe, even from a view of the comparatively small number of them scattered through our own country, how exactly their situation agrees both with the prophecy of Ezekiel and with those of Moses in the Book of Deuteronomy ; especi- ally in Chapter 28 : " Thou shalt become an astonishment, a proverb, and a by- word among all nations whither the Lord shall lead thee, and among these nations [' the wilderness of the peo- ple,' as Ezekiel has it,] thou shalt find no ease, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest."
What is as remarkable, perhaps, as anything is, that all this is denounced by Moses against them as a judgment for dis- obeying the Law he delivered ; and yet the Jews of the present day are particularly strict in (what they consider) the observ- ance of the Mosaic Law ; and what is more, seem to suffer all the indignities they are exposed to, in consequence of their ad- hering to that Law : since any one of them has only to renounce Judaism and conform to the religion of the country he lives in, and he is immediately blended with the general mass of the people, and no longer distinguished as a Jew.
Now this ought to put a Jew of any candour upon consider- ing how it can be that the very punishments denounced against their nation as a judgment for disobeying the Mosaic law should be actually inflicted on them for conforming to it. And this would lead him, perhaps, to perceive that they are not really conforming to the law of Moses, though they pretend and think they are, but are in fact apostates from the religion which they are supposing themselves to be so steadily maintaining. For the very end and object and fulfilment of all the other ob- servances of the Law, is the Messiah or Christ — the prophet
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whom Moses declared the Lord their God should raise up among them like unto him [Moses]. " Him shall ye hear, and whoso- ever will not hear that prophet, shall be cut off."
This they themselves allow, and are waiting to this day for the coming of the Christ, whom they will not believe to have been Jesus. But they themselves would admit that to reject the Messiah or Christ, on his coming, would be to reject the Mosaic law; and therefore, since their nation is actually suf- fering the judgments threatened for rejecting the Mosaic law, this should lead them to conclude that they have rejected Messiah.
And again, if a Jew were to reflect candidly on the strict- ness with which his nation observe, and have long observed, numerous precepts and religious rites instituted by Moses, wondering at the same time that still no deliverance should be afforded them, this might lead him to reflect that the most important of all those observances, the sacrifices in the temple (which made up the main part of the Jewish religion), are not kept up. This, he would say, is not their fault, since they have no temple. But to say that their not observing this law is no fault of theirs, does not alter the fact, that it is not ob- served ; and the Christian would tell him that all these sacri- fices were figures and representations of the great sacrifice of Jesus, which was accordingly intended to put an end to all those offerings under the Law, and to be the effectual substi- tute for them ; so that the way to comply with the precepts of Moses concerning the offering of sacrifices, is to trust in the great Atonement of Christ crucified ; and, instead of slaying the paschal lamb, to feast at the Lord's table on those memo- rials which He appointed, of the sacrifice of the true " Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." And this, God has declared to the Jews, if they would open their eyes and ears, by his having abolished completely the sacrifices of beasts in the temple, through the destruction of the temple itself, which makes it absolutely impossible to comply with the most important part of the law of Moses in any other way than that in which Christians say it ought to be complied with.
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The Jew will not conform to this part of the law of Moses in the manner in which we say he ought, and he cannot — through the destruction of the temple — conform to it in any other way. Christians, or those of any persuasion except the Jewish, could, if expelled from their country, still celebrate the rites of their religion. It is only to Jews that this is impossible. Why God's providence has rendered it impossible to the Jews, through the destruction of their temple, to obey literally the principal part of the Law which He enjoined them to obey, let them explain in any other way if they can.
Although, however, the Jewish prophecies, now that they are fulfilled, appear conformable to the events predicted, and though we perceive that the Jewish notion of a temporal and triumphant Christ, and of the subjection of all nations to the Jews-by-race, is at variance with those prophecies which speak of a suffering Christ, and of the call of the Gentiles to be God's people ; still, we know that all this was not understood by the Jews, even those of them who became the disciples of Jesus, till He had " opened their understanding that they might understand the Scriptures," saying, " Thus it is written, and thus it behoved the Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day."
And some may wonder why all this had not been so plainly declared that all might have known beforehand what sort of a kingdom they were to expect, so that, when Jesus came, they might have been prepared to receive his Gospel.
Now, it would certainly be unbecoming God's creatures to demand, or to expect to obtain, in all cases, a full explanation of all his dealings with Man. But this much we can perceive ; that if the promised Saviour, when He came, had corresponded exactly with all the expectations and hopes which the Jews had been so long and so fondly cherishing, a reception of the Gospel would have been in a manner forced upon them all, without affording any trial of their candour in inquiry, and their humble faith in God. And this forcing of the truth on men's understanding by such evidence as the most perverse and prejudiced could not withstand, seems contrary to the
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system on which (for whatever reason) God's providence has manifestly always proceeded, in what relates to moral and religious truths.
But, now, let us consider what advantage we may derive in respect of the evidence of our faith, from reflecting on the state of mind of the Jews at the time our Lord appeared.
If He and his Gospel had corresponded with their interpre- tation of the prophecies, and had consequently been readily and gladly received by the greater part of the nation, would there not have been room for a lurking suspicion that too easy credit was given to the account of his miracles? — that a people, so credulous as the Jews were at that time, were de- luded, partly by their imagination, and partly by their ready reception of feigned and exaggerated tales? We know that such things have often taken place, both formerly and in our own times ; that accounts of miracles are received with very little inquiry among ignorant people, who are predisposed to admit the pretensions of those to whom the miracles are attri- buted. Even the testimony of the senses is not always to be relied on, in the case of weak and superstitious men, when under strong prejudice.
But what is the actual case? Through their interpretation of the prophecies, all the wishes and expectations — all the pre- judice— all the weak credulity of the Jews were enlisted against Jesus and his apostles. They were prepared to resist to the utmost all the evidence in his favour ; and when they could not deny the miracles they witnessed, were driven to the most absurd explanations of them, as wrought by magic, and through the agency of demons1.
Thus has Providence afforded us the overwhelming tes-
' This is the account given by the I as form a complete contrast to the chris- Jews themselves, in that very ancient I tian miracles. In every instance the
work called the Toldoth Jescha.
It is remarkable that when any Jews or other anti -christians attempt to find a parallel to the christian Narratives, in Pagan Mythology, or Romish Legends, the cases they adduce are always such
miraculous narratives have been received by a people predisposed to believe them, and have not been the foundation of their religion, but resting on the religion for reception.
lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 189
timony of adversaries. Thus does the credulous weakness of those adversaries supply strength to our cause. The former unbelief, as. well as the present condition of the Jews, makes them unanswerable witnesses for the Gospel.
And let any infidel explain, if he can, how that extraordi- nary nation came to be, and to have been so long, in such a strange condition. They are to this day a standing miracle ; a monument of the fulfilment of prophecy, and a sample of God's judgments ; kept in existence, and kept separate from all other people, among whom they are scattered, by the " mighty hand and out-stretched arm " of God : despised and oppressed, and utterly ruined as a nation ; yet still, as far as ever from being extirpated or lost. They have been compared to the burning bush which Moses saw in the wilderness, which burned with fire, yet was not consumed. Thinned as they must have been by the prodigious slaughter of the Romans, and fugitives without a country ever since ; and thinned also by the great numbers who embraced the Gospel, who amounted, even in Paul's time, to many myriads ' in Jerusalem alone, they are calculated to be at this time not less numerous than the whole nation of Israel in the days of Solomon !
I am acquainted with one very ingenious person — an infidel, or nearly so — at least a sceptic — one who is not fully con- vinced of the truth of our religion — -^\\q acknowledged to me that, though he could see objections to the other arguments commonly used in favour of Christianity, the case of the Jews, i. e. their present state, considered along with their past history, completely perplexed him. He could not conceive in what way to account for this wonderful state of things, on the supposition of our Scriptures not being true.
Those who resolve (as is the case with some writers in our time) to admit nothing that is not, according to their notions, probable, must, in this instance, refuse to believe what is before their eyes.
1 Our version has " thousands ;" but in the original, it is " tens of thousands."
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Nations without number have indeed before now been sub- dued by their enemies. Some have lived under the govern- ment of their conquerors, and generally mixed with those conquerors ; some have been dispersed into other lands, and mixed with the people of those lands, so that their name has been lost. These, our islands, have been possessed by Britons, by Gaels, by Saxons, partially by Danes, and by Normans ; but all are now, and have long been, blended together; no one can point out which are descended from which of those nations ; the very language we speak is a mixture of all theirs together. No nation but the Je .vs have been dispersed into all lands without settling in any that they could call their own, and yet retained their remarkable system of religion wherever they have gone.
That wandering race which we call Gipsies, are those who, in some points, come the nearest to the case of the Jews ; but in the most important and remarkable points the cases are quite different.
That people have been, not long since, fully made out to be a race of Hindoos, some of whom are still left in our East Indian territories ; they are properly called Zingaries or Chin- garies ; they have a peculiar language, which has been found to be a dialect of the Hindoo ; they are wanderers in most parts of the world, and generally found unmixed with other races. So far the two cases are alike ; but it is much less wonderful that these Zingaries should be kept unmixed, because they live in tents in the open fields, and mix very little in the multitude of the great towns, so that they are not in the way of becoming one people with those who lead so different a life from them ; whereas, the Jews frequent exclusively crowded cities, and live in houses, and engage in trades, in the midst of persons of other nations : it is only their religion that keeps them distinct.
But the grand difference is, that the Zingaries, or Gipsies, so far from maintaining a peculiar religion, and suffering per- secution for it, are always ready to profess the religion of any country where they are living; they appear to have little or no
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sense of religion in reality; but never make any scruple of calling themselves Mahometans, or Romanists, or Protestants, if required, according to the country in which they are.
The Jews, on the contrary, profess and steadily adhere to a religion which has often brought persecution on them — a re- ligion which is the very thing that keeps them separate from all other people ; not, as in the case of the Gipsies, their mode of life ; — a religion whose sacred books they carry with them with extreme reverence wherever they wander; and which books contain prophecies of the very banishment and disgrace to which their nation is now subjected, as well as of the Christ whom they are still expecting, but whom Christians see in the Lord Jesus. These prophecies, therefore, which the Jews hold in reverence, bear witness against themselves, when they are in a christian country ; since they are unable to explain (though we can) why they who boast of being God's peculiar people, should be exposed to so severe a judgment, unless it be for the sin of rejecting the promised Messiah. Yet, still, they rever- ence these books, and bear witness in an unanswerable manner to their being at. least ancient books, and not forged by Chris- tians ; and still, with these prophecies in their hands, they refuse to embrace the Gospel ; they wander " in the wilderness of the people" (as Ezekiel expresses it), fugitives in the midst of populous nations ; even as their fathers wandered in the Wil- derness of Sinai ; and both, for the same cause ; because, when invited, they refused to enter " into the rest " which the Lord had provided for them. Their fathers would not enter into the land of Canaan when commanded ; and were sentenced to wander in the wilderness forty years ; and their descendants would not enter into the spiritual kingdom of God, which Canaan represented, and they are still wandering " in the wilderness of the people.''
Jews are found in pagan countries, in Mahometan countries, and in various christian countries ; but everywhere they are fulfilling the prediction of the prophet Balaam, which was con- firmed and extended by Ezekiel's — " the people shall dwell alone, and shall not be numbered among the nations."
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Now let infidels, I say, explain all this if they can ; and let Christians meditate upon it, and humbly praise God for having been pleased to afford us so strong a proof of the truth of his Gospel, even in the very circumstance of the obstinate unbelief of those to whom it was first preached, and who were once his favoured People. Blind as they are to the truths before them, they may be of use to enlighten us. They are like the burning- glass, which, unwarmed itself by the sun's rays that pass through it, serves to collect those rays, and to kindle by their power the object on which it throws them. Their own faith is dead; it is the corpse of a departed revelation ; but it is like the bones of the prophet Elijah, which, though still remaining lifeless them- selves, revived the dead corpse of him who was laid upon them : their dead and decayed religion may impart new life to ours.
It is a remarkable circumstance that the Jews expect, that, under the reign of the Messiah, the Gentiles shall be converted to a true religion (though not made equal to the Jews-by-birth), and shall apply to the Jews for religious instruction. I once had much conversation with a well-informed Jew, who cited to me the prophetical passage from Zechariah viii. 23 : " Ten men shall take hold, out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with vou ; for we have heard that God is with you." It seemed to have never occurred to him that this prophecy has been fulfilled. All the books of the New Testament, which are what we Gentiles rely on, were written by Jews. Jesus and his Apostles were Jews ; it was by Jewish peasants and fishermen that the religion of the civilized world was changed.
Some Christians, as well as the Jews of this day, look for- ward to a further fulfilment of that prophecy, to come hereafter. Whether this is to be so or not, is a matter of opinion, and one on which opinions differ ; but that there has been a fulfilment of the prophecy, is a matter, not of opinion, but of undeniable and notorious fact. And the delivery and the fulfilment of that, and of the other prophecies concerning the Jews, is what cannot be explained by any unbeliever in Christianity.
lect. vn.] THE JEWS. 193
Explain to me (you may say to one who urges doubts and difficulties against the Gospel), explain to me first, before you bring any objections against our religion, the past history, and present condition of the Jews. There is nothing like the case in all the world, nor ever was. You must allow it to be, at least, singular and remarkable ; point out by what natural causes it might have come about: why have these things be- fallen the Jews? and why did they never befall any other people ? And how came the prophets to foretell anything so unlikely? And when you get a satisfactory answer to these questions, you may then listen to whatever objections may be brought against the Gospel. But the questions are what we may be very sure no infidel can ever answer ; or else surely they would have been answered long before now.
There are several questions, (as I saicl at the beginning,) relative to the Jewish nation , that are of a doubtful character, and altogether speculative, as far as we are concerned, having no reference to our practice. One of the questions relates to descendants of that portion of what are called the ten Tribes, who were carried away captive.
Some believe that a remnant of these will one day be dis- covered, and will be brought back to their own former land. Others think that there is no different dispensation designed for those ten Tribes as distinguished from the rest, but that all are to be blended together as one people, — as was distinctly declared to Ezekiel, (ch. 37,) who was commanded by the Lord to take two sticks, and write on one of them " for Judah and for the children of Israel, his companions :" and on the other, " for Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and the children of Israel, his companions, and join them one to another, and they shall become one stick in thine hand." And he was told to explain to the People that the Lord would gather together all the Israelites, and they should be no more two nations, but one.
And, accordingly, the Apostle Paul speaks (Acts xxvi.) of the "twelve Tribes serving God" in his time; and James ad-
W. E. 0
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dresses his epistle to the twelve Tribes. And in the opening of the Lecture I reminded you of the narrative in Chronicles, of the junction of large bodies of the several Tribes to the kingdom of Judah.
But the whole question is, as I have said, merely a specu- lative one ; since, if there does exist some remnant of the ten Tribes that is hereafter to be restored to the Holy Land, we are not required either to assist or to oppose them.
And the same may be said of the recovery, — which some persons expect, — of Jerusalem by the Jewish nation, and the rebuilding of their Temple. We, at all events, are nowhere commanded either to aid such an attempt, or to oppose it : so that the question, though it may be a practical one to the Jews, is, to us, one of mere speculative curiosity.
We are, indeed, assured that there is to be no religious distinction between believing Jews and Gentiles ; — no spiritual superiority in the children of Abraham after the flesh. For the Apostle Paul declares, most expressly, that " in Christ Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek, Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free; but Christ is all, and in all;" and he says elsewhere, writing to Gentiles, " if ye are Christ's, then are ye Abraham; 's seed, and heirs according to the promise : " and he calls Christians " the Israel of God."
But as for a temporal restoration of the Jewish nation, that is a doubtful question, and one on which learned and pious Christians are divided : and it is a question of no practical im- port to us1.
There is, indeed, even an attraction, to some minds, in curious speculations, connected with religion, but which are not practical; — which afford the satisfaction of feeling that one is piously occupied, while at the same time there is no call for troublesome exertion, — for vigilant care, — for laborious effort to learn or to do something : but somewhat the kind of gratification that is derived from a beautiful Poem, or a fine
1 See Lectures on a Future State. The Lecture on the Expected Restoration of the Jews, may be had separate.
lect. yh.J THE JEWS. 195
piece of Sacred Music. But without passing any censure on such speculations, we must admit that the first place in point . of importance, belongs to what is practical and useful. I have accordingly been endeavouring (as I said in the outset) to turn your attention profitably to some well-established points which do practically concern ourselves. The confirmation which is afforded to the truth of the Gospel by the contemplation of the history, and present state, of the Jews, is completely within the reach of the plainest Christian who can but read his Bible, and who will but be at pains to reflect a little on what he reads, and also on what is passing around him. And let not his reflections come to a close as soon as he is fully convinced of the truth of the Gospel. The Jews, not only serve as a proof to us, but also as an example, and a sign, and a warning. " These things" (says Paul, of the ancient transactions of the nation) " these things happened unto them for examples, and they are written for our admonition ;" and surely the things which have happened since Paul's time are not the less fit to answer the same purpose. The Jews, by displaying God's mercy, and also his severity, towards that nation as a nation, in respect of the things of this world, admonish us what each single individual among Christians has to expect with regard to the things of the next world. They afford a specimen, by way of proof, of the plan of God's dealings with Man. They teach us that it is not some part of those who enjoy the light of the Gospel, but all of them, whether they listen to the call or not, that are God's elect, chosen, peculiar People ; since not some only, but the whole Jewish nation were God's elect of old. \_Elect and chosen, you should observe, are trans- lations of the same word in the original.] They teach us, again, that he who trusts in the privilege of being one of God's Elect, and thinks his salvation sure on that ground, without striving to " walk worthy of the vocation wherewith he is called," is in the same error with those Jews who thought " to say within themselves, we have Abraham to our Father," and who were punished even the more severely on account of
03
196 THE JEWS. [lect. to.
their being God's People, for not " bringing forth fruits meet for repentance." They teach us that God's mercy is indeed to be relied on by those who embrace his offers, but not by those who are deaf to them. Those have only to expect his severity. That He is mighty to save, and gracious, and faith- ful to his promises, and long suffering, the Jews afford a proof. That He can, and will, punish, when He has declared that He will, of this also the Jews afford a proof. The Gospel holds out not temporal, but eternal rewards and punishments. The temporal rewards and punishments of the Jewish Nation are samples of the divine government of all men : and the Christian in proportion as he has a far more glorious — a heavenly Canaan, set before him, and a far brighter reve- lation bestowed on him, must look for the heavier judgments also in the next world, in case of his neglecting those advan- tages. " He that despised Moses' Law," (as we read in the Epistle to the Hebrews,) " died without mercy under two or three witnesses ; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant where- with he was sanctified an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of Grace." " Wherefore," (says the same Epistle,) " to day if ye will hear his voice, — even while it is called to-day, lest any of you be hardened through the deceit- fulness of sin, — to-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation, and temptation in the wilder- ness,— lest He swear in his wrath that ye shall not enter into his eternal rest."
LECTURE VIII.
ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS OF A LITTLE LEARNING.
[N.B. — This Lecture was delivered at Cork in the year 1852, as introductory to a course of Lectures, by several hands.}
It is, I trust, sufficiently understood that it is not my pur- pose to deliver one of that course of lectures which it is proposed to have delivered in connexion with the Exhibition ; but only to make a few prefatory observations as an introduction to those lectures which are about being delivered by persons more com- petent, in their respective departments, than myself.
The proposed lectures should be considered as emanating from — as the offspring of — the National Exhibition; and, in fact, may be considered as a subsidiary and necessary portion of it. These lectures do not undertake or pretend to give a course of education in any one particular department, any more than the collection of manufactures and articles viewed this day, should be considered as a warehouse, rather than a sample of what Nature and Art were capable of producing in this country. Such an exhibition, I take it, would be unfinished and incom- plete unless some specimens were also exhibited of what could be done, in the way of instruction, by those whom the country could produce to give that instruction to the nation. Of all the instruments which are exhibited in the collection I have in- spected in the course of the day, there is none so important as a good instructor. The flax, growing in the field, is not more different from the finest and most finished cambric than an ignorant man is from a well informed man. The proposed
198 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.
lectures are not intended to furnish full instruction in any one department, but merely as a specimen of what may be done in the way of imparting information — to show what lectures can do to those who are disposed to resort to and profit by them.
The National Exhibition has not been got up, as far as I can observe and collect, from any spirit of rivalry or jealousy against the Great Exhibition in London last year — but it has been got up in a spirit of honest and laudable emulation ; not to show how well Ireland can get on without England and the rest of the world, but to show how worthy Ireland is to be included in the industrious nations of the world, and how worthy it is to form a portion of the British empire. And as there has been no feeling of jealousy exhibited in getting up this Exhibition, so I hope no feeling of low narrow-mindedness or base jealousy will be excited in England against it. If the English should see as much to be admired as I have seen this day, I conceive the natural effect will be congratulation to the Irish, and in- creased emulation amongst the English. I think I may say that the National Exhibition, if not more admirable than the Great Exhibition, may be called more surprising, considering the circumstances under which each was got up.
What I say respecting Ireland as a part of the British Em- pire— and my desire has always been to see Ireland considered a worthy member of the Empire— is no new sentiment with me, and has not been taken up for the present occasion, nor since my coming to this country ; but, is the sentiment which my most intimate friends could bear witness of as being mine from the time I have been able to form an opinion on a public sub- ject. It has always been my wish that Ireland should be con- sidered as a really integral portion of the British empire, and as such admitted to take its place with all the others, and not to be considered as a province or a dependency of the Empire, but as much a part of it as Yorkshire or any other portion of the Kingdom. I may be mistaken as to what would conduce to the welfare of England and the welfare of this country; but, there is not an Englishman nor an Irishman who has more at heart
lect. vra.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 199
the welfare of the Kingdom, or any portion of the British Empire, than I have. And it has always appeared to me — if any one thinks me mistaken, I trust he will, at all events, accord me credit for sincerity in what I say, — that the narrow policy of separating England from Ireland, and setting forth their in- terests as inimical and antagonistic, and exciting the feelings of the people against each other, savours of barbarism, and is in effect, bringing them back to the days of the Heptarchy. I would never join in the cry of "Ireland for the Irish;" nor would I join in the cry of "England for the English" — which is only the second part of the same tune. If you adopted such a plan, they would then have the cry of " Cork for Corkmen " and " Dublin for Dubliners," and thus you would be narrowing yourselves into cities, and towns, and clans, until all would relapse into a state of semi-barbarism, such as is to be found in New Zealand and Africa. I am confident that the prosperity of Ireland will always be reflected on England, and that the pros- perity and wealth and tranquillity of the latter will reach the former. I have always considered the two countries as two brothers — the best and most useful friends when united ; but the bitterest and worst enemies when disunited. These are not sentiments taken up for the present occasion, but sentiments which I have always, felt and expressed openly from the period I was first able to form and express an opinion.
Lectures, something of the same character, only of a more continuous and prolonged course, and having the character of being in connection with a more permanent institution, than those about being delivered in this hall, were established several years ago at Manchester, and also at Edinburgh ; and on the es- tablishment of those lectures, and of a library and museum, I was invited to attend the opening. I did attend at Manchester, and subsequently at Edinburgh ; and on both occasions ex- pressed my warm approbation of their proceedings, and a hearty wish for their success ; and for so doing, I and those other per- sons who had taken a part in the proceedings, were reviled and ridiculed, by a certain portion of the Press, with the bitterest
200 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.
derision. It is not for me to say how far that portion of the Press was actuated by a wish to repress and circumscribe the spread of education among the people ; but, for some reason or another — as I presume there was a reason for doing it — we were most bitterly reviled and maligned. Those who did so put forth grounds in justification of their conduct, which, as far as I could understand them resolved themselves into two reasons. First, they said, this was a plan for imparting knowledge, not neces- sarily connected with religion and morality, nor under the con- trol or supervision of the teachers of morality and religion ; and as the lecturers were not under the control of spiritual teachers, the more able and instructive these lecturers were, the more they would be enabled to corrupt the mind of the learner, and the more dangerous they might make him. The second objec- tion was to what might be called " the dangers of smattering " — the dangers of "a little learning." They said the people would be the worse for having a slight knowledge — " a little learning " imparted to them.
On those two objections I shall make a few observations. — The lectures which were established at Manchester and at Edinburgh, five or six years ago, like those lectures that are about being established here, did not contain, as a portion of them, moral and religious instruction ; and therefore they were represented as dangerous. Now, in all the works I have written I have warned men against the danger of neglecting a moral and religious education, and against any undue pre- ponderance being given to secular instruction without a duly proportionate attention being devoted to morality and religion. And I pointed out that the same amount of moral and re- ligious cultivation which would be sufficient for a very ignorant clown, should not be considered a fair proportion for those who had received a higher degree of secular cultivation. That which would be the tithe of a small produce should not be offered as tithe of a larger one. But you should remember that while these lectures are being delivered, there is no defi- ciency of religious and moral instruction elsewhere, be it good
lect. via.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 201
or bad. There are sermons to be heard from persons of all religious denominations, which are, in fact, lectures on religion and morality, from which persons may, if they so please, derive moral instruction; and it would be as improper if in those sermons allusion were made to agriculture, chemistry, or the fine arts, as if in lectures on chemistry, agriculture, or the fine arts, the lecturer were to inculcate morality and religion. As to any compulsory system of religious teaching I have always been opposed to it, both on principle and on grounds of expediency. We have no right to force upon any person religious or moral instruction; for, as Shakespere said of mercy, its quality
" is not strained.
It droppeth like the gentle rain from Heaven, Upon the place beneath."
But all we can do to provide against the danger of neglecting the moral and religious cultivation of the mind, is, to warn man of the danger of such neglect ; and when we have done that, we have done all we can do. It would be useless, and worse than useless, to force moral instruction on a person as a condition of his receiving a secular education.
But you will be told by some that ci they only wish secular education to be under the control of those who have the spiritual guidance of the persons receiving such secular educa- tion;" that " those spiritual directors should have a veto upon everything which has reference to the secular education; be- cause," they add, " the lecturer on geology might, in the course of his address, insinuate false and mischievous notions in re- gard to religion and morality ; and therefore the entire control of the secular education should be placed under the guidance and superintendence of the spiritual guides of the people."
Now, as to the danger in question, I will not deny that it is possible for a teacher of some branch of secular learning to introduce false religious notions, and mischievous and dangerous moral principles. But I do not think there is any adequate
202 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [LEct. vui.
safeguard against such danger, except to warn men against it, and to tell them to teach merely geology, mathematics, chemistry, agriculture, &c, in their respective departments ; but, in so doing, to take care that they do not insinuate any- thing against religious and moral principles. For if you go be- yond this precaution, there is a danger on the opposite side. If you leave the teaching of geology and mathematics to the spirit- ual teachers of the people, you may find that these may make as great errors as the others, by teaching false philosophical principles. "What a different kind of danger!" it maybe said. " Suppose a man did imbibe some false notions of phi- losophy— how trifling is this in comparison with his imbibing false religious and dangerous moral principles." " May not a man," they continue, lt be a good Christian although a bad chemist? May not a man be a good Christian although he believe the sun goes round the earth." Now this I hold to be altogether an erroneous view of the case. You will perceive on reflection that the danger is nearly the same, and not less, but greater. False philosophical notions indeed, conveyed by pro- fessors who are the spiritual teachers of the people, if given merely as their own private opinions, as individuals, and not as interwoven with their religious teaching, are no greater evil than if taught by any one else. But it is not so with errors in science when represented as connected with reli- gion. Although errors in chemistry and physics are in them- selves insignificant when compared with the danger of wrong notions in religion and morality, there is danger of persons being taught certain erroneous notions of philosophy as a part of their religion, and by that means having a lever placed under their religious principles which will upheave and over- turn them. True, a man may be a good Christian and a moral man, though he believe that the sun moves round the earth. But, suppose that man was taught, as a part of divine revelation, and an essential point of his faith, that the sun really does move round the earth, then, when it is demonstrated to him that such is not the fact, he thus is led to believe that 1
lect. vm.] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 203
he has got a system of wrong notions as his religious faith, and he "will be inclined to doubt it all.
I will give an instance which came under my own knowledge in the discussion of a question of physical truth as connected with religious and moral truth. There was, some twenty years ago, a reviewer, who, in a review of a work (in the Westminster Review) contended that it was impossible any revelation could have been made to Man, because, according to the reviewer, in the second book of Chronicles, it appeared from a descrip- tion of the temple, that the Jews did not know that the diameter of a circle differed from a third of its circumference. The answer to this argument is simple. For, first, it was not clear that the Jews were ignorant of the fact that the diameter of a circle differed from a third part of its circumference ; and secondly, even if they were ignorant of that geometrical truth, it did not follow that they could not have had a revelation that the heavens and the earth were made by a Supreme Being. It is not clear that the Jews were ignorant of the geometrical truth ; and the reviewer's conclusions did not follow even if they were ignorant. We all speak of the rising and the setting of the sun. The reviewer himself would have spoken of the same ; and yet we all know that the sun does not rise or set. The reviewer certainly would not have hesitated to say — " go in a straight line from this place to that, and be sure you are there before sunset." And yet (according to his own reasoning) from so saying, he would appear to be ignorant of the globular form of the earth, as well as of the Copernican system of astronomy. How absurd and pedantic it would be to say — "go in a geodesic line from this place to that, and be sure you are there before that portion of the earth is withdrawn from the sun's rays."
But, now, take a different view of the case. Suppose a teacher of theology had taken up the above notion, and being a bad mathematician, had insisted that they were bound to take it as a part and parcel of the christian revelation, that the circumference was treble the diameter, what would be the
204 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vm.
consequence? Simply, that a student learning Euclid would fancy he had got a mathematical demonstration of the falsity of the Bible.
All the security we can have from the dangers on both sides, is to put the people on their guard against them, and say, " let no person go beyond his own department." Look in the Scrip- tures for religious instruction ; and, above all, let the theologian be always warned to teach his people, that a true religion has nothing to fear, and can have nothing to fear, from a full and searching investigation of Nature— that false and pretended religions may be overthrown from facts brought to light, but that true religion is confirmed by enlightenment and investiga- tion. It comes from the Author of Nature, and He cannot contradict Himself. Two great volumes are placed before us — the book of Nature and the book of Revelation, and as they came from the same Author, they cannot contradict each other. We should learn to read them both aright.
The other objection which is urged against this system of lecturing, is, in the words of the Poet —
" A little learning is a dangerous thing."
That is an objection frequently urged, and I acknowledge the existence of the danger. I admit that with a " little learning" people are likely to be puffed up with vanity — to consider them- selves above laborious work — and -to become discontented at not being honoured as the very accomplished persons they consider themselves. I do not deny the danger. But the poet adds as a remedy —
" Drink deep or taste not."
I think on reflection you will perceive that both of these reme- dies "drink deep" and "taste not," are impossible. "Drink deep ! " How deep are they to go ? Is not the most learned man, even in any department to which he may have completely devoted himself, extremely ignorant in reference to the subject itself? He may have gone very " deep" in comparison with
lect. vm.] OF A LITTLE LEARNING. 205
some of his neighbours, but still is he not very ignorant when his knowledge is compared with that which he does not know ? Five centuries ago, a man went more " deep " than the gene- rality, who could read. The gigantic telescope, which is such an honour to this country, has brought to light wonders in astronomy, that go far beyond anything with which we were previously acquainted ; showing that the astronomers who " drank deep," three centuries ago, were mere children when compared to those who lived a century since, and that those again were children to those who have followed them. It is impossible to have more than a very ''little learning" in com- parison to what we have to remain ignorant of. As, in making a clearing in an American forest, the more trees you fell, the wider is the prospect of surrounding wood, so, the more we learn, the more we perceive of what is yet unlearnt. A man may indeed attain a very great and a very " deep" degree of learning in comparison of his neighbours ; but, is he, therefore, the less likely to be self- conceited and puffed up ? But if by " drink deep" is meant, learn modesty, there cannot be a better admonition, or one in which I would more heartily concur.
I would, therefore, say, the first recommendation of the poet — " drink deep" — is impracticable. The other — " taste not" — that is to say, have no learning, is equally impossible. The most ignorant clown knows something ; and knows some- thing that is often dangerous. You will not find in the most remote part of Ireland, a peasant who does not know what money is ; who does not know the difference between a penny and a half-crown, and even between a half-crown and gold. But it is possible that this same peasant may think that the rich are the cause of all the sufferings of the poor ; and that if the rich were to be plundered of their property and massacred, the people would be better off. This shows the danger of a little knowledge ; but now the peasantry may learn a little more ; I am happy to say, in the class books of the National schools, they may learn that the rich are a benefit to their country, and that if they were destroyed, the country would be worse off than
206 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vm.
before. There is no one in this assembly, although I believe I am surrounded by persons of erudition and high attainments, "who is not — with respect to many branches of knowledge — in the perilous position of having a " little learning." I suppose that although not many of you are profound agriculturists, you all know the difference between a crop of turnips and a crop of oats. Although there may not be a dozen chemists in the room, I am sure you all could tell the difference between salts and sugar. And it is very possible, and also very useful, to have that slight smattering of chemistry which will enable one to distinguish from the salts used in medicine, the oxalic acid, with which, through mistake, several persons have been poisoned. Again, without being an eminent botanist, a person may know — what it is most important to know — the difference between cherries and the berries of the deadly Night-shade ; the want of which knowledge has cost many lives.
Again, there is no one present, even of those who are not profound politicians, who is not aware that we have rulers ; and is it not proper that he should understand that government is necessary to preserve our lives and property ? Is he likely to be a worse subject for knowing that ? That depends very much on the kind of government you wish to establish. If you wish to establish an unjust and despotic government — or, if you wish to set up a false religion, — then it would be advisable to avoid the danger of enlightening the people. But if you wish to maintain a good government, the more the people understand the advantages of good government, the more they will respect it ; and the more they know of true religion, the more they will value it.
There is nothing more general among uneducated people than a disposition to Socialism, and yet nothing more injurious to their own welfare. An equalization of wages would be most injurious to themselves; for it would, at once, destroy all emula- tion. All motives for the acquisition of skill, and for superior industry, would be removed. All the manufactures in this Ex- hibition would be utterly destroyed by the equalization of wages.
lect. m] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 207
Now it is but a little knowledge of political economy that is needed for the removal of this error ; but that little is highly useful.
Again, every one knows, no matter how ignorant of medi- cine, that there is such a thing as disease. But as an instance of the impossibility of the " taste not" recommendation of the poet, I will mention a fact, which perhaps is known to you all. When the cholera broke out in Poland, the peasantry of that country took it into their heads that the nobles were poisoning them in order to clear the country of them ; they believed the rich to be the authors of that terrible disease ; and the con- sequence was that the peasantry rose in masses, broke into the houses of the nobility, and finding some chloride of lime, which had been used for the purpose of disinfecting, they took it for the poison which had caused the disease, and they murdered them. Now, that was the sort of a " little learning" which was very dangerous.
Again, you cannot prevent people from believing that there is some superhuman Being who has an interest in human affairs. Some clowns in the Weald of Kent, who had been kept as much as possible on the " taste not" system, — left in a state of gross ignorance, — yet believed that the Deity did impart special powers to certain men : and that belief, coupled with excessive stupidity, led them to take an insane fanatic for a prophet. In this case, this " little learning" actually caused an insurrection in his favour, in order to make him king, priest, and prophet, of the British empire ; and many lives were sacrificed before this insane insurrection was put down. If a " little learning" is a " dangerous thing," you will have to keep people in a perfect state of idiotcy in order to avoid that danger. I would, there- fore, say that both the recommendations of the poet are im- -practicable.
The question then arises what are we to do ? Simply, to impress upon all people to labour to know how little their learning is ; how little, in comparison to what they remain ignorant of, they know. And the more they are taught, the
208 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS [lect. vra.
less likely they will be to overrate or mistake the character of their learning. Other things being equal, the more widely knowledge is diffused among mankind, the less danger there is of an ill-use being made of it. For, what is more mischievous to the tranquillity of a country than a clever > unprincipled, " patriot " demagogue, who makes use of a number of ignorant and uncultivated people as his tools? He gets the people to believe in him as a patriot, a guide, perhaps a prophet ; and they will do anything — commit any extravagances that he may direct. Who ever heard of an educated rabble? Who ever heard of such a thing as a riotous mob consisting of men of cultivated minds ? Such a thing is impossible ; for each would be thinking for himself, and all would be generals. The more widely, therefore, you diffuse intellectual culture, the greater is your chance of a peaceable, and well ordered com- munity. A little light is only dangerous to those who walk boldly on in the twilight — to those who do not see where they tread. But, I would say, seek not to remedy the danger by blinding the eyes.
Some persons, however, are not so much afraid of those who have but a little knowledge, as of what are called smatterers; — persons who are puffed up on account of their having learnt certain hard words — certain scientific and technical terms : from having attended lectures on what they have been pleased to term the various " ologies " — geology, biology, chronology, ornithology — which enable the smatterers to move along in society, as if they were well informed on all the " ologies." I admit this danger too, and have often pointed it out. But there is another danger — that of a scorn for all Science, — for all systematic knowledge, — combined with a self-sufficient confi- dence in what is called common sense and experience. And this danger, though not so often pointed out, is as great, if- not greater than that to which I have alluded, and far more hopeless. There are men who depend on " their experience " and their lt common sense " for everything — who are con- tinually obtruding what may be called the pedantry of their
lect. m] OP A LITTLE LEARNING. 209
" experience" and their "common sense" on the most abstruse subjects. They meet all scientific and logical argument with " common sense tells me I am right " — and, " my every day's experience confirms me in the opinion I have formed." If they are spoken to of Political Economy, they will immediately reply — " Ah, I know nothing of the dreams of Political Econ- omy " (this is the very phrase I have heard used) — " I never studied it — I never troubled myself about it; but there are some points upon which I have made up my mind, such as the questions of Free Trade, and Protection, and Poor Laws." " I do not profess" — a man will perhaps say — " to know anything of Medicine, or Pharmacy, or Anatomy, or any of those things ; but I know by experience that so and so is wholesome for sick people."
In former times men knew by experience that the earth stands still, and the sun rises and sets. Common sense taught them, that there could be no antipodes, since men could not stand with their heads downwards, like flies on the ceiling. Experience taught the King of Bantam that water can never become solid. And — to come to the case of human affairs — the experience and common sense of the most intelligent of the Roman historians, Tacitus, taught him that for a mixed government to be established, combining the elements of Royalty, Aristocracy and Democracy would be next to impos- sible ; and that if it were established, it must speedily be dissolved. Yet had he lived to the present day, he would have learned that the establishment and continuance of such a form of government was not impossible. So much for experience ! The experience of some persons resembles the learning of a man who has turned over the pages of a great many books without ever having learned to read: and their so-called common sense is often in reality, nothing else than common prejudice.
We may rest assured then, that those who affect to dread and despise what they call a smattering of science, and trust to experience and common sense, have no security against w. e. P
210 ON THE SUPPOSED DANGERS, ETC. [lect. vm.
error, or against presumptuous confidence in error, if they are deficient in real sound judgment, and in modesty ; and with these qualities, no one will be in danger of self-sufficiency and pedantry from the acquisition of scientific truth, be it much or little.
Be not deterred therefore, I would say, by the dread of being called smatterers, from seeking a little knowledge where more is not within your reach : only take care not to over- estimate your knowledge, be it small or great.
These Lectures will never, I am convinced, deter any one from reading, and from studying systematically what he would, but for these Lectures, have so studied. They are more likely to incite some to read and inquire concerning subjects to which they might otherwise have never given a thought. And to all, the little knowledge they may impart may prove useful in various ways, and not least in giving them some notion of the vast amount remaining behind of knowledge which they have not acquired.
REVIEWS.
I.
EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
, Facts and Observations respecting Canada and the United States of America ; affording a Comparative View of the inducements to Emigration presented in those Countries : to which is added an Appendix of Practical Instructions to Emi- grant Settlers in the British Colonies. By Charles F. Grece, Member of the Montreal and Quebec Agricultural Societies ; and Author of Essays on Husbandry, addressed to the Canadian Farmers. 8vo. pp. 172. Loudon. 1819.
The Emigrant's Guide to Upper Canada; or, Sketches of the Present State of that Province, collected from a Residence therein during the Years 1817, 1818, 1819. Interspersed with Reflections. By C. Stuart, Esq., Retired Captain of the Honour- able the East India Company's Service, and one of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace for the Western District of Upper Canada. 12mo. pp. 335. London. 1820.
A Visit to the Province of Upper Canada, in 1819. By James Strachan. 8vo. pp. 221. Aberdeen. 1820.
We had occasion lately1 to discuss generally the subject of emigration ; but it is too important a topic to be speedily exhausted of its interest: and the public attention has been of late so particularly directed to the Cape, that it becomes a duty to prevent, as far as our influence extends, an undue neglect of our North American colonies.
In fact, the growth and prosperity of the Cape and of Canada, do not necessarily interfere with each other : both are •well deserving the most careful attention of government, and both hold out great advantages to individual emigrants ; while these advantages are in many respects so different in the two
1 In a former Number of the Quarterly Review.
p 3
212 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
colonies, as very materially to lessen the rivalship between them Those whom health or inclination leads to prefer a much warmer climate than our own, will naturally prefer the Cape : those, on the other hand, who wish for a climate and soil, and produce, and culture, the most nearly approaching that to which they have been accustomed, will be more nearly suited, we appre- hend, in Upper Canada, than in any other spot they can fix upon. The comparative shortness of the voyage also, will be likely to influence the decision of many emigrants ; and the number of colonists of British origin already fixed there, will be an inducement to others, especially to such as have con- nexions or friends among the number.
Of those, however, who resolve to settle in North America, a very large proportion fix on some part or other (the western territory especially) of the United States, in preference to our own provinces; a preference which, in many instances at least, arises, as we are convinced on the best authority, partly from the exaggerated descriptions of Mr. Birkbeck and others, of the superior advantages held out by the United States, and partly from the misapprehensions and misrepresentations which pre- vail respecting Canada. Of the effect produced by those exaggerations, a remarkable instance has been transmitted to us by a most respectable correspondent in Upper Canada. A person went from the district of Newcastle, (selling his farm there,) and another, from the Bay of Quinty, allured by the hopes of better success in the United States ; one of them looked about for an eligible spot to the north and east of Washington ; the other in the western territory : but both ultimately returned, and fixed themselves in the settlements which they had quitted.
The ignorance and misrepresentation also with respect to our own provinces are astonishingly "great and wide-spread : Lower and Upper Canada are perpetually, even by those who ought to know better, confounded in a great degree in what regards their climate, productions, and inhabitants. Many persons have a vague general idea of Canada as a cold uncom- fortable region, inhabited by people of French extraction : but even those whom a glance at the map has satisfied of the widp
EMIGKATION TO CANADA. 213
interval between the extremities of Lower and of Upper Canada, may not be prepared to expect (and indeed the interval of latitude is not sufficient to account for it) so great a difference as between five months of winter and three; or to believe that the Upper Pro- vince enjoys, on the whole, a much warmer climate than this island.
We need not indeed wonder at the prevalence of erroneous opinions on this subject among the mass of the community, when we find even official persons stating in general terms, that " our North American colonies labour under the disadvantage of a barren soil, and an ungenial climate P* How remote this representation is from the truth, may be readily inferred from the remarkable fact, that, notwithstanding the high price of labour, and the utter worthlessness, in most cases, of timber, the settler not only can always find persons willing to clear his land for him, on condition of having the first crop from it, but is considered as having made, if he resorts to this method, a very disadvantageous bargain, and much overpaid the labour. Nor can that be called an ungenial climate which brings to per- fection, not only all the fruits of the earth which this country can boast, but others, which we are precluded from cultivating. We need only mention the maize or Indian-corn, which would be an invaluable acquisition to the British agriculturist, if our ordinary summers were sufficient to ripen it, from its producing on moderate soils an immense return, frequently above sixty bushels per acre, of a grain particularly serviceable in feeding all kinds of cattle and poultry, and furnishing several nutritious and not unpalatable articles of diet for Man.
Strongly impressed with the importance of our Canadian possessions, and the desirableness of having some authentic and practical information respecting them as widely diffused as possible, we were much gratified with the appearance of the works whose titles are prefixed to this Article.
Mr. Grece's is evidently the production of a plain, sensible, practical man. He has manifestly no great skill or experience in authorship ; but, what is much more important, he seems to possess those requisites in the subject of which he treats ; and it is no slight recommendation to the greater part of his readers,
214 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
and we may add, to his reviewers, that he seems altogether exempt from the ambition of making a book, and conveys his information briefly and plainly, with the air of a man who writes, not because he wants to sag something, but because he has something to sag.
As a Canadian, his statement of the comparative advantages of settling in his own country, and in the United States, will naturally be exposed to the suspicion of partiality : but those who will judge for themselves by a perusal of his book, cannot fail, we think, to be impressed with an appearance of candour and veracity ; and where he expresses himself the most strongly, he is borne out by the testimony of unexceptionable witnesses.
" And now let us pursue our comparison of these and other ad- vantages of the Canadas with those which are so pompously held out to settlers in the western territories of the United States.
" The difference as to distance, and the consequent expense of travelling, by sea and land, have already been sufficiently noticed ; as also have the relative situations of the respective markets from the abodes of the growers in Canada and in the Ohio States, by which it has been shewn that in a much less time than a boat can pass between the Ohio country to the Orleans depot, and return, might a ship make a voyage from Quebec to Europe or the West Indies, and return again to the Canadian port.
" Let us suppose, however, that an emigrant has surmounted the perilous and expensive voyage from Europe to the western territory ; on his arrival there what a host of difficulties, expenses, and inconveniences has he got to combat.
" Perhaps, with a delicate wife and a family of children, he finds himself seated under a tree in the midst of a wild and trackless region, where not a single human face besides those of his own retinue can be seen ; not a hut or a cabin can he behold ; and the alluring stories he had been told about luxuriant natural meadows, called prairies, waiting only for the hand of the mower and a day's sun to be converted into food for his horses and cattle, turn out to have been lavished upon wide open fields of grass, towering as high as the first floor window of the comfortable house he has forsaken in Europe, and penetrating with its tough fibrous roots into the earth beyond the reach of the ploughshare, requiring the operation of fire ere the land can be converted to any useful purpose.
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" Under a burning sun, and with but little shelter from the foliage of trees, or the retreats of the forest, he has to dig wells ere he can quench his thirst, there being no cooling and refreshing springs ! and although he may still hope that time will enable him to surmount all his difficulties, and reconcile his complaining, per- haps upbraiding, family to their isolated condition, his heart will be apt to sicken within him, especially when he finds that he must wander many miles in search of some one to assist him in the very commencement of his operations. At length, however, that assist- ance is procured ; but of what species of beings does it consist ? — Alas ! alas ! they are those very unfortunate wretches whose degraded condition he has, while in Europe, learnt most humanely to commiserate." — pp. G2 — 64.
There is much practical detail in Mr. Grece's book, which is calculated to be of great service to emigrants ; the chief obstacle to whose success appears to be either the misapplication of their little capital, or the consumption of it in fruitless delays, while they are hesitating what -spot to fix on, and what measures to adopt.
" Emigrants intending to proceed to Upper Canada take their departure from Montreal to La Chine, a distance of nine miles. From thence they go to Prescot in boats, 111 miles. From thence there is a steam boat to Kingston, wdiere there are other steamboats proceeding to York, the capital and seat of government for the Upper Province. After landing passengers, the boat proceeds to Queenstown, on the Niagara frontier. Between Queenstown and lake Erie there is a portage of eighteen miles. The total expense from Montreal is generally considered to amount to about five pounds each person.
" Those who proceed farther take carriage past the portage, to avoid the Niagara falls, and embark in vessels on lake Erie for Amhurstburgh on the Detroit river. Few people, however, pro- ceed that distance, except for curiosity : they generally concentrate themselves near market towns, where labourers are plentiful, and artificers are to be found to perform the different kinds of work that may be required. There are, nevertheless, many extensive settle- ments in the Erie country.
" Those persons who wish to proceed to the Ottawa river will find a packet-boat at La Chine, which leaves that place every Sunday morning, from May to November, for St. Andrew's and
216 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
Carillion, being the foot of the rapids on that river, extending about nine miles. A steam boat is expected to ply between the head of these rapids and the river Rideau, the present summer, to carry goods and passengers to the Perth and Richmond settlements, where, during the summer of 1818, a road wTas made to commu- nicate with the Ottawa. Another road has been made through the townships of Chatham, Grenville, the seigniory of the Petit Nation, the townships of Norfolk, Templeton, and Hull, forming a regular communication by land from the above settlement to Montreal and Kingston in Upper Canada. — pp. 51, 53.
" As every article of real utility, and even of luxury, can be easily procured in the Canadian cities, and that too at nearly as easy a rate as in London, emigrants need not expend their cash in goods for sale, but preserve as much specie as possible. The emigrant may, however, provide himself with such articles of clothing as are suitable to the climate : viz. coarse Yorkshire cloth trowsers and round jacket, a long great coat, striped cotton shirts, and worsted stockings, with boots or high shoes. For the summer dress he may provide Russia-duck trowsers, and smock frock. He may also take out bed and bedding. Kitchen furniture may or may not be taken out ; he might, however, include a few rough carpenters' tools. Axes, chains, hoes, and ploughs for new land, are made in Canada, better adapted to the work than can be had in any part of Europe."- — pp. 58 — 60.
The system of husbandry pursued in both the Canadas appears to be still very defective ; a circumstance which ought to be taken into account by those who estimate the quality of the land from reports of the produce. We mean defective in comparison of what it might and should be under actual circumstances ; for we are well aware that it would be absurd in the case of a new colony to draw our notions of a perfect system of husbandry from what is considered such in Great Britain. The ratios of the price of an acre of land in a state of nature to that of a day's wages to a common labourer, in the two countries, may be taken on a rough estimate, in the one case, as more than two hundred to one, in the other, as some- thing less than five to one; a difference which must in many points occasion a material distinction in the mode of agriculture which prudence would suggest in each. The want of capital
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 217
also, under which most of the colonists labour, is an insur- mountable obstacle to many improvements which would answer abundantly if they could be carried into effect : but there appears to be also, a great deficiency of skill ; which indeed to any one who considers the materials of which colonies are generally composed, will by no means be matter of wonder.
Mr. Grece seems to have exerted himself very laudably, and not altogether unsuccessfully, for the improvement of his countrymen in this respect; his agricultural essays having attracted great and deserved attention.
How much the progress of Canadian agriculture would be accelerated by the diffusion of scientific knowledge, if not among the whole body of the farmers, at least among their leaders and instructors, may be conjectured from the following extract from the appendix to Mr. Grece's work, under the head " Plaster of Paris."
" Thi3 valuable manure, almost unknown, though very easy to be obtained, merits the attention of every farmer ; there is scarcely a farm in the Provinces but it might be applied to with advantage. The practice of nine years on the following soils and crops may suffice to prove its quality. On a piece of poor yellow loam, I tried three grain crops without success ; with the last, which fol- lowed a hoe crop, I laid it down with barley : the return was little more than the seed. The grass seed took very well. In the month of May the following year, I strewed powder of plaster, at the rate of one minot and one peck to the arpent. In duly, the piece of land being mowed, the quantity of grass was so great that it was not possible to find room to dry it on the land where it grew. The produce was five large loads of hay to the arpent. It continued good for five years. A trial was made with plaster on a piece of white clay laid down with clover and timothy — the grass was very thin. After the plaster was strewed, it improved so much as to be distinguished from any other part of the field ; the sixth year after, the field was broke up in the spring, and sowed with pease : the spot where the plaster had been put produced twice as much as any other part of the field. The haulm was of a deep green colour, nor were they affected with the drought, like the others on the part of the field where no plaster had been put. A trial was made on a strong loam ; the crop, Indian corn, manured in the hills
218 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
with old stable dung, lime, and plaster : the stable dung surpassed the other two, the Indian corn being finest where that was applied. In the spring of the following year, the field was ploughed and sowed with pease ; where the plaster and lime had been the year before, the pease were as strong again as in any other part of the field. I tried plaster on cabbages and turnips, but did not perceive any good effect. From the frequent trials of this manure on various soils, it is evident that it is applicable to both strong and light soils for top dressings of succulent plants.
" Method of reducing it. — Take an axe and break the stone to the size of a nut; then take a flat stone two feet in diameter, and break it into powder with a wooden mallet. It must be reduced very fine ; those that have an iron pestle and mortar can pound it expeditiously that way. Should plaster meet its deserved attention, it might give employment to people in the houses of correction to reduce it to powder for the use of the farmers, when no other objects of industry present themselves.
" In order to give an idea of the measure of a ton of plaster in stone, it will measure three feet square on the base and two feet two inches high, English measure. This is cited in order to assist persons that may wish to buy from the vessels going up the river, where weights cannot be had to weigh. That which is taken from the mine is best, and is of a silver grey colour ; that from off the surface is red, and is of less value. A ton will produce fourteen minots of powder wdien broke ; a man can break eighty pounds in one day, in a mortar of six inches diameter, in its natural state. Having a great deal to prepare for the spring of 1817, 1 bad it broke about the size of a goose egg, and then put into the oven of a double stove; it remained about half an hour, after which a man could reduce two hundred and ten pounds in twelve hours, with a sledge hammer, pounding it on a flat stone. As this is an experiment, time must determine whether the heat diminishes its quality." — Facts, &c. pp. 147, 150.
A very slight knowledge of chemistry would have decided this important question, and led the Canadian farmers at once to the result which they will probably arrive at gradually by experiments, viz. that heat, abstracting nothing from the sul- phate of lime, except its water, cannot lessen its value as a manure ; and consequently, that its complete calcination, which renders it so friable as almost entirely to supersede the la-
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 219
borious process just described, would be the fittest preparation1. To any one who considers the great value of this manure, to- gether with the high price of labour, and the cheapness of fuel in the newly settled districts, this single improvement will appear of incalculable importance.
Captain Stuart's book is in some respects recommended by the circumstance of its not being written by a Canadian. One who is familiar with a different state of society is at least the better qualified to convey to those similarly circumstanced a clear idea of the state of a new colony ; besides that he may be expected, by taking more enlarged views, to form a better estimate of it. Both kinds of authority, however, have their respective advantages; and it is therefore most desirable to be enabled, as in the present case, to have recourse to both.
There is much interesting information in this book ; and it conveys an impression of the author's sincerity and good in- tentions. Unfortunately, however, he is deeply smitten with the ambition of being an eloquent writer: a character for which he is so little qualified, that we cannot forbear applying to him the celebrated precept which is said to have been given by some austere critic to a young author ; viz. " whenever he had written anything that he thought particularly fine, to scratch it out." Captain Stuart has not yet attained even correctness in the use of his language ; (an acquisition which should precede every attempt at ornament;) and in good taste he is lamentably deficient.
We refrain from giving any specimens of his unsuccessful attempts at sublimity, because we think too well of the design and of the probable utility of the work, to have any pleasure in drawing ridicule upon it : but in case the author should have any thoughts of re-casting it in a second edition, or of publishing
i Sir D". Davy is of opinion, that this substance is essential as a component part of many vegetables of the description which are usually called grass crops ; and hence accounts for the extraordinary effects which in many cases it has produced.
220 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
any thing further on the subject, we would beg leave to advise him to omit all extraneous matter, and say what he has to say on the subject in a plain way ; leaving solid arguments and statements of facts to plead their own cause, without calling in the aid of high-flown declamation. Let him absolutely for- swear the use of notes of admiration ; and let him express his religious sentiments in their proper place, boldly and strongly, but undebased by the cant-language of a religious party. It is, indeed, most consolatory to find a settler and promoter of settlements in Canada, strongly impressed with a sense of the paramount importance of religion. To a layman, and not least to a military man, this is peculiarly creditable ; and we fear that such a spirit is in few places more wanted : but great disservice is done to the cause by those injudicious friends of it, who, setting calm discretion and good taste at defiance, by their manner of introducing and discussing religious topics, and by the style which they employ, tend to excite disgust and contempt in the less serious minds, and in those of more sober reflection suspicion of themselves as enthusiasts :
" Haud illud quserentes num sine sensu,
Tempore num faciant alieno." —
We must in justice however assure our readers, that they will find Captain Stuart, in every thing that relates to Canadian affairs, deserving of much greater confidence. Many of his re- marks are just and important ; and in his statements of facts we have had the good fortune to possess most satisfactory means of verifying his accuracy. On the whole, there is more good sense and candour in his work than one would at first sight expect to find.
On the subject of the deeded lands, (a most important one,) Captain Stuart has a passage which is very much to the purpose :
" The province, originally an immense wilderness, yet possessed of a soil and climate which promised everything, presented attrac- tions to its first visitors which naturally produced a corresponding effect. They (as other men would have been) were at once desirous of appropriating to themselves the most fertile tracts, and of avoiding
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 221
the trouble and expense of rendering them productive. They necessarily foresaw that in the course of years the country would be peopled ; that as population increased, the fertile tracts, in this manner secured, would be enhanced in value ; and that thus at length an important property would be obtained for their posterity without any exertion or care of their own. They probably foresaw not the evils necessarily resulting from such property so abandoned to na- ture. Let every man, before he condemns others for this conduct, lay his hand upon his heart, and ask himself, if, under such circum- stances, he would not have done the same. There doubtlessly may be men who would not have done so ; but, for my part, though I now irresistibly perceive its pernicious consequences, and lament them, and earnestly desire, as far as may be consistent with justice, to have them rectified ; yet I have no hesitation in acknowledging, that in every probability such would have been my own conduct ; and I blush thus to find in myself, amidst a thousand others, this new corroboration of the darkness and guilt of my nature.
" Under this influence, however, blind, and selfish, and base as it is, immense tracts of some of the finest lands in the province have been secured by possessors, who either no longer form even a nominal part of its population, or who, dwelling amidst its plains, revel in anticipation upon the benefits which their sloth shall derive from the labours of others. Having obtained the grant, they are gone whither their more immediate interests or affections have led them (as others would have done), leaving their possessions here to improve in value by the toils and exertions of others ; to whom, as far as depends upon them, they yield not only no reciprocation of benefit, but produce even a most positive and glaring disadvantage ; or they reside in the province, keeping back their fertile possessions from more industrious hands, and leaving them in the wildness of nature, to become eventually valuable by that very industry which they counteract and chill.
" Thus wherever you go, wastes of deeded land, sometimes the reward of merit or of service, as often the fruit of falsehood and intrigue, glare in your face, and withstand you under the mighty barrier of law, which protects them, while, with all the stupidity and sordidness of the dog in the manger, they abuse it." — p. 176 — 179.
To illustrate more strongly what the author has here said, we will mention a fact which has come to our knowledge re- specting the settlement of Perth, first inserting his description of that settlement :
222 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
" Struck by events of the last war with the risks incident to the navigation of the head of St. Lawrence, in case of contest with the United States, it became an anxious object with the government to provide for the public service another route more sheltered from those risks ; and the result of the research produced by this desire was the choice of Perth, as an original port, for the prosecu ion of the work.
"At the distance cf about forty miles from Brockville, the nearest and most favourable frontier to it, and far out of the route of common observation, this place would probably have slumbered unknown, beneath the retired wildness of its native forests for another half century, had not this circumstance called it forth ; and its remoteness, even when thus produced, required for it a fostering hand to support what had been founded. The assistance of govern- ment was liberally advanced ; a fine soil, with a salubrious climate, corroborated the effort ; the unusual impulse produced a correspond- ing effect ; and Perth, though commenced but the other day (that is, about four years ago), already assumes the appearance of a flour- ishing colony. The extension of the settlement is continuing both towards Kingston and the Ottawas ; and the spirit which planned and supports it sees this great object of public utility apparently approaching to a favourable conclusion." — pp. 42, 43.
Now it was originally intended that Perth should be fixed on the River Rideau, (not Radeau, as Capt. Stuart calls it,) but this was found impracticable, from the government-lands not extending far enough in the requisite direction, but being in- terrupted by a tract of land (left in a state of nature and waiting to become valuable) which had been granted to the heirs of General Arnold ; in the rear of which tract (on the banks of a comparatively insignificant stream) the settlement was ultimately- placed, and through which a road was necessarily cut, to open a communication with the rest of the province, at a heavy public expense, and to the incalculable profit of the owners of that grant.
The subject of the government and clergy-reserves also deserves consideration in many points of view. The obstacle to improvement which they present, is the same with that of the pri- vate grants above noticed, and ought, if possible, to be removed.
But a more serious and urgent evil is the inadequate pre- sent provision for the clergy. We are far from agreeing with Captain Stuart in his apprehensions of evil hereafter, from a liberal independent provision for the clergy ; or, in his " indiffer-
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ence as to the denomination of protestants" on which the support of government should be bestowed1, but we heartily sympathise in his dissatisfaction at the spiritual state of Canada in the mean time. It matters little that we have a prospect at some remote period of having a numerous and well-supported clergy in the province, if its present inhabitants are suffered to remain in a state of heathenism ; for, besides that they have souls to be saved as well as their posterity, what chance of success will the clergy have who are appointed to superintend parishes in which religion shall have been for a long time wholly un thought of? — in which several generations, reckoning back to the present time, (we speak advisedly,) shall have successively grown up without baptism $ We do not impute blame to any particular parties ; but it is quite clear that, if this state of things be suffered to go on without redress in a part of an empire calling itself christian, a heavy responsibility must attach somewhere. — If we slumber, we must expect that anabaptists, methodists, and sectaries of all descriptions from the United States, who are already making great progress in Canada, will completely supplant the church. Their exertions cannot be blamed, since they are, in many instances at least, not sowing divisions among Christians, but making Christians ; nor is their success even to be deprecated, unless we exert ourselves, since any form of Christianity is better than none.
" There are at present in Upper Canada twelve or fifteen clergy- men of the established church, and not quite so many churches. These are supported partly by the government and partly by the Society for propagating the Gospel. I need not add (stationary as they are, or at least confined to narrow circuits.) how totally insuffi- cient such a provision must be for the spiritual wants of a secluded population, scattered over a frontier of nearly on« thousand miles. To the mass of the people it is almost as nothing.
" Yet the province has not been left entirely thus destitute. The spirit of the establishment seems improving and the Baptists,
1 This indifference does not extend to the Roman Catholics ; so that we presume he believes that there is a kind of charm in the name of Protestant, which secures those who hear it from all essential errors.
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Methodists, and Presbyterians, have concurred in keeping alive in it the worship of God. Of these, the most active and the most successful are the Methodists." — pp. Ill, 112.
We have good grounds for believing that Captain Stuart's opinion of the American methodists is far too favourable : they are for the most part gross and ignorant enthusiasts, and actuated by a spirit of bitter hostility against the English methodists, who are a far more respectable body of men. The existence of a national jealousy, so strong as thus to prevail over religious agreement, is well worthy of attention, as it may hereafter lead to important consequences.
But, whatever may be the character of the sectaries, it is surely incumbent on those who, as individuals, profess themselves members of the Church of England, and, as a community, acknowledge that church as an ally of the State, and a part of the constitution, to provide for the instruction of their fellow- subjects in its principles.
Among the measures which appear to be called for, with a view to this object, one of the most obvious seems to be, the appointment of an archdeacon, or some other functionary, to exercise, in the Upper Province, (unless indeed it were con- stituted a distinct See,) those ecclesiastical duties which cannot possibly be adequately performed in person by the Bishop of Quebec. It would, in fact, be an office of no small labour, to afford the requisite superintendence to the affairs of Upper Canada ; such is the extent of territory, the difficulty of travel- ling and the number of new demands continually arising for pastors and for places of worship.
Mr. Strachan's book is by far the most interesting that we have seen on the subject ; and we strongly recommend it to those of our readers who wish for full information respecting Upper Canada, compressed into a very .moderate compass, and conveyed in an unpretending and yet agreeable form. The author presents us with his own first impressions as a stranger, together with the accurate local knowledge obtained from his
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brother, a settler of long standing, who has access to the best sources of information : and accordingly he appears to have fully made good the profession of his preface, " that almost every thing which an emigrant going to Upper Canada wishes to know, will be found in his small volume."
His account of the state of religion in the province (a sub- ject which he treats of like a sincere, but sober-minded Chris- tian) is such as fully to bear out the remarks which we have already made : it is such as ought to encourage, but not to satisfy us. The baptism of some adults by his brother, at a chapel which was indebted for its existence to his exertions, is well described : the fact which he subjoins may create surprise in the minds of some of our readers, and is certainly well worthy of attention. " On our return home," he says, " I in- quired of my brother whether such occurrences frequently hap- pened." " Since the building of this church," he replied, " I have baptized nearly 400 persons, half of them grown up."
Mr. Strachan gives a very interesting account of a conver- sation at which he was present, between two American citizens on the subject of their grand canal : (of which a detailed de- scription may be seen in the Appendix to Mr. Grece's Book, No. 1, p. 81,) one of them he represents as appearing by no means convinced of the commercial advantages which others anticipated from the scheme :
'•' It is so easy, (turning to us,) gentlemen, to improve the navi- gation of the St. Lawrence, that all our efforts to divert the trade will prove in vain. And it is well that it should be so ; for the produce of the vast countries which surround us will be enough for both. It is not as an instrument of commerce that I admire the canal which we are digging, but as an emblem of peace. Had w7e not despaired of conquering the Canadas, the hope of which pro- duced the late war, this great work had never been commenced." — p. 107.
The information which the author subjoins respecting the proposed improvements in the inland navigation of Canada, is the more valuable from the circumstance of his brother being, w. E. Q
226 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
if we are not misinformed, the person to whom the province is principally indebted for the suggestion of the plan.
" Ships can come up to Montreal ; but here dangerous rapids commence, and continue nine miles. The canal, to avoid them, may require a length of ten miles ; and is now beginning under an incorporated company. It is to pass behind Montreal, and have a lateral cut from the St. Lawrence, at the entrance of the town. The ground is easy of excavation, and the supply of water inex- haustible : in two or three years it will be open for transport. The whole expense is not expected to exceed £80,000; and such is the trade that must pass through it, that the stock-holders will, in two or three years after it is in operation, share their maximum, or 15 per cent.
" Lake Ontario is reckoned 200 feet above the St. Lawrence at Montreal, which may be divided into three unequal parts. From the head of the St, Lawrence, where it leaves the Lake, to the Rapid Plat, a distance of ninety miles, there is not more than forty feet fall ; from the Rapid Plat to Lake St. Francis, a distance of forty miles, there is a fall of fifty-five ; the next twenty-six miles, called Lake St. Francis, show some current, and may give a declivity of six feet. From the Coteau du Lac to Lake St. Lewis, nearly twenty-two miles, the fall may be estimated at fifty- seven feet; and the Lachine Rapids forty-two feet, in a distance of twelve miles. It is obvious that much of conjecture enters into this calculation ; but it will not be found very wide of the truth.
" To allow sloops and steam-boats to go from Montreal to Lake St. Francis, two canals are necessary of about equal difficulty — the Lachine canal just begun, and the Cedar canal of much the same length. This canal commences near the junction of the Ottawa, or Grand River, and the St. Lawrence, and enters Lake St. Francis near the east end. The estimated expense £75,000; so that £155,000 would cure all the defects of the St. Lawrence within the limits of Lower Canada. The impediments in Upper Canada are less considerable ; it is not thought a greater sum than £60,000 would be necessary to remove every impediment. But the pro- vincial revenue is too limited at present to admit the disbursement of this sum, small as it is, and great as the advantages must be to the colony. The House of Assembly, in conjunction with the legislative council, sensible of these advantages and their present inability, have petitioned his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, through his excellency Sir Peregrine Maitland, for a grant of 100,000 acres of land, to assist in such improvements; and as the
EMIGKATION TO CANADA. 227
request goes home favoured by his excellency, there is little doubt of its being favourably received.
" Now this quantity of land, if located in a favourable situation, will sell for two and a half dollars per acre ; that is, £62,500 for the whole, or £2500 beyond our estimate of the necessary improve- ments. But should the sum wanted exceed this ten or twelve thousand pounds, no impediment would arise, for the legislature would very willingly provide for this contingency.
" Having thus, at a small expense, opened a direct communi- cation between Niagara and the ocean, the next great object is the junction of the two Lakes Erie and Ontario, which may be more easily effected than is commonly supposed. There are several parts of the Chippawa where it is navigable for vessels of any reasonable size within fifteen miles of Lake Ontario. For thirty miles the Chippawa resembles a canal : the current almost imperceptible, and very little affected by rains ; the channel deep and without ob- struction. A canal of fourteen miles would reach to the head ot the mountain, close on Lake Ontario, in several places ; four locks would be sufficient in this distance. — The height of the hill within a distance of two miles of Lake Ontario is 250 feet, requiring upwards of thirty locks, all very near one another. The great expense of so many locks, and the time lost in passing and repassing them, seem to point out a rail-way as more advantageous.. The basin at the end of the canal should be formed at some distance from the top of the hill, making the rail-way, with its windings, about four miles before it reached the wharfs on Lake Ontario. The distribution of the height of 250 feet would hardly be per- ceptible in this distance. The canal, fourteen miles long, will cost £40,000 ; and the rail-way, four miles, £10,000 ; and £10,000 for stores and wharfs — forming an aggregate of £60,000 for joining the two Lakes.
" After passing into Lake Erie, to which there is no difficulty, from the mouth of the Chippawa, except a mile of rapid water at Black Rock, the navigation is open through Lakes Sinclair, Huron, and Michigan ; and a trifling expense at the Strait of St. Mary will enable vessels to proceed into Lake Superior.
" There is one other improvement connected with this line which I consider of great importance to a large and wealthy section of the province, namely, a communication between the Grand River and Chippawa. The Grand River is navigable for boats to a great distance from its mouth. It abounds in mill seats of the best description, capable of turning any machinery whatever; and the country through which it runs is of the first quality, and must in
Q3
228 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
a short time become rich in the production of grain. It would, there- fore, be of infinite advantage to possess a water communication to Lake Ontario, which may be effected by a canal of five miles in length ; for so near do the Grand River and Chippawa approach to one another. This would complete the main line of internal navigation, and bring the greater part of the province close to the ocean. What is peculiarly encouraging, there is no expense to be incurred which can be con- sidered beyond our reach. The communication between the two lakes will not be required for a few years, as the surplus produce for some time will find an immediate market among the new settlers, who are flocking in great numbers to the London and Western districts ; and before that period elapses the provincial treasury will enable the legislature to appropriate, without any difficulty, a sum sufficient to pay the interest of the capital laid out in making the canals, rail-ways, &c." — pp. 10S — 112.
Of the whole process by which lands are cleared, settled, and improved, Mr. Strachan gives, in an unaffected style, the most distinct and graphic descriptions we have met with in any of the numerous publications on the subject : and his book may, on the whole, be safely recommended as the best calculated, not only to amuse the curious, but also to afford to those who have thoughts of emigrating, clear notions (which in such a case is a matter somewhat difficult as well as important) of the very novel state of things they have to expect.
We cannot dismiss the subject without noticing a little more fully than we have yet done some prevailing objections both against emigration in general and emigration in the direction of Canada in particular; and we shall be enabled to point out, as we proceed, the nature of the advantages it promises.
It is objected, in the first place, that all hopes of counter- acting by emigration the evils of a redundant population must be utterly illusory ; since the necessary expense of the voyage and outfit would place the remedy beyond the reach of those very persons for whose benefit it is proposed. Mr. Malthus, therefore, concludes, from his review of the history of several settlements, " that the reason why the resource of emigration has so long continued to be held out as a remedy to redun-
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dant population is, because, from the natural unwillingness of people to desert their native country, and the difficulty of clearing and cultivating fresh soil, it never is, nor can be, adequately adopted." — B. iii. c. iv. p. 301, 8vo.
And, accordingly, when it is proposed to afford, either at the expense of government, or from charitable contributions, such assistance to persons willing to emigrate as may enable them to surmount the obstacles opposed to them, it is not unfrequently answered that their maintenance at home would be less expensive : while on the other hand it is urged that those who have such a capital as to enable them to emigrate with advantage, though it would be most unjust to prohibit them from taking that step, yet ought by no means to be encouraged in it, because the capital which they withdraw is so much loss to the mother-country. These objections, how- ever, though undoubtedly sound and weighty under certain modifications, will not bear to be pushed to the utmost extreme; and no one has been more ready to admit this than the candid and able writer already cited. In a passage almost immediately following the one we have given, he says, " it is clear, therefore, that with any view of making room for an unrestricted increase of population, emigration is perfectly in- adequate ; but as a partial and temporary expedient, and with a view to the more general cultivation of the earth, and the wider extension of civilization, it seems to be both useful and proper." And in the supplement to his great work, which was published in 1817, he expresses himself strongly as to the occasional expediency of emigration :
'" If, from a combination of external and internal causes, a very great stimulus should be given to the population of a country for ten or twelve years together, and it should then comparatively cease, it is clear that labour will continue flowing into the market, with almost undiminished rapidity, while the means of employing and paying it have been essentially contracted. It is precisely under these circumstances that emigration is most useful as a temporary relief; and it is in these circumstances that Great Britain finds herself placed at present. Though no emigration
230 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
should take place, the population will by degrees conform itself to the state of the demand for labour; but the interval must be marked by the most severe distress, the amount of which can scarcely be reduced by any human efforts; because, though it may be mitigated at particular periods, and as it affects particular classes, it will be proportionally extended over a larger space of time and a greater number of people. The only real relief in such a case is emigration; and the subject at the present moment is well worthy the attention of the government, both as a matter of humanity and policy." — On Population, vol. ii. pp. 304, 305.
In fact, the expediency of resorting to emigration for the relief of a distressed population must always depend on a variety of circumstances, which are to be distinctly considered in each parti- cular case. But it should not be forgotten that there are cases in which that mode of relief might be suggested by the wisest economy, even when the immediate support of the individuals in question might cost less at home : if, at a somewhat heavier expense, we have a fair prospect of getting rid of a permanent, and perhaps (as in the case of an increasing family) a growing burden ; — if we can, by such an expedient, not only provide for the individuals in question, but benefit others of the same class, by lessening the injurious competition in an overstocked market of labourers, — we may attain advantages which would have entirely escaped the view of a more short-sighted calculator.
As for the apprehensions of impoverishment to this country by the transfer of her capital to the other side of the Atlantic, we are convinced that they are altogether visionary. In the first place, we may be sure that whatever inducements we may hold out, few, after all, will be found willing to carry their capital to Canada, who have a reasonable assurance of deriving from it the means of living in independence and prosperity at home ; and those who have not such a prospect, are probably consulting the interest of their country, as well as their own, by emigrating. A man, who in the vigour of life, may have acquired a little capital of £200 or £300, may feel, under many circumstances, a very reasonable doubt whether he shall be enabled so to provide for the wants of a numerous family
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 231
and for the infirmities of old age, as to be secure against becoming dependent, for his children or himself, on parochial relief or private charity. Surely, in this case, his emigration to a country where such a capital, with common prudence and industry, will ensure an independent competence to himself ? and comparative affluence to his posterity, is rather a relief, than a loss to his own.
In the second place, since, whatever opinion may be enter- tained respecting this loss of capital, it is quite certain that men ivill transfer it from one country, or one employment, to another, when they find their advantage in so doing, it should be the ob- ject of the politician to direct that stream which it would not be possible, even were it desirable, to dam up. We would be the last to encourage an illiberal jealousy of the United States, or grudge them the advantages they may derive from this country ; but it is not going too far to feel a preference, at least, for our own colonies ; — to wish that they should receive that accession of num- bers and of capital from English emigration, which has hitherto, in a majority of instances, been intercepted by a foreign power.
Lastly, it should be remembered that a commercial country, like this, should not consider all the capital carried out of it as so much loss : the market for our commodities, which is afforded by a flourishing and increasing colony, is a source of wealth to the mother-country far exceeding probably what would have been produced by the amount of the capital bestowed on it, if retained at home. It is speaking, we are persuaded, far within compass, to say that for every £1000 carried out to Upper Canada, 500 acres of fertile land, which would otherwise have remained an unprofitable desert, will have been within twenty years brought under cultivation. Let any one calculate the supplies of corn and other produce which these 500 acres will afford us, and the demand for our various manufactures which they will create in return. Mr. Malthus speaks indeed of the impolicy of " founding a great empire for the sole purpose of raising up a people of customers ;" but neither the means nor the end to which his remarks apply are the same as those now
232 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
under consideration. It is not proposed to lay out the national capital in founding a colony at the public expense ; but merely to encourage and facilitate the enterprize of those individuals who are willing so to employ their own capital. It is impossible indeed to contemplate attentively the present state of the con- tinent— the extreme jealousy of this country which prevails in most parts of it — the zeal for improving their own manufactures, — together with the superior cheapness of labour, — without anticipating, as at least probable, a great and progressive diminution of that enormous demand which has hitherto existed in Europe for the productions of British enterprize and skill. With such an expectation before us, nothing can be more con- solatory than the prospect of that boundless market for our commodities which seems to be opening in the new world, from which the other nations of Europe, even should they hereafter become our rivals there, can never hope to exclude us. In this point of view, the revolution in Spanish America is likely to prove of incalculable importance to us : but our own colonies are on many accounts calculated to offer greater advantages to our commerce than those of any other country ; our own coun- trymen possess in a peculiar degree, and are likely to transmit to their descendants, both a taste for that description of luxuries which commerce and manufactures furnish, and a persevering industry in acquiring the means of commanding them: not to mention the preference generated by habit, for such articles in particular as are most in use in the mother-country.
There are many, however, who, though friendly to emigra- tion in general, entertain certain objections to our North Ameri- can colonies in particular. One of these, the supposed " barren soil and ungenial climate," we have already noticed; but there is another, which is not unfrequently acknowledged, and prob- ably still more frequently felt, viz. a conviction that Canada must at no distant period fall into the hands of the United States, and that consequently while we are aiding to colonize and improve it, we are in effect labouring for the advantage of a formidable rival.
EMIGRATION TO CANADA, 233
Now, without professing to " look into the womb of time" quite so far as some transatlantic politicians, we cannot forbear suggesting a doubt whether the probability here supposed is al- together well established. We suspect that the confident boasts of some American writers on this subject have produced an un- due effect, not only on their own countrymen, but on ours. Let it not be forgotten how fully and how arrogantly they anticipated the conquest of Canada at the commencement of the late Ameri- can war. The parent State was indeed at that time under cir- cumstances of peculiar difficulty ; exhausted by the length, and embarrassed by the continuance, of a most desperate struggle in Europe. Yet the Canadians, amidst all these disadvantages, amidst the imbecility and despondency of their own commander, made good the defence of their country against all the efforts of the Americans. They appear indeed to come short of no British subjects throughout the world in devoted attachment to our government, and (what to them is a necessary part of that attachment) in a rooted aversion to that of the United States.
But it is urged, that though the Americans were not able to subdue Canada quite so early as they expected, their power is increasing so rapidly that they must ultimately accomplish it. Now to any one who examines the map, it will be plain that the resources of Canada, in improvable territory, are practically in- exhaustible, no less than those of the United States. Why then, we would ask, if a proper use is made of these advantages, should not Canada, we do not say overtake the United States, but at least preserve the same comparative strength which she has at present? If in her infancy she has strangled the smaller ser- pents that assailed her, why may she not, in maturer strength, successfully encounter the Hydra ?
In fact, however, such are the circumstances of aggressive war, that its success or failure does not depend entirely on the relative, but partly also on the absolute, strength of the parties engaged ; and the greater this is, the less is the advantage of the assailant: 10,000 men can make a far better defence against 50,000 invaders, than 10 could against 50; and if the
234 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
wealth and population of Canada and the United States were each increased exactly tenfold, the former would be in much less danger of subjugation than at present. We have not, in this view of the subject, adverted at all to the probability of a sepa- ration of the United States ; which it would perhaps be rash, confidently to foretell, but which those who speculate so freely on future contingencies ought certainly to take into their account. Nor have we taken any notice of the superior ad- vantages possessed by Canada in many points, especially its greater facilities of inland navigation, and the salubrity of its climate.
Nevertheless we are far from maintaining that Canada is certain of being a part of the British empire to the end of time, or even for the next three or four centuries : but what worldly events are certain, or what possessions eternal ? Our empire in India has been long since described as precarious ; but the cer- tainty of its downfall, and the precise limits of its duration, have not yet been made sufficiently clear by any of our political seers, to occasion the removal of that immense capital whose security depends on its continuance. The events which have taken place in Europe, during the last thirty years, have so baffled all cal- culations, that we are hardly authorized to call any political change impossible. It is unreasonable, therefore, to depre- ciate our Canadian possessions on the ground of an uncertain tenure, unless it can be shown that they are exposed to very peculiar and imminent danger : and this we profess our inability to perceive, at least to any thing like the degree in which some seem to apprehend it. There is no doubt, however, that pro- phecies frequently cause their own fulfilment : the patient hardly stands a fair chance for his life, if he is left to the care of a physician who is convinced that he cannot possibly recover; and if our government were unfortunately to act with respect to Canada, under the conviction that it must inevitably in a few years be wrested from us, the event would probably confirm their expectations. If no means of education were provided either in
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 235
England or in Canada, so that those intended for the church1, and all others who were desirous of education, should resort for it (as is too generally the case at present) to the colleges of the United States, from which students return deeply imbued with prejudices against our constitution both in church and state, — if no impediment were offered to the retention of large tracts of land in the hands of those who will not improve them, but wait for their increasing in value by the labours of others, — if no measures were taken for facilitating inland navigation, — if, in short, a general neglect of the interests of the colony prevailed, and abuse and mismanagement were allowed to creep into all de- partments of the government, — then indeed it is probable that the Canadians would not long have either the power or the in- clination to maintain their connection with this country. And yet, since no one will suspect that Great Britain would resign the possession of the colony without a blow, we should still have to look forward to a contest for it with the United States more expensive in blood and treasure than any former one.
Such, indeed, as the Canadians have shown themselves in the late contest, it would be a degradation of the British charac- ter to abandon or to neglect them : but every motive of policy, as well as of honour, concurs in recommending that Canada should, with the utmost diligence, be cherished and fortified. Should a line of conduct be adopted in all respects opposite to
1 A scheme was proposed, not long since, of establishing four or five exhi- bitions of about two hundred pounds each, for the education, at one of the English Universities, of native Canadians designed for the church. Such persons would be in many respects better quali- fied for the ministry in that province
principally driven by the want of means to bear the expense of education in Eng- land. The amount of the proposed ex- hibitions is too trifling to deserve a moment's hesitation, when compared with the sum total of what Canada costs us, and with the greatness of the pro- posed benefit. We are aware that it is
than natives of this country ; (not to | in contemplation to establish a college
mention the difficulty of finding respect- able persons willing to emigrate in that capacity ;) and they would have a better and safer education than they now get in the United States, to which they are
in Canada : and this may be a ground for withholding the exhibitions when the college shall be in full activity ; but a merely contemplated college educates no one.
236 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
that which has been above sketched out as tending to its decay, we see no reason to doubt that the result would be altogether opposite likewise : and where else shall we find so strong a bar- rier to the boundless increase of that power which threatens to prove the most formidable rival that Great Britain has ever en- countered ?
Let any one but carefully inspect the map, and he will see that Canada is, as it were, the bridle of the United States; while at the same time it is the less likely ever to throw off its allegi- ance to this country, from the apprehensions which it recipro- cally entertains of its powerful neighbour. We are far from sanctioning the policy of those who make the fear of remote danger a plea for immediate warfare, or for hostile precautions ; but such measures cannot surely be censured as tend at once both to diminish the probability of a contest, and to strengthen us in the event of its occurrence ; both which effects, as we have endeavoured to show, would result from a timely attention to our Canadian possessions. The requisite measures to be adopted for advancing the prosperity of the colony, and for deriving from it the advantages it offers both to the State and to individuals, are many and various ; some of them fall entirely within the province of government ; others depend principally on indi- viduals : we have already noticed several in the course of this Article, and many more will be suggested by a perusal of the works reviewed. But if we were asked what is the principal thing wanted, we should reply, (as Demosthenes did, concerning action in oratory,) that the first, second, and third requisite is Information. Information as to where Canada is situated, and how it is to be reached : — information as to the capital required, — the articles to be provided, — the spot to be fixed on for set- tling ; — and, in short, as to every step to be taken. With a view, principally, to this object, societies have lately been established in different parts of Canada, which have also raised liberal sub- scriptions for the relief of those multitudes of our countrymen who, from having emigrated without knowledge of the means of procuring subsistence, or from having wasted their little store in
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 237
idle schemes, have been reduced to utter destitution1. A society is also, we understand, just established in London, whose object is to correspond with, and further the views of those in Canada. We heartily wish success to their benevolent exertions; and with a view to this object, beseech them not to attempt too much at the commencement. Let them content themselves in the first instance with communicating information, by handbills and pamphlets, and opening offices at the ports whence the greatest number of embarkations take place, at which the applicants might receive such instructions as would secure them from being grossly imposed upon with respect to their passage, or at least from being left at New Brunswick instead of Quebec. After- wards it might be thought desirable to make some little addition to the store of those who bore a good character, as likely to prove industrious and useful settlers, and who had collected nearly enough of their own to defray their expenses, but needed some small additional aid.
It has been proposed, we understand, to form a company for the purchase of lands in Canada, on a plan which promises greatly to promote its colonization, and which it is supposed might be carried into effect, not only without ultimately diminish- ing the funds employed, but so as to afford a reasonable prospect of considerable profit. Any such scheme, if only so far success- ful as to cover expenses, would have this decided advantage, that its beneficial operation might continue indefinitely ; whereas mere charitable contributions are continually tending to exhaust their source. The proposed plan is said to have for its object the accommodation ot those who are competent to the manage- ment of a Canadian farm, but have not the means of defraying the expense of the voyage and outfit : persons so situated would in general accept with eagerness the offer of having these previous expenses (including the stock, provisions, &c. requisite to enable them to begin farming) advanced to them, on condi-
1 We are assured, on the best authority, that not less tban thirteen thousand emigrants arrived in the course of the last season at Quebec.
238 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
tion of occupying as tenants a portion of uncleared land, from 100 to 200 acres, for a term of years (say 21) at a very low rent, such as would return on the average about one per cent, on the cost of the land and stock advanced ; and of receiving, at the end of that term, provided they then replaced the stock originally advanced, one-third or a half of the land as freehold property. It has been calculated, that from the immense increase in value of land brought into cultivation, the portion remaining to the proprietor, would, together with the stock replaced, be worth two or three times as much as the capital originally advanced. The success of any such scheme as this must evidently depend on the obtaining of proper agents resi- dent on the spot. The task of such an agent indeed would not require either great labour or remarkable ability ; but vigilant attention, and perfect integrity, would be indispensable. We earnestly hope, however, that no schemes of this nature will be permitted to interfere with that which ought to be the primary object — the diffusion of information.
The subjoined estimate of expenses, drawn up by a person of undoubted knowledge and judgment, is well calculated to further this object, and may be interesting to such of our readers as may not have chanced to meet with it :
" 1. Ships sail for Quebec from London, Liverpool, Hull, Glas- gow, and Cork ; the passage (usually about six weeks or two months) costs from £7 to £\2 per head, passengers finding their own pro- visions.
' " 2. Emigrants will do well to take out with them (besides clothes) bedding, handsaws, hammers, chisels and planes. All other tools, furniture, &c. they can procure in the country itself.
" 3. If they mean to settle in the Upper Canada, (which is far preferable, as the climate is much milder, and the language and society are English,) they will proceed from Quebec to Montreal (180 miles) by steam-boat; from Montreal to Kingston (180 miles) partly by open boats and partly by steam-boats : from Kingston there is a steam-boat to the head of Lake Ontario. On their route they will find different Emigrant Societies, which will furnish them with any information they may require respecting obtaining grants of land, &c.
|
r 70 0 |
0 |
|
. 16 10 |
0 |
|
. 5 0 |
0 |
|
. 10 0 |
0 |
|
. 40 0 |
0 |
|
£111 10 |
0 |
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 239
" 4. The following may be given as a rough Estimate of the necessary expenses of emigration, in the case of a married man, with four children : — •
£ s. d. Travelling expenses, (including both the passage by sea and on the river, together with provisions,) say Materials and labour for erecting a log-house Fees paid on receiving a grant of land, (usually 100 acres) ......
For a cow, tools, &c. .....
Subsistence for one year. — N.B. Provisions are cheaper than in England ....
" It would answer for a farmer who has some capital, to take out with him a few steady, industrious men, paying their passage, &c., on condition of their working for him the first year for their board and lodging only, and afterwards for such wages as might be agreed upon.
" 5. The soil of Upper Canada is generally good ; when first cleared it will produce from twenty to twenty-five bushels of wheat to the acre. The climate is healthy ; the winters are, indeed, more severe, and the summers are hotter than in this country ; but no great inconvenience is experienced therefrom. The harvest season is usually extremely dry and fine : the hay crops are got in with very little trouble. Wood fuel is, of course, very abundant."
The communication of such hints as these cannot but be desirable, even if it should produce no other effect than that of deterring from the enterprise those who have not the requisite means, and securing them from the misery which may ensue from the failure of their hopes.
When, however, emigration is recommended as in any case desirable, it is natural to inquire what kind of men should be encouraged to take such a step. This question is indeed sometimes brought forward as an objection, in the form of a most tremendous dilemma : " Would you," says the querist, " send out the idle and profligate, who can do no good at home ? you would then do the colony more harm than good. Or would you send out the best and most in- dustrious men you could find ? this would indeed be a benefit
240 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
to the colony, but a loss to the mother-country, and would be holding out, as a reward for superior merit, a perpetual exile."
This kind of argument well deserves to have been honoured with a distinct name by the ancient schools of dialectics ; for it is applicable, mutatis mutandis, to all subjects, and may be em- ployed to prove any thing whatever. The principle indeed, on the assumption of which it proceeds, viz. that the two extremes of each class comprehend the whole of it, is one which could not conveniently be acted on ; if it had been, in the case of Bias's argument for instance, (which is a fine antique specimen of it,) the human race would probably have long since been extinct ; for he contended that marriage altogether was to be avoided, because an eminently beautiful wife might be a source of jealousy, and a hideously ugly one, of disgust ; but still the argument is found serviceable for the purposes of an argument ; i.e. to perplex an opponent. We shall endeavour to pass between the horns of this dilemma, by replying, that it is neither by the very best, nor the worst, of our countrymen, that we would see our colonies stocked ; and as nine-tenths belong neither to the one description nor the other, this exception produces no great difficulty. The former class, indeed, are not likely to be induced to emigrate, as they generally thrive very well at home ; and the latter are not likely to thrive anywhere.
But in an improved and fully peopled country, and especially in times like the present, there cannot fail to be great numbers of persons not deficient in industry and good conduct, who, from the unfavourable state of the markets, from excessive competi- tion in every profession and branch of labour, or from casual misfortunes, find themselves either at a loss to obtain a com- fortable independent maintenance for themselves or their fami- lies, or excluded from the prospect of some respectable situation in life, or perhaps of some matrimonial union, on which their hopes had been fixed. To persons so situated, emigration seems to be precisely the appropriate resource. It need not be appre- hended that all the facilities and encouragement, or even all the persuasion and assistance, that can be bestowed, will ever induce
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those to emigrate who are so circumstanced, and so disposed, as to be contented with their lot at home ; and if they are not, their departure is not to be regretted. But it does not follow that all such are of so restless and dissatisfied a temper, that they will never be steady and contented anywhere. For instance, sup- pose a strong attachment to exist between a young couple, who are, perhaps, secure from indigence in a single state, but have no prospect of decently bringing up and providing for a family ; if they are uneasy at being compelled to renounce an object, the desire of which is so natural, and, in itself, so blameless, are they therefore to be reckoned among those restless characters, who are impatient of every hardship and privation, and unfit for any settled and regular course of life ? If, indeed, the violence of a romantic passion prompts them to set at defiance the dic- tates of prudence, and to marry without a reasonable prospect of supporting their offspring, they are much to be blamed ; though even in that case they are generally prepared and willing to undergo much toil and privation, though they may have over- rated the prospects of success. Now there is no reason why persons so situated may not prove industrious and prosperous settlers. They will have difficulties and hardships to encounter, — for these we have supposed them prepared ; but these difficul- ties and hardships are all at the beginning of their course. Instead of having to look forward to a continual increase of them, as their family increases, — to regret the past, and dread the future, more and more, each succeeding season, they will find their prospects growing continually brighter, and their resources more abundant. Year after year the forest recedes before the persevering cultivator : fresh fields are clothed with corn or herbage ; his cattle multiply ; his increasing produce enables him to proceed with still greater rapidity in extending his improvements ; the log-hut is enlarged into a convenient dwelling, and fitted up with those articles of comfort and luxury which perhaps he had at first been compelled to forego ; and his children inherit, in the place of an unproductive thicket, a fertile and well stocked farm.
w. E. R
242 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
It is not too much to say that the degree of industry, frugality, and temperance, which are absolutely essential to enable a person in the middling or lower orders, in this country, to maintain his station in society, and preserve himself from want, are in Canada, sufficient to raise him to comparative wealth. We know from most respectable authority, that one of the wealthiest individuals of a considerable town of Upper Canada, arrived in that country as an emigrant, with no other property than the axe with which he was to labour. And though several fortunate circumstances must have concurred to produce such an extraordinary degree of success, there is no presumption in calculating, in the case of every settler, on an independent competence, as the natural result of steadiness and good conduct.
It is not, however, generally speaking, desirable, that men should be encouraged to go out as mere labourers, without having either more money than just enough to pay their passage, or any preconcerted arrangement for obtaining employment when they arrive ; and especially is such a step to be deprecated in the case of those who have families. Much severe distress has been the consequence of such imprudence ; for though there are perhaps many settlers who would be glad to hire them, yet from their remote and scattered situations, and the difficulties of communication, much time may elapse before their mutual wants are made known to the parties, so that the demand and supply may be brought to balance each other ; and in the mean time the emigrant is perhaps starving in a strange country. It was for the relief of this distress, the amount of which has been very great, that the societies to which we have already alluded were first established in Canada.
The best plan perhaps would be that which is hinted at in the printed statement ; viz. that those who are emigrating as farmers should, either at their own expense or otherwise, take out with them such labourers as they might personally know, or have good assurance of, as honest, steady, and skilful ; mak- ing some bargain with them beforehand, as to the time and
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 243
terms of the engagement. Arrangements might also be made through the medium of such societies as those already established in Canada and in London, for supplying with labourers the settlers already established there, many of whom probably would be glad to receive men bringing from this country testi- monials as to character.
One description of workmen, who would be especially well- suited to the colony, is not, perhaps, so frequent in this country now, as formerly, viz. a Jack-of- all-trades. In some remote dis- tricts, such artisans are still prized ; but, in proportion to the increase of population, and the consequent subdivision of labour, they fall into disrepute. As Plato remarks of a certain class of philosophers, (who, notwithstanding the lofty appellation bestowed on them, were neither more nor less than artists of this description,) no one chuses to employ the one man who can do many things tolerably, when he can have access to several who can do each of them excellently : and hence, though in general men of superior ingenuity, their poverty is become pro- verbial. They have accordingly the more reason to try their fortune in a young settlement, which is exactly their proper field. A scattered population, bad roads, remoteness from towns, and a novel situation, leave in a most helpless condition the man who has concentrated all his powers in learning to perform some one operation very skilfully, and who has no resources.
It would appear indeed that from this cause a nation like our own, in which the subdivision of labour has been brought to the utmost perfection, is less fitted for furnishing colonists than one which has made far less progress in the arts. To illustrate this by a single instance — no one can doubt that the querns, or hand-mills, which were in use not long since in the Highlands, as well as among the ancients, occasioned much waste of labour, and that a great accession of wealth has been gained by the powerful machinery which is now employed : but if we look to the case of a new settlement, the picture is reversed ; we find, in the Illinois district, the farmer obliged sometimes to carry
r 3
244 EMIGRATION TO CANADA.
his corn fifty miles, through bad roads, to the nearest mill, and to wait when he comes there, perhaps a week, before his turn comes to have it ground; yet he submits to this evil as utterly irremediable. What a prodigious saving of labour would a colony of highlanders with their querns have in this case obtained ! We really think that the manufacture of hand- mills, or of small horse-mills for this purpose, would be well worth the consideration of those who are interested in the pros- perity of the Canadian settlers.
Perhaps too the society we have been speaking of may hereafter be led to adopt the plan of establishing a kind of mechanical school in this country, for communicating a slight degree of instruction in several of the most necessary arts. It would take but a very short time to make a man a tolerable carpenter, smith, &c, and the acquisition would be, in a new settlement, invaluable. We have no doubt, however, that the combined activity of intelligent individuals on both sides of the Atlantic, guided by local knowledge, and stimulated by benevo- lent zeal, will in time, if their numbers and funds should be- come considerable, devise and bring into practice every expe- dient, as far as the power of individuals extends, by which the prosperity of the colony may be promoted. And if the fostering hand of government is extended, to afford free scope for their exertions, — to co-operate with them, where its aid is indispens- able,— and to rectify from time to time the various abuses which must be expected to creep in, — we see every reason to anticipate both a valuable resource to the redundant population of this country, and a great accession of strength to our trans- atlantic dominions, by the diversion thither of the better part of that tide of emigrants which is now poured into the terri- tories of the United States. We say, the better part, because there are doubtless many emigrants of a character which would not promise much benefit to the colony ; and one of the chief advantages perhaps which would result from the labours of a well-constituted society for promoting emigration, would be the careful selection of proper persons on whom to bestow their
EMIGRATION TO CANADA. 245
encouragement and assistance. Those in whom a rooted aver- sion to our constitution in church and state is one of the prin- cipal inducements for emigrating to republican America, it would neither be easy nor desirable to divert from their purpose. That is the best place for them. If they are disappointed in finding that a democratical government and the absence of a church-establishment do not imply freedom from taxes, and the universal diffusion of virtue and happiness ; though their hopes are not gratified, their complaints, at least, will be silenced, or at any rate will cease to disturb our government. There may nevertheless be many, who, though not radically corrupt in their notions, nor altogether hostile to our government and religion, may have been goaded by the pressure of distress, combined with the inflammatory declamations of designing men, to feel a great degree of impatience of the burden of taxes, tithes, and poor-rates ; and such men may become, by the removal of the cause of their irritation, loyal and peaceable subjects in that part of the empire which is entirely exempt from those burdens. At least their angry feelings will have time and opportunity to subside, in a country where there are no tumultuous meetings in populous towns of unemployed manufacturers ; but where all their neighbours, as well as themselves, have something better to do (as Mr. Gourlay found by experience) than to set about new modelling the constitution ; — where the chief reform called for is to convert forests into corn-fields, in which no one will hinder them from laying the axe to the root of the evil ; — and in wdnch the desire of novelty may be fully gratified, without destroying established institutions ; — where, in short, the whole structure of society is to be built up, without being previously pulled down.
II.
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1. Report from the Select Committee on Criminal Commitments
and Convictions. 1828.
2. New South Wales. Return to an Address of the Honourable the Mouse of Commons, dated 1 May, 1828, for a Copy of a Report by the late Major General Macquarie, &c. and an Extract of a Letter from Major General Macquarie to Earl Bathurst in October 1823, in answer to a certain part of the Report of Mr. Commissioner Bigge on the State of the said Colony, &c.
3. Two Tears in New South Wales ; comprising Sketches of the actual state of Society in that Colony ; of its peculiar advan- tages to Emigrants; of its Topography, Natural History, dkc. &c. By P. Cunningham, Surgeon, R.N. 2 vols. Second edition, revised and enlarged. 1827.
We remember to have heard an anecdote of a gentleman who in riding through the deep and shady Devonshire lanes, became entangled in the intricacies of their numberless wind- ings ; and not being able to obtain a sufficiently wide view of the country to know whereabouts he was, trotted briskly on, in the confident hope that he should at length come to some house whose inhabitants would direct him, or to some more open spot from which he could take a survey of the different roads, and observe whither they led. After proceeding a long time in this manner, he was surprised to find a perfect uni- formity in the country through which he passed, and to meet with no human Being, or come in sight of any habitation. He was however encouraged by observing, as he advanced, the 'prints of horses' feet, which indicated that he was in no unfrequented track : these became continually more and more numerous the further he went, so as to afford him a still
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increasing assurance of his being in the immediate neighbour- hood of some great road or populous village ; and he accord- ingly paid the less anxious attention to the bearings of the country, from being confident that he was in the right way. But still he saw neither house nor human creature ; and, at length, the recurrence of the same objects by the roadside opened his eyes to the fact, that all this time, misled by the multitude of the turnings, he had been riding in a circle; and that the footmarks, the sight of which had so cheered him, were those of his own horse ; their number, of course, increasing with every circuit he took. Had he not fortunately made this discovery, perhaps he might have been riding there now.
The truth of the tale (and we can assure our readers that we at least did not invent it) does not make it the less useful by way of apologue : and the moral we would deduce from it is, that in many parts of the conduct of life, and not least in government and legislation, men are liable to follow the track of their own footsteps, — to set themselves an example, — and to flatter themselves that they are going right, from their con- formity to their own precedent.
It is commonly and truly said, when any new and untried measure is proposed, that we cannot fully estimate the incon- veniences it may lead to in practice; but we are convinced this is even still more the case with any system which has long been in operation. The evils to which it may contribute, and the obstacles it may present to the attainment of any good, are partly overlooked or lightly regarded, on account of their fami- liarity, partly attributed to such other causes as perhaps really do co-operate in producing the same effects ; and ranked along with the unavoidable alloys of human happiness, the inconve- niences from which no human policy can entirely exempt us. In some remote and unimproved districts, if you complain of the streets of a town being dirty and dark, as those of London were for many ages, the inhabitants tell you that the nights are cloudy and the weather rainy : as for their streets, they are just such as they have Iqng been ; and the expedient of paving
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and lighting has occurred to nobody. The ancient Romans had probably no idea that a civilized community could exist without slaves. That the same work can be done much better and cheaper by freemen, and that their odious system con- tained the seeds of the destruction of their empire, were truths which, familiarized as they were to the then existing state of society, they were not likely to suspect. " If you allow of no plundering," said an astonished Mahratta chief to some English officers, " how is it possible for you to maintain such fine armies as you bring into the field?" He and his ancestors time out of mind had doubtless been following their own footsteps in the established routine ; and had accordingly never dreamed that pillage is inexpedient as a source of revenue, or even one that can possibly be dispensed with. Recent experiment, indeed, may bring to light and often exaggerate the defects of a new system ; but long familiarity blinds us to those very defects.
What we would infer from these general remarks, is the importance of reviewing, from time to time, those parts of our legislative system which are supposed to have the sanction of experience, but to whose real consequences our eyes are likely to have been blinded by custom. Custom may bring men to consider many evils unavoidable, merely because they have never hitherto been avoided ; and to reason like those Arabs of whom the story is related, who concluded that a country must be miserable which had no date- trees, merely because dates had always been, to them, the staff of life. Nothing, in- deed, should be hastily altered on the ground merely that it is not, in practice, perfect ; since this is not to be expected of any system. And we should remember also that custom will often blind men to the good, as well as to the evil effects, of any long established system. The agues engendered by a marsh, (like that ancient one which bore the name and sur- rounded the city of Camarina,) and which have so long been common as to be little regarded, may not be its only effects ; it may be also a defence against an enemy. The CamarinEeans
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having drained the swanipi, their city became healthy, but was soon after besieged and taken. The preventive effects, indeed, whether good or evil, of any long established system, are hardly ever duly appreciated. But though no law or system, whether actually existing or proposed, can be expected to be unex- ceptionable, or should have its defects pointed out without any notice of corresponding advantages, it is most important to examine every measure, whether new or old, and to try it on its intrinsic merits ; always guarding against the tendency to acquiesce without inquiry into the necessity of any existing practice. In short, we should, on the one hand, not venture rashly on untrodden paths without a careful survey of the country ; and, on the other hand, be ever on our guard against following in confident security the track of our own footsteps.
We have no intention of entering, at present, on so wide a field as the examination of the subject of crimes and punish- ments generally : but we wish to call the attention of our readers to the consideration of one particular class of them with reference to the existing state of the law among ourselves. The subject is not an agreeable one ; but as long as crimes exist, and punishments are, in consequence, necessary to check them, there can hardly be one of much greater importance. The theory of punishment is usually regarded as too elementary to require or admit of a detailed discussion : but it often happens that principles are, in practice, overlooked, from the very circumstance of their being so obvious as to be never dis- puted, and, consequently, seldom adverted to. And it will be found accordingly in this, oftener perhaps than in any other subject, that the same truths which, when stated generally, are regarded as truisms not worth insisting on, will, in their prac- tical application, be dreaded as the most startling paradoxes. We are convinced, therefore, that those who are best acquainted with the subject, will be the least disposed to complain of our
1 In opposition to the oracle
Mi) k'ivu Kanapivav, aKtv7jro£ yap afisivuv.
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laying down distinctly in the outset, the principles from which our deductions are made.
We may be allowed then to premise the remark, that there are three, and only three objects, with a view to which punish- ments can be inflicted or threatened : 1st. Retribution, or ven- geance;— a desire to allot a proportionate suffering to each degree of moral guilt, independent of any ulterior consideration, and solely with a view to the past ill-desert of the offender : 2dly. What may be called correction ; — the prevention of a repetition of offence by the same individual; whether by his reformation or removal: 3dly. The prevention of the offence, generally, by the terror of a punishment denounced; whether that object be attained by the example of a culprit suffering the penalty, or, simply, by the mere threat and apprehension of it. To these appropriate objects may be added another, in- cidental advantage, not belonging to punishments, as such, but common to them with other legislative enactments ; — the public benefit, in an economical point of view, which may be, con- ceivably, derived directly from a punishment ; as when crimi- nals are usefully employed on any public work, so as to make in that way some compensation to society for the injury done to it. Such a compensation, however, we should remember, must necessarily be so very inadequate, that this object should always be made completely subordinate to the main end or ends proposed in the denunciation of punishment.
And what is to be regarded as the great object ? All pro- bably would admit, in the abstract, whatever they may do in practice, that it is the preventi on of crime. As for the first of the purposes just enumerated, the infliction of just vengeance on the guilty, it is clearly out of Mail's province. Setting aside the consideration that the circumstances on which moral guilt depends, the inward motives of the offender, his temptations, and the opportunities he may have had of learning his duty, can never be perfectly known but to the Searcher of hearts, — setting aside this, it does not appear that Man, even if the de- grees of moral turpitude could be ascertained by him, would
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have a right to inflict on his fellow-man any punishment what- ever, whether heavy or light, of which the ultimate object should be, the suffering of the offender. Such a procedure, in individuals, is distinctly forbidden by the Founder of our religion, as a sinful revenge: and it does not appear how in- dividuals combined into a community can impart to that com- munity any right which none of them individually possessed ; — can bestow, in short, on themselves what is not theirs to bestow. Our Saviour and his apostles did not mean to deprive even an individual of the right of defending (when there is no other defence to be had) his own person and property ; and this right he is competent to transfer, and is considered as having transferred, to the community ; but they meant to forbid the " rendering of evil for evil," for its own sake. And as no one man is authorized to do this, or can authorize others to ex- ercise such a right, even over himself, so neither can ten men or ten millions possess any such right to inflict vengeance : for " vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."
Of the other two, which are legitimate objects of punish- ment, the prevention of a repetition of the offence by the same individual, whether by his reform or removal, is clearly of incalculably less importance (desirable as it is in itself) than the other, the prevention of crime generally, by the terror of example or of threat. If we could, however, completely attain the other objects, by some expedient which would yet fail , of, or very inadequately accomplish, this last, such a system must be at once pronounced inefficacious. Could we be sure of accomplishing the reformation of every convicted criminal, at the same time making his services available to the Public, yet if the method employed should be such as to deter no one from committing the offence, society could not exist under such a system. On the other hand, if the punishment denounced had no other tendency whatever but to deter, and could be completely effectual in that, it is plain that it would entirely supersede all other expedients, since it would never even be in- flicted. This truth, though self-evident, is frequently over-
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looked in practice, from the necessary imperfection of all our expedients. Hardly any denunciation of punishment ever was thus completely effectual ; and thence men are often led to look to the actual infliction as the object contemplated. Whereas it is evident that every instance of the infliction of a punishment, is an instance, as far as it goes, of the failure of the legislator's design. No axiom in Euclid can be more evident than that the object of the legislator in enacting that murderers shall be hanged, and pilferers imprisoned or transported, is, not to load the gallows, fill the jail, and people New Holland, but to pre- vent the commission of murder and theft ; and that conse- quently every man who is hanged, or transported, or confined, is an instance " pro tanto," of the inefficacy {i.e. want of com- plete efficacy) of the law. The imprisonment may reform the offender; death removes him from the possibility of again troubling society ; and the example may in either case operate to deter others in future ; but the very necessity of inflicting the punishment, proves that the dread of that punishment has, so far at least, failed of producing the desired effect. This absolute perfection indeed — the entire prevention of crime — is a point unattainable ; but it is a point to which we may approach indefinitely ; — it is the point towards which our measures must be always tending, and we must estimate their wisdom by the degrees of their approach to it.
We have dwelt, at the risk of being thought tedious, on these first principles, because many of the maxims inevitably resulting from them are so perpetually violated in practice, that some persons would even be startled at the inculcation of them :
because, in short, the present case is one where the premises
pass for truisms, and the conclusions, frequently, for extravagant paradoxes. Even those who are too intelligent and too well taught not to be fully aware of the true end of human punish- ments, are perpetually liable to be led into a forgetfulness of it by the circumstance that the same action may be at once a sin and a crime — an act of moral turpitude, and also one calling for legal punishment on grounds of political expediency ; — yet may
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be of incalculably different magnitude according as it is viewed in this light or in that ; and may be even aggravated in the one point of view, by the very circumstances which extenuate it in the other. So that if we lose sight for a moment of the pre- cise object with which we are considering any offence, we are liable to draw a conclusion not only wide of the truth, but exactly opposite to it. E.g. it is plain that the strength of the temptations to any offence is an extenuation of the moral guilt of the offender ; and it is no less plain, and is a rule on which legislators act — as in the case of stealing sheep and other neces- sarily exposed property — that this very circumstance calls for the heavier punishment to counterbalance it, in order to prevent the offence. Yet we have known an intelligent writer, doubtless well aware of this principle, but losing sight of it through the inadvertency just alluded to, contend for the justice of a more severe punishment in the case of offenders whose temptations are less, in consideration of the increased moral guilt of the offence. After remarking that confinement to hard labour, &c. is a far severer infliction on persons of the higher ranks, he adds, that rank and education ought not to lighten punishment, because if they make the feelings more susceptible to an equal infliction, it must be remembered also that the moral restraint and social obligation were the stronger, and that the violation of them merits a severer suffering. And so it does, in a moral point of view ; which is evidently that which the author was inadvertently taking ; forgetting, for the moment, the proper end of legislative enactments. Into the very same error no less a writer than Adam Smith has been betrayed, in condemning the punishments denounced against smuggling for being more severe in proportion to the strength of the temptation ; which, he says, is contrary to the principles of just legislation. ( Wealth of Nations, p. v. c. 2.)
But to proceed to our inquiry ; there is no question perhaps more perplexing to the legislator than the treatment of that class of offenders whose crimes fall short of capital, and yet are such as cannot be adequately repressed by pecuniary mulct, or
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such corporal chastisements as are now in use among us. The majority of offences of this description are at present visited by sentence of transportation. We say " sentence of transporta- tion," because in a large proportion of cases, including a great majority of those in which the sentence is for seven years only, actual transportation is not the punishment inflicted ; but con- finement with hard labour, either on board the hulks or in the penitentiary, is substituted, either for the whole term, or for some part of it.
" Die, .... quo discrimine, ripas Hae linquunt, illse remis vada livida verrunt."
There may be reasons to justify such a system of uncertainty ; but they ought to be very strong ones ; for it seems on the face of it open to many objections. It is universally admitted that the certainty of punishment, i. e. of receiving some punishment, is far more effectual in deterring from crime than severity ; because the same kind of disposition which leads men to ven- ture in a lottery, viz., the tendency to calculate on their own good luck, makes them more willing to run some small risk of a very heavy penalty, than to encounter a certainty, or nearly a certainty, of the lightest. In fact, if every man could be quite sure of being speedily visited, though with a moderate punish- ment for every transgression, hardly any would ever incur it. And this is the point to which, though not perfectly attainable, we should always endeavour to approach as nearly as possible. Now it seems to be consonant to this principle, that we should remove, as far as can be done, every kind of uncertainty in reference to punishments. And though it is out of man's power to insure the detection and conviction of every offender, it evi- dently is possible to let every one know beforehand the pre- cise meed of punishment which will await him in case of his being convicted. This, we say, is possible to be done to the fullest extent; but should fchut be, for any reason, judged incon- venient, at least there should be as little uncertainty as possible. For otherwise, may it not be inferred from the natural character
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of man, that each malefactor, in addition to the chances of escaping conviction, will, and does console himself with the hope of undergoing that species of punishment which, to him, is the lightest? Like a party of gamblers at rouge et noir, all buoyed up with hope, some in the confidence that success will attend the red, others the black, convicts who have taken tickets in our penal lottery, flatter themselves with opposite hopes ; he who dreads nothing so much as a penitentiary, that he shall only be transported ; and he who is most afraid (if there be any such) of expatriation, that he shall not be transported, but left in the penitentiary or the hulks.
We are aware that no penalty can be devised which shall be of precisely equal severity to every one who undergoes it : a punishment which is the most dreaded by one man, on account of his peculiar feelings and habits, is to another, of opposite habits, comparatively light. Nor, again, can any system be framed which will allot, with perfect regularity, to each class of characters, the punishment most dreaded by each. But one of the inconveniences, and perhaps one of the greatest, of the system of complete uncertainty to which we have been object- ing, is that it precludes the legislature from profiting by ex- perience ; indeed, from acquiring any, concerning the respective efficacy of different kinds of punishment. For it should be remembered that, with a view to the main object, prevention, it is, in all cases, the expectation, not the infliction of the punish- ment, that does good ; the only benefit that can arise from the example of the infliction being, the excitement in others of this expectation ; — the wholesome terror of suffering the like. Now this benefit can only exist as far as men are led to anticipate for themselves, in case of a similar offence, a similar suffering. The infliction of a whipping is no example to thieves on the mere ground that the person so chastised is a thief and is whipped for it, but on the ground that other thieves may expect hereafter to be whipped. Yet this maxim, truism as it is, is practically violated in every instance in which it is left to chance to decide which, out of several different punishments, a certain convict
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shall receive. There are then no means of judging which of these are more, and which less, efficacious in deterring offenders. A certain kind of punishment, we will suppose, may be inflicted on a considerable number of convicts, without any diminution of that class of offences ; and yet, for aught we know, this very punishment may be an object of dread to those very men, and might have deterred most of them, if they had been assured what punishment awaited them. The labourer at the hulks, if we could clive into his thoughts, might perhaps be found to have offended, not in defiance of the hulks, but of transportation : and he who groans under solitary confinement, might prove to be one who thought little of imprisonment among good company on board the hulks. As long as this uncertainty remains, all our judgments respecting the comparative efficacy of punish- ments must remain involved in equal uncertainty. No legislator can decide *what penalty malefactors most dread, unless he knows what they expect. On the other hand, any penalty which should be invariably inflicted on a certain class of offenders, even should it prove wholly ineffectual, wrould at least have served the purpose of an experiment ; we should have ascertained its inefficacy, and might proceed to change it for another. But on the opposite plan, our practice neither springs from ex- perience, nor tends to produce experience ; we cannot refer effects to their causes ; but are left to proceed by guess and at random from beginning to end.
Now if it be the fact, and we shall presently proceed to show that it is at least highly probable, that actual transportation is, to most offenders, either a very slight punishment, or a reward, it will be evident from what has been just said that this circum- stance will not only nullify the effect of transportation itself as a preventive of crime, but will also impair the efficacy of such other penalties as are liable to be commuted for it. It is opening a door to hope. And in legal enactments the same rule holds good as in mechanics : nothing is stronger than its weakest part. If a poor man is convinced (we wish the supposition were impossible and inconceivable) that a trip to Botany Bay would
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be the best thing that could befall him, he may be even tempted by such a belief, to steal a sheep in the hope of a free passage, and to run the risk of being sent to the hulks instead, trust- ing that he shall have better luck than that : especially if there be some aggravation in his offence, which will procure him a sentence of fourteen instead of seven years ; in which case actual transportation is much the more likely to be the conse- quence.
But can there be any, some of our readers will perhaps say, to whom transportation really is no punishment ? Doubtless to a person in a tolerably comfortable situation in his own country, and whose habits are quiet and regular, a four months' voyage, and a settlement, either permanent or temporary, at the antipodes, is likely to be felt as a grievous exile ; to say nothing of the abridgement of liberty, and compulsory labour. But the higher classes, or indeed those in any class, will fall into great errors, if they judge too hastily of the feelings of others by their own, and conclude that every thing must be felt by all as a punish- ment, which would be such to themselves. If a fine lady or gentleman were promised a sight of a criminal sentenced to hard labour, and were to be shown a man occupied all day in raking mud out of a ditch, and dining on hard dumpling with dripping poured over it, (the Suffolk dainty,) they might per- haps think his punishment too severe, and might be surprised to be told that he was after all no criminal, but an honest labourer, who was very well satisfied to get such good employ- ment ; and that, though probably he would be glad of better diet, more beer, and less work, he would find himself as uncom- fortable if confined to the mode of life and occupations of those who pitied him, as they would be in the scene of his highest enjoyment, the chimney-corner of a dirty alehouse. In fact, the great mass of mankind are sentenced to hard labour, by the decree of Providence. And though a tolerably steady character, in tolerable circumstances, will usually prefer undergoing this lot in " his own, his native land," to the chance of even better- ing his condition in another, it is well known that all men are w. e. s
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not steady characters, nor all in even tolerable circumstances : multitudes are every way exposed to the trials of " malesuada fames, ac turpis egestas."
The man who is able and willing to work hard, yet is unable with his utmost exertions to provide bare necessaries for his wife and family without resorting to parish relief, — the man who, with- out being incorrigibly idle, has a distaste for steady hard work, rewarded with a bare subsistence, and a taste for the luxuries of the lower orders, yet cannot acquire them by honest means, — the man who by his irregularities has so far hurt his character that he cannot obtain employment except when hands are scarce, — these, and many other very common descriptions of persons, are so situated that transportation can hardly be expected to be viewed by them as any punishment. As a punishment, we mean, when viewed in comparison with the alternative of living by honest industry : for it would be absurd to say that, to lazy vagabonds, the necessity of labour is itself a punishment : they dislike it in- deed, but they cannot avoid it by abstaining from crime. Labour they must at any rate, or else steal or starve ; and that only can operate as a preventive punishment which it is in one's power to avoid by good conduct. It would be ridiculous to exhort a poor man not to subsist by stealing but by hard labour, lest he should be condemned to hard labour ! If every thing that a man dislikes is to be regarded as therefore a punishment to him, we might hope to deter people from stealing by the threat of merely com- pelling them to restore what they steal ; for they all probably would agree with Falstaif in " hating restitution, as double trouble." Yet a man would be reckoned an idiot, who should say, " Brave the cold contentedly in your own clothes, and do not steal my cloak ; for if you do, I will — if I can catch you — make you pull it off again."
We should apologize for noticing a truth so obvious were we not convinced that it is often overlooked, in consequence of the difference, in effect, of the same sentence, on different persons. To one brought up in refinement, a sentence to wield the spade or axe, and live on plentiful though coarse food for seven years,
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would be felt as a very heavy punishment for flagrant miscon- duct, and might induce him to abstain from such misconduct > to the majority of mankind, it is the very bonus held out for good conduct.
To the great bulk of those, therefore, who are sentenced to transportation, the punishment amounts to this, that they are carried to a country whose climate is delightful, producing in profusion all the necessaries and most of the luxuries of life ; — that they have a certainty of maintenance, instead of an uncer- tainty; are better fed, clothed, and lodged, than (by honest means)- they ever were before; have an opportunity of regaling themselves at a cheap rate with all the luxuries they are most addicted to ; — and if their conduct is not intolerably bad, are permitted, even before the expiration of their term, to become settlers on a fertile farm, which with very moderate industry they may transmit as a sure and plentiful provision to their children. Whatever other advantages this system may possess, it certainly does not look like a very terrific punishment. iEsop, we are told, remon- strated with a man who, when bitten by a dog, attempted the superstitious cure for the wound by giving the beast bread dipped in the blood : if the dogs, said he, find this out, they will all fall upon us in hopes of these sops. We fear the shrewd old fabulist would entertain similar apprehensions from what is called our humane system of laws.
Perhaps therefore, all things considered, it is as well that the execution of such a sentence should take place in the other hemisphere, that the lower orders in England may have the less opportunity of comparing their own condition with that of the convicts : if the punishment really were a punishment likely to strike terror, there would be a very serious objection to its being removed so far from the knowledge or notice of those whom it is designed to deter. But let any man of common sense judge how far those under a temptation to any crime are likely to be deterred, by a knowledge of such facts as Mr. Cunningham among others lays before us : —
s3
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" I question much, however, whether many English labourers live better than our convict servant here, whose weekly ration con- sists of a sufficiency of flour to make four quartern loaves at least ; of seven pounds of beef; two ounces of tea, one pound of sugar, and two ounces of tobacco, with the occasional substitution of two or three quarts of milk daily for the tea and sugar allowance. Numbers of the English working poor would doubtless be happy to bargain for such a diet ; and thus their situation might in these points be bettered, by their being placed upon an equality with convicts .'"
The natives of the sister-island, it seems, have their eyes more speedily opened to the advantages of their lot than our- selves : —
" The Irish convicts are more happy and contented with their situation on board than the English, although more loth to leave their country, even improved as the situation of the great body of them is by being thus removed, — numbers telling me they had never been half so well off in their lives before. It was most amusing to read the letters they sent to their friends on being fairly settled on board, (all such going through the surgeon's hands,) none ever failing to give a most circumstantial account of what the breakfast, dinner, and supper, consisted of; a minute list of the clothes sup- plied, and generally laying particular e.mphasis on the important fact of having a blanket and bed to ' my own self entirely J which seemed to be somewhat of a novelty by their many circumlocutions about it. One observed, in speaking of the ship, that ' Mr. Reedy's parlour was never half so clane,' while the burden of another was, ' Many a Mac in your town, if he only knew what the situation of a convict was, would not be long in following my example ! thank God for the same ! I never was better off in my life !' "
This dangerous knowledge however does, not unfrequently, reach this country also ; and may be expected to be more and more generally diffused, and to lead to its natural results. Sundry instances have come under our own observation, (and many of our readers probably could multiply them to a great extent, if each would note down such as he hears of on good authority,) of convicts writing home to their friends in England in the same style of self-congratulation, and exhorting such of them as are in a distressed situation to use their best endeavours to obtain a passage to a land where such cheering prospects
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await them. Two instances we know, of a master, and a mis- tress, who had each been robbed by a servant subsequently transported, receiving a friendly greeting, in one of the in- stances personally, in the other, by a letter, accompanied by a present, with acknowledgments of former kindness, from these very servants, who had realized large property, one of them in New Holland, the other in Van Diemen's Land. The latter seriously urged her mistress to come out and join her, pro- mising herself to patronize and assist her, and holding out the certainty of making a fortune ! It is most consolatory, no doubt, to reflect how thrifty and well conducted these in- dividuals must, in all likelihood, have become, and to observe their dutiful gratitude. But gold may be bought too dear. Is it worth while to hold out a temptation which will be the means of spoiling one thousand servants, for the sake of trying how effectually we can reform half a dozen of them : —
" Only to show with how small pain, A wound like this is healed again ? "
Shall we, in short, to cure one bite, throw a sop to the dog, which will bring a whole pack upon us ?
It may perhaps be said, that such instances of rapid accu- mulation of wealth must be very rare ; and that many of the accounts transmitted are probably much overcharged. We should answer, so much the worse. The mischief is done, not by the attainment of these advantages in New South Wales, but by the expectation of them excited at home : a very few prizes of twenty or thirty thousand pounds will induce multitudes to take tickets ; false descriptions may excite real hopes ; and if the credulous are allured by these hopes, it is no comfort to think that they are ultimately disappointed ; on the contrary, it is an aggravation of the evil, since our object is, not the in- fliction of suffering, but the excitement of a salutary dread of it, at the least expense of actual pain that is compatible with that object. If it were possible that we could carry offenders to an Elysium, and at the same time succeed in keeping up the belief
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that they were carried to a Tartarus, this would be of all things the most desirable ; but if they expect, whether truly or not, a passage to Elysium, our object is completely defeated : as long as such hopes, however visionary, are kept up, we must expect to find the distressed or discontented part of the commu- nity resembling (according to the felicitous allusion to the jEneid by one of our contemporaries) the disconsolate ghosts on the banks of Styx : —
" Stabant orantes primi transmittere cursum Tendebantque manus, ripae ulterior is amore."
We find Mr. Cunningham, whose testimony is the more im- portant, on account of his being a decided advocate for the system of colonizing with convicts, distinctly admitting that hitherto, i.e. for about forty years during which this system has been in operation, it has totally failed of the main object, the deterring of offenders by the fear of punishment ; but he con- soles himself with the hope that hereafter a better method will be pursued, and so that transportation may begin to be really penal.
" A penal colony, however, to prove fully beneficial to the mother-country, must be regulated so as efficiently to punish the crime committed, before the reform of the criminal is thought of; and in this particular has hitherto consisted the great defect of our New South Wales system ; for transportation here could scarcely be called a punishment, and indeed, in half of the cases at least, proved a reward. The judicious measures, however, commenced by our present governor, promise a speedy reform in these matters, and will, I hope, convert the colony from a paradise, into a purgatory, for criminals."
We do not dispute that improvements may be introduced into the system ; but the only effectual one, we are convinced, will be to abandon it altogether. Means doubtless may be used to make transportation no longer altogether a reward ; but it does not follow that even then it will operate as a punishment ; and we must be ever on our guard against concluding at once (according to the fallacy above noticed) that it does so, on the
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ground of criminals beginning to dread and dislike it; they must dread and dislike it more, much more, than a life of honest industry, before it can operate as a check to those whose only alternative is such a life, or one of dishonesty, and who are disposed to prefer the latter. We have said that this penal labour ought to be much more dreaded than honest industry, for two reasons ; first, on account of the uncertainty of the criminal's detection : he who had rather steal than submit to ordinary hard work, will take his chance of being sent to Botany Bay, unless his punishment there is apprehended to be something far beyond ordinary hard work : secondly, on account of the hope held out, (and which is a principal design of the system to hold out,) that at the expiration of his term, if not sooner, he shall be located on a farm, and placed in a situation exceeding the brightest dreams of an English cottager. This hope will need much to counterbalance it, if transportation is to become a dreaded punishment. Mr. C. trusts it will become a purgatory ; but he must remember it is one which, like the Popish purgatory, leads to a paradise.
Supposing this point however to be fully attained, and to suppose it, is what Johnson would call tl the triumph of hope over experience," still it would be a long time after the comple- tion of this change, before the character of it would be so fully understood in England as to do away the impression produced by forty previous years of impunity and reward. And till then — till the reformation of the discipline in New South Wales were fully appreciated in England, no good whatever would be effected by the change : for, as we must once more repeat, it is not suffering, but the expectation of suffering, that does good. Generation after generation of criminals would be shipped off before the truth was completely learned, that the same sentence which formerly implied nothing terrific, was at length become a serious penalty. And lastly, the effect must even, after all, be comparatively trifling, of a punishment undergone at the distance of a four months' voyage.
That a system, on the face of it so little calculated to secure
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the great end of punishment, the prevention of crime, should have been so long persevered in, indeed, should have ever been resorted to, is to be attributed, we conceive, chiefly to the hope of attaining those other objects which we have already noticed as of a subordinate character: viz. first, reform, or at least, removal of the individual culprits ; and, secondly, the benefit to the colony resulting from their labour. It may, perhaps, be thought scarcely necessary ever to notice these supposed advan- tages, because, as we have above remarked, could these be attained in the utmost perfection, yet if the great object, pre- vention, were not accomplished, the whole scheme must be regarded as a failure. We shall, however, venture on a few remarks relative to these subordinate objects, because, we con- ceive, that the expediency of the present system, even with a view to them alone, is greatly overrated.
With respect to the reformation of offenders, that it has been, in some instances, more or less perfectly attained, there can be no doubt : but that, in the generality of cases, the dis- cipline undergone in the colony should be sufficient even to undo the evil of the passage — to remove but the additional contamina- tion contracted during the voyage out — is more than either reasonable conjecture, or experience, would allow us to hope. For let any one but consider the probable effects of a close intercourse for four months, of a number of criminals of various ages, and degrees of guilt, with nothing whatever to do in all that time but to talk over their exploits of roguery ! They must be like grass heaped together in a green state, and suffered to become mow-burnt before it is spread out and turned. That would deserve to be called a mighty reformation, which should ever bring them back to their former state, and leave them merely no worse than they were before the voyage. Of the sort of life led by the convicts during the passage, Mr. C. gives nearly such an account as might have been anticipated.
" A man being estimated in this kind of society according to the amount and adroitness of his villanies, it is no wonder that the yet ' mute inglorious ' Barriugtons of the day should crown themselves
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occasionally with the bays appertaining to other brows, or boast of robberies committed only in their imagination, in order to elevate themselves to something like a par with more dignified culprits. Almost all their conversation is of the larcenous kind, — consisting of details of their various robberies, and the singular adventures they have passed through ; but generally one-half of these are either sheer invention, or dressed up in such a way as to show off in the most flattering point of view before the eyes of their asso- ciates.
" The adventures of some of these men are certainly both extraordinary and amusing ; and the tact with which they will humbug the very individuals whom they are plundering, might serve to entertain even the plundered party. It is the rogue's in- terest, of course, to make the adventure tell well to his own credit, and therefore considerable deduction must generally be made for the embellishments wherewith he garnishes his tale. I once listened unobserved to the relation of an adroit and facetiously-managed robbery, which the hero was detailing with great glee ; and the admirable manner in which the whole was wound up, called forth such a spontaneous burst of laughter and applause from the throng around, that he rapturously exclaimed, while striking the bench with his firmly-clenched fist, (his whole countenance beaming de- lightedly,) ' By G — , I could steal a shirt off a fellow's back without his knowing it ! '
" It is, in sober sadness, time fruitlessly expended, to attempt the reformation of these people when crowded thus 'knave upon knave : ' those who may be seriously inclined are jeered out of it by the rest, and the reformation you bring about is a mere bam meant to be turned to gainful account by making a dupe of you. All you ought to attempt, under such circumstances, is to bring about regularity and decency of conduct. If you aim at more, you only make hypocrites, which is ten times worse than permitting them to remain (as you find them) open downright knaves."
Accordingly, those convicts who return after the expiration of their sentence, or who escape before, are generally found to be the most perfect and accomplished villains.
Many, however, remain and settle in the colony ; but the majority of them appear to turn out just such settlers, as from their previous habits of life, might be anticipated.
" The thriving and fertile districts of Airds and Apin are
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situated in the county of Cumberland, immediately beyond the Cow- pasture, looking from Camden. They are chiefly occupied by small settlers, who have been originally convicts, out of many of whose hands the grants are slowly passing through the thoughtless, spend- thrift conduct of the occupants."
Their posterity, however, appear to be considerably im- proved. Of the cwrreracy-population, (as the natives of the settlement are called,) Mr. C. seems to think very favourably; and indeed no class of mortals are more likely to meet with an indulgent judgment, since even tolerable conduct presents a striking contrast to that of their progenitors. They are de- scribed as remarkable for honesty : query, in what degree may this be attributed to the total absence of all hope of being re- warded for dishonesty, by being sent to New South Wales? Honesty, however, in another sense, is represented as far less common than black swans. The females, it seems, are cleanly and active, but " do not reckon chastity as the first of virtues." But though they cannot boast that " the women are all vir- tuous," "the men are all brave." By Mr. C.'s account they excel as pugilists ; practising that noble art with great valour and skill from their childhood, and generally proving victorious in a boxing-match, "between sterling and currency!" Who knows but that in addition to her exports of merino-wool, Aus- tralia may one day furnish a " champion of England."
It is, however, considered by some as a matter of great self-congratulation, that these persons are so much superior to what any children of such profligate parents would have proved if they had remained in England. But this proceeds on the manifestly false assumption that, in that case, the same numerous progeny would have arisen; whereas reason and ex- perience show that (to say nothing of the boasted fecundity of the worst description of females in New Holland) whenever settlers are placed in an unoccupied territory, where conse- quently the supply of subsistence is practically unlimited, population increases with vast rapidity ; as in the North Ameri- can States, where the numbers advance as much in five-and-
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twenty years, as in Europe in five centuries. The immediate progeny of one thousand reprobates of both sexes, reared in England in one generation, would hardly much exceed, probably would fall short of, the number of their parents : in a new colony, they are likely to be four or five times as numerous. Whether, therefore, these are better than their parents, is not the question ; but whether they are the best population with which we could stock the country — whether it be wise to save for seed the worst plants — whether they are better than none at all — and whether, if they are, the advantage is worth purchasing at such a cost as that of holding out a bonus to criminals, and consequently shaking the very foundations of social order.
But to return to the consideration of the actual convicts : we are inclined to think that transportation is looked to not so much with a sanguine hope of their reform, as with a view to the getting rid of them. Now supposing we could (which is not possible) clear the kingdom at. once of all criminals, by ship- ping them off to New South Wales, and that every sentence of transportation were for life, (which should clearly be the case if riddance be our object,) still the country would be no gainer un- less we got rid of the crimes as well as the individual criminals ; and this could never be done unless the transportation were a dreaded punishment. For it is not to be imagined that thieves are a distinct species, like wolves, so that if we could but exter- minate them all, (as the Saxon king did our four-footed sheep- stealers,) the breed would be extinct. "Man" (says the legal maxim) " is a wolf to man." While human nature remains, property, as far as it is not protected by fear of punishment, will ever offer a temptation to depredation. Fresh offenders would immediately arise ; not indeed corrupted by the example and in- struction of those sent out of the country, but encouraged by their impunity ; and thus we might go on till we had peopled New Holland with rogues, without the least diminishing the number at home. " Uno avulso non deficit alter.1'' To think of diminishing crime by simply removing the criminals, without
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holding out an effectual terror to future offenders, is like under- taking to empty a lake by baling out the water, without stopping the river which flows into it. Now the existing system exactly corresponds with the above supposition, except in two points : first, that as we cannot transport all, or nearly all offenders, there are always enough left at home to train successive genera- tions of tiros in villainy ; and, secondly, that as most sentences of transportation are only for a term of years, we do not effectu- ally get rid even of those who are sent out. We do indeed get rid for ever of such of them as are disposed to lead a reformed life ; they seldom fail to become settlers ; but the most incor- rigible are sure to return. So that this system of " riddance " not only fails of its object, but, by a kind of whimsical perver- sity, fails precisely in the instances in which its success is most desired.
Some writers express wonder and alarm at the increase of crime : we wish they were more alarmed, and less astonished ; to us, the wonder is, that crimes do not increase much faster ; and we look forward with great alarm to the continuance of the present system, as one likely to bear its poisonous fruits in con- tinually greater abundance and perfection as it advances toward maturity of growth.
Having now arrived at our conclusions, by an analytical ex- amination of the subject, it is time that we should compare them with those of the Select Committee, whose Report we have men- tioned at the head of this Article. In this comparison we regret to find a most essential difference, between the Report and our own views. In regard to transportation for fourteen, and for seven years, the views of the Committee may be said to coincide with ours ; but the coincidence is more of detail than of principle. Their objection to the former term of years is that '* for those who dread the loss of their native country, it gives a hope of return, which greatly diminishes the value of the punishment.' With this they couple the consideration that " the returned transport is generally a very abandoned character, and he usually returns to his old criminal society, thus forming a link, as it
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were, between the thieves at large, and the thieves under punish- ment." (p. 14.) In regard to the shorter term of transportation, " the Committee would be inclined to recommend that the punish- ment should be abolished;" but as some convicts had lately been sent to Bermuda, and the result of the experiment was as yet unknown, they thought proper to suspend their judgment. Of transportation commuted into labour on board the hulks, the Com- mittee expressed their disapprobation, at least in its present state, on account of the lightness of the labour enforced, and the want of separation between the different sorts of criminals.
But the approbation which the Committee give to transpor- tation for life, is most positive and unqualified.
" Transportation for life is an excellent punishment in certain cases. Where a man has made crime his habit and profession, where he has become the chief, or a member of a band of thieves, and has no resource on his return from imprisonment but to herd with the same gang, and pursue the same practices, it is both mercy and jus- tice to spare his life, and to remove him to a distant colony, where he may first afford an example of punishment by hard labour, and by degrees lose his vicious propensities in a new state of society. — Much has been said of the advantages enjoyed by the convicts in New South Wales, and the little effect which the punishment in- spires. Still there are numbers to whom the notion of being ban- ished for life, with several years of convict labour in addition, is very formidable, nor would it be wise to abandon such a punish- ment." (p. 14.)
No power of argument, or even demonstration, can avail against such decisions. The Committee's conclusion amounts to this : much has been said against transportation for life, but still " it is an excellent punishment." Experience seems to prove that the threat of such a punishment inspires no fear ; but " still there are numbers to whom it is formidable." To what class the individuals belong who form these numbers, the Com- mittee do not stop to enquire. The notion of banishment for life, and convict labour, is far from being agreeable to them- selves, and on the strength of this feeling they assert the exist- ence of numbers to whom this notion is formidable. How the
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Committee are prepared to prove that it has that effect on that sort of men in relation to whom they ought to have settled the question — how either from reasoning or experience they can show that a man who has made crime his habit and profession, who has become the chief or a member of a band of thieves, which in ninety- nine out of a hundred cases is the effect of his not be- ing able to subsist by labour as hard and much more hopeless than that with which he is threatened — how they are to per- suade the world that such men are so attached to their native soil as to dread the exchange of it for one more fertile, mild, and cheerful — one besides of the same language as their own — one, in fine, where, as far as country means any thing connected with the intellectual and moral part of man, an Englishman will find himself more at home than if he were sent to many parts of Ireland, or the Hebrides, we are at a loss to guess.
But we cannot take leave of the Committee without ad- verting to the unsteadiness of their views in regard to any standard by which to ascertain the usefulness of the punish- ment which they were considering, and which they so strongly recommended. The excellence of transportation for life, to judge by their statement, consists, 1st. In the example of punishment afforded by the temporary hard labour of the convict; 2ndly. In the probability that by degrees he will " lose his vicious propensities in a new state of society." This is a striking example of unphilosophical investigation. The question is, whether transportation for life is good as a punish- ment? Good in respect to what end of punishment? ought to have been the first question. A glimpse of the true end, prevention of crime, seems to have crossed the minds of the Committee, and accordingly they endeavour to make out transportation useful as an example. On finding this im- practicable, they seize on an incidental circumstance of trans- portation, i.e. hard labour, and on this they fasten their conclusion. But it happens unfortunately for the argument, that the hard labour, which, as we have observed, is a mere incident in the case, wants every one of the circumstances
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■which are essential to useful example : it is not seen by those who should be deterred ; it is an evil with which they are familiar ; it cannot be much worse than the hard labour to which they must submit if they abstain from crime ; and being to their minds at an indefinite distance of time and space, it loses in the gay hues of hope every harsh feature of punish- ment. So much for example. The weakness of this argument being probably felt by the Committee, they turned to the usual resource in such cases — accumulation of reasons. If removal for life to Botany Bay (they seem to say) should not be found to act powerfully as an example, it is, at all events, conducive to the reform of the convict. But what is the ground of their hopes on this score ? The influence of a new state of society. Now if a new state of society can have any chance in correcting vicious habits, its novelty must consist in the removal of every thing that cherished the evil propensities, and smothered the good ones, of the individual to be reformed. One half, and perhaps more, of our worst characters would be reformed, could they be placed among a set of virtuous and industrious people, who, from their ignorance of the previous misconduct of the strangers, should be ready to treat them with kindness, and able to give them a share in their industry and profits. But what is the new state of society to which the convicts are removed ? What is there new to them in their place of exile, but what, if transportation is not to be a reward instead of punishment, must necessarily increase their vicious- ness? Are they not introduced into a society in which de- pravity is the general rule, and honesty the exception ? Are they not to be reduced to a kind of slavery, the greatest corrupter of the human heart? Are they not to be branded with a mark of infamy which even a thorough reformation, supported by all the influence of the first authority of the country, can never remove ? Let any one who doubts it, read the parliamentary report on the state of New South Wales, and he will find that the main source of all the disturbances occasioned by the government of General Macquarie, was his
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leniency towards reformed convicts — his (as we think) benevo- lent yet mistaken view of the penal end of transportation. It is curious indeed to observe how two men, in bitter opposition to each other, agree, though unawares, in furnishing proofs of our position, that if convicts are treated in New South Wales, as they must be if transportation is to be a punishment to them, it is morally impossible that they should be reformed. Commissioner Bigge observes very justly, that
" A propensity to violence of language and abuse, insensibly becomes a habit in those to whom the irksome task is committed of enforcing compulsory labour, or wholesome restraint against refractory and vicious men ; such conduct indeed certainly has no tendency to the improvement of a depraved character, and as certainly debases and hardens the heart of others." — (p. 30.)
It is most true, and it has long been known both from theory and experience, that slavery corrupts both the slave and the master. Now take the picture drawn by General Macquarie.
" I have no doubt that many convicts who might have been ren- dered useful and good men, had they been treated with humane and reasonable control, have sunk into despondence by the unfeeling treatment of such masters ; and that many of those wretched men, driven to acts of violence by hard usage, and who by a contrary treatment might have been reformed, have betaken themselves to the woods, where they can only subsist by plunder, and have terminated their lives on the gallows ; but with every indulgence that can reasonably be extended to convicts, transportation is far from being a light sentence ; it is at best a state of slavery ; and the fate of the convict, as to misery or comparative comfort, depending on the will of his master, the constant sense of degrada- tion and loss of liberty is a severe punishment, which has no remission while he is in a state of bondage." — (lb. p. 31.)
The natural, inevitable inference from these statements is, that the improvement of such convicts as are generally trans- ported, is incompatible with an adequate punishment of their crimes : so that the additional reason adduced by the Committeo to prop up their lame defence of transportation as punishment, namely the probability of reform, excludes, and is mutually
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excluded by that argument which it was meant to support. It is like the advice of a physician who prescribed ice to his patient, and then, fearing that might be too cold a remedy, sug- gested, as an improvement, that it should be warmed.
But what is to become of the colony, on which we have already expended so much, if we cease thus to supply it with labourers at the public expense? It would be a pity to check its rising prosperity, to which convict labour so much contributes.
" Nothing, in fact," (says Mr. Cunningham.) " ever created greater dismay among us, than the announcement, some two years ago, of a project for the future disposal of convict labour in the fur- therance of government works at home, and in other colonies in pre- ference to this ; while our colonial wags still occasionally delight to work upon our fears, by propagating alarming reports of the increasing morality of the people of Great Britain, or of the lightness of the last jail-deliveries there — reports which the visitor to England will soon find quite destitute of foundation." (Vol. i. p. 12.)
Aristotle long since remarked this principle — the high value set on any thing that has cost much ; which is recognised in the proverbial expression of " throwing good money after bad." And so powerful is this principle, that if we were not prepared to point out a mode of much more effectually benefiting the colony by a different procedure, we should almost despair of obtaining a fair hearing for the reasons against the present system. And yet the object of affording aid to the settlers is clearly and confessedly subordinate to the main one — the pre- vention of crime. Indeed, the colony was first settled with a view to that very object ; so that it would evidently be an absurd inconsistency, when that object is found not to be promoted, to continue sacrificing the end to the means; first to found a colony for the sake of transporting convicts, and then (folloiving our own footsteps) to transport convicts for the sake of the colony. We remember an old country squire, who kept a number of horses, and, of course, a great many servants to look after them. For the last forty years of his life he never rode ; but
W. E. T
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he still kept the horses, to find employment for his servants in exercising and grooming them !
To adhere to a system which cherishes, or at least does not keep down, violations of the laws here, in order that we may be enabled to keep up a supply of useful labourers for New South Wales, is the same sort of economy which Swift recommends in his "directions to the groom," for the benefit of his master's service, viz. to " fill the horses' rack with hay to the top, though perhaps they may not have the stomach to eat ; if the hay be thrown doivn, there is no loss, for it will make litter, and save straw.'1''
In the present instance, however, the spoiled hay does not appear even to make good litter. The Emancipists, as they are called — those who have come out as convicts, are described, in an extract already given, as for the most part idle, unthrifty settlers ; and the currency, those born in the colony, are repre- sented as generally preferring a seafaring life, having the odious associations of crime and slavery connected with agricultural pursuits ; a feeling perfectly natural under such circumstances, but the very last one we would wish to find in a colony. This particular disadvantage was not especially pointed out, among the rest, by Bacon ; but the system has, on other accounts, his decided disapprobation. " It is," says he, " a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people and wicked con- demned men to be the people with whom you plant." One of the results, not, we apprehend, originally contemplated, is that these " wicked condemned men," have planted for themselves several volunteer-colonies ; escaping in small craft, either to the South Sea Islands, (in many of which, for a good while past, each native chief has for a prime minister some choice graduate of the university of Newgate,) or, more frequently, to some part of the coast of New Holland, or some of the small islands at a little distance from the main, particularly one called Kan- garoo Island ; where they settle, and subsist chiefly on wild animals ; especially seals, whose skins and oil form a profit- able article of traffic with the small traders from the mother-
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colony. Several more of these lawless settlements are supposed to exist besides those generally known; as it is clearly the interest of the above-mentioned traders, when they discover such a one, to keep the knowledge to themselves, for the sake of monopolizing the commerce. A most profitable trade they of course find it ; as their customers are not only willing to pay an enormous price in oil for the luxuries of rum and tobacco, but when once intoxicated, are easily stripped of all. Another article, it seems, has been found more profitable in this trade than even rum; viz. women; who, if kidnapped at Botany Bay, and carried off to one of these settlements, will sell for a whole ocean of seal oil ! This infernal traffic was betrayed by the wreck of a vessel, from which, in consequence, two women, who had been thus carried off from Sydney, made their escape, and it is to be hoped put others on their guard against the detestable fate designed for them. These volunteer settlers, however, it seems, resort to another expedient to supply themselves with wives: viz. seizing on the native black women, after, we presume, knocking on the head the males of the tribe.
" At Kangaroo Island, on our southern coast, about four hundred miles to the west of Bass Straits, a settlement of this kind has long existed, as I have before mentioned ; (by the latest accoxints, this settlement contains a population of forty individuals, — men, women, and children ;) the men having reached that point by coasting along in boats, and having seized and carried off native women. During the seal season they live upon the coast, feasting upon the seal-flesh which their loives procure for them ; and on the season being over, retire to their village, built in a valley in the interior, and subsist upon the produce of their gardens and what game they can destroy. They lead a most slothful, idle life, obliging their women to perform all the drudgery, but occasionally assisting vessels calling there to load with salt, which is found covering the bed of a lagoon six inches deep; and bartering their seal-skins for rum, tea, sugar, and so forth, with the crews. The senior individual upon the settlement is named Abyssinia, and has lived there fourteen years and upwards. A7arious islands in Bass Straits are also peopled in like manner; Flinder's Island, according to the latest accounts,
t3
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containing twenty, including women and children." ( Two Tears in New South Wales, vol. ii. p. 203.)
So that we may hope in time to have the coast of New South Wales, surrounded by a fringe, as it were, of colonies of half-castes, consisting of a mixture of the blood of the most debased of savages, with that of the more refined and intelligent scoundrels of civilized society ; and exhibiting, we may antici- pate, a curious specimen of the worst possible form of human nature. And thus it is that we are proceeding to people Aus- tralia. The land is certainly planted, but it is planted with the worst of weeds, according to the ingenious experiment suggested in the Tempest for Prospero's Island —
" Gonzalo. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord
Antonio. He'd sow it with nettle seed."
" But all these," we have heard it replied, " are merely incidental evils; they are no part of the design." If this means merely that no system should be at once con- demned solely because some incidental evils are connected with it, as some must be with every system, in this we heartily concur. Navigation is a good thing, although ships are occa- sionally wrecked, and men drowned. But if it be meant that incidental evils are, on that ground, to be totally disregarded, and left out of calculation, the best mode we can think of for disabusing one who holds such an opinion, is, that he should take up his abode next door to a soap-boiler, with a brazier on the other side of his house, a slaughter-house over the way, and a store of gunpowder in the vaults beneath him ; being ad- monished at the same time to remember that if his eyes, nose, and ears are incessantly annoyed, and he is ultimately blown up, these are only incidental evils.
But we must hasten to redeem our pledge of pointing out (which our limits warn us must be done in a very few and brief hints) a mode of even improving the situation of the colony without this every-way-objectionable supply of convicts. The persons we would have sent out (we would not have it called
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transportation) are able-bodied paupers ; those who are capable and desirous of labour, but cannot get employment, or not sufficient to maintain a family without parish aid. These are precisely the description of persons to whom a colony, with a practically-boundless extent of territory, is best suited ; because there, a moderate degree of industry will furnish a more abundant subsistence, and a better security against future want, than the most severe and unremitting toil in a full-peopled state'; and because a large family is there an aid instead of a burden, and a source, not of gloomy anxiety, but of cheering anticipations. Many a man so circumstanced, and provided for in the way here suggested, would probably be one, who, under the present system, would ultimately have found his way, in another character, to Botany Bay ; but not till after having yielded to the temptations arising from distress, he had been led on, step by step, to the commission of crimes which would have gone far to disqualify him for becoming a useful settler. Had the system recommended been pursued from the beginning, many of the same colonists would have now been there who are there now ; with the difference of an unstained character and undepraved disposition ; with those evils, in short, prevented, which we are now, too often in vain, labouring to cure. And no one who was reduced to apply to the Public for relief, could complain of its being bestowed in the mode most con- venient to the public. The community would say to these persons, " we do not force, or even ask you to leave your country ; stay and welcome, if you can maintain yourself by your labour at home ; but if you cannot, it is both allowable and kind to send you to a place where you can." And as there would be no compulsion to go, so there would be no prohibition of return ; if, as would probably sometimes happen, a man should, in the course of years, have realized enough to place him above want in his own country, and he had a desire to end his days in- it. Only, every such emigrant should be made, in the eye of the law, a native of that country (whether New Holland, Canada, or the Cape — for we would not confine the
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system to any one colony) to which he had been conveyed at the public expense. He should, if he chose to return, have no claim to parochial relief.
One objection has been suggested to us, which, though at first sight formidable, will admit, in theory at least, of a ready answer : it is, that such a measure as we are recommending should be preceded by a repeal of the corn-laws ; on the ground that it is unreasonable to send a man to earn his bread in a foreign land, who could earn it at home, if you would let him ■ buy it as cheaply as others would be willing to supply it. This is not the place for discussing the question of the corn-laws ; but it is sufficient for the present purpose that it should be admitted, which is surely undeniable, that they either are, or are not necessary for the public welfare ; that if they are not, then, however profitable they may be to any individuals, they ought at any rate to be altered ; and that if they are a public benefit, no one has a right to complain of being obliged to sub- mit to the consequences of them.
But what shall we do with the convicts ? This is a question truly important, but of which the full discussion does not seem necessary, if the foregoing conclusions be admitted as established. If what we now hold out as a punishment be proved to be in some cases a very inadequate .punishment, in more, a reward, that is surely a sufficient reason for beginning to turn our thoughts towards the adoption of some system of punishment, and of effectual punishment ; though we may not be able at once to point out which is the most effectual.
The traveller, whose case we adverted to in the opening of this article, when he discovered that he was riding in a circle, was not probably able to decide at once which was his best road ; but he did not, we imagine, for that reason continue contentedly to follow his own track, round and round ; it was plain he was going wrong, whichever way might be right.
But, in fact, it cannot be said that we should be even for a moment utterly at a loss how to dispose of criminals, should actual transportation be discontinued ; since, as it is, a majority
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of those sentenced to it do not actually undergo it. And of all the substitutes that have been resorted to, unequal as their re- commendations may be, we will venture to say the very worst is is far less objectionable, in many respects, than actual trans- portation.
With respect to every sentence of confinemeut to hard labour, whether at the tread-wheel, or of any other kind, we would venture to suggest what we cannot but consider as a most important improvement, viz. that instead of a certain period of time, a convict should be sentenced to go through a certain quantity of work. We mean that a computation should be made of the average number of miles for instance which a man sentenced to the tread-wheel would be expected to walk in a week ; and that then, a sentence of so many iveeks1 labour should be interpreted to mean, so many miles ; the convict to be released when, and not before, he had " dreed his weird ;" whether he chose to protract or to shorten the time of his penance. In the same manner he might be sentenced to beat so many hundred weight of hemp ; dig a ditch of such and such di- mensions, &c. ; always exacting some labour of all prisoners, and fixing a minimum sufficiently high to keep up the notion of hard labour, but leaving them at liberty as to the amount of it above the fixed daily task. The great advantage resulting would be, that criminals, whose habits probably had previously been idle, would thus be habituated not only to labour, but to form some agreeable association with the idea of labour. Every step a man took in the tread -wheel, he would be walking out of prison ; every stroke of the spade would be cutting a passage for restoration to society.
Among other kinds of penal labour, we would hint at one not much different from the best kind of employment of the trans- ported convicts, viz. the draining, paring, and burning, and otherwise fitting for cultivation, of the Irish peat-bogs ; not with a view, however, to their being afterwards settled by the con- victs ; as it would be easy to people the territory thus reclaimed with far better colonists, and with such as would ultimately
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prove of eminent service to that country1. We are aware that in most instances the land thus reclaimed would not be worth the cost of the labour bestowed on it, were that labour to be hired ; but that is not the question : if worth any tiling, that worth would be all clear gain. The convicts must be maintained at the public expense, even though kept in idleness. Though their work, therefore, should amount to less than their main- tenance, it is yet desirable that it should diminish that public expense, which it is insufficient to cover. The first object is -penal labour ; the next point is, that that labour should be at least of some use. And if the expense of a four months' voyage to New South Wales be taken into the calculation, it will probably be found that every acre cleared by convict-labour there, costs the public many times more than an acre reclaimed from an Irish peat-bog, which is thenceforward of many times greater value to the country. And it is to be observed, that all the principal bogs in Ireland (amounting, it is supposed, to between one and two millions of acres) are capable of being not only drained, but brought into a state of great productiveness. Peat contains abundance of vegetable matter, the main material of fertility, but is barren through its constant wetness, its spongy texture, want of decomposition, absence of a sufficient mixture of earthy matter, and the occasional presence of sulphate of iron. This last, which is poisonous to vegetation, is decomposed, and ren- dered salutary by the addition of lime, which also is a powerful decomposer of vegetable fire ; gravel, sand, or clay, in fact any earthy substance, forms a most effectual and permanent manure for peaty land; at once decomposing its parts, and giving firmness to the soil. And in most cases such a manure is at hand ; most peat-bogs resting on a clayey substratum. We are ourselves acquainted with a peat-bog in Yorkshire, which, after draining, was converted into good corn-land, at the ex- pense of seven pounds per acre, by overspreading the surface with clay, which was found at the depth of six feet.
• On this subject, see some remarks (with most of which we fully coincide, though not with all) in a Letter to Mr. Malthu3, in No. 17 of the Pamphleteer.
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But whether this, or any other scheme of penal labour be thought worth trying, or whether in any, or in all instances, corporal chastisement should be considered preferable, there are two important conclusions which we think both reason and experience will fully warrant, and which we hope to see prac- tically admitted : 1st, That the particular kind of punishment allotted to each offence should be as far as possible fixed, and known with certainty beforehand, in order that the execution of the sentence may at least furnish an experiment, and may serve to guide our judgment as to its efficacy : — 2ndly, That we should not be too anxious to accomplish several objects at once ; but keep steadily in view the main purpose of penal legislation, lest we sacrifice that, in the pursuit of subordinate objects, and lose sight of the prevention of crime, in the midst of our schemes for reclaiming hardened villains and Australian forests1.
1 This article was reprinted nearly thirty years ago in a letter to Earl Grey ; and some years after, I published the substance of a speech on the same sub- ject. To some persons it may seem
strange that a system should have been so long adhered to, which was, as Mr. Senior has justly observed, " begun in defiance of all reason, and maintained in defiance of all experience."
III.
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Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. By the Author of " Sense and Sensibility," " Pride and Prejudice," " Mansfield Park," and " Emma." 4 vols. New Edition.
The times seem to be past when an apology was requisite from reviewers for condescending to notice a novel ; when they felt themselves bound in dignity to deprecate the suspicion of paying much regard to such trifles, and pleaded the necessity of occasionally stooping to humour the taste of their fair readers. The delights of fiction, if not more keenly or more generally relished, are at least more readily acknowledged by men of sense and taste ; and we have lived to hear the merits of the best of this class of writings earnestly discussed by some of the ablest scholars and soundest reasoners of the present day.
We are inclined to attribute this change, not so much to an alteration in the public taste, as in the character of the pro- ductions in question. Novels may not, perhaps, display more genius now than formerly, but they contain more solid sense ; they may not afford higher gratification, but it is of a nature which men are less disposed to be ashamed of avowing. We remarked, in a former Number1, in reviewing a work of the author now before us, that " a new style of novel has arisen, within the last fifteen or twenty years, differing from the former in the points upon which the interest hinges ; neither alarming our credulity nor amusing our imagination by wild variety of incident, or by those pictures of romantic affection and sensi- bility, which were formerly as certain attributes of fictitious characters as they are of rare occurrence among those who actually live and die. The substitute for these excitements,
1 The Article was by Sir Walter Scott.
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which had lost much of their poignancy by the repeated and injudicious use of them, was the art of copying from nature as she really exists in the common walks of life, and pre- senting to the reader, instead of the splendid scenes of an imaginary world, a correct and striking representation of what is daily taking place around him."
Now, though the origin of this new school of fiction may probably be traced, as we there suggested, to the exhaustion of the mines from which materials for entertainment had been hitherto extracted, and the necessity of gratifying the natural craving of the reader for variety, by striking into an untrodden path ; the consequences resulting from this change have been far greater than the mere supply of this demand. When this Flemish painting, as it were, is introduced — this accurate and unexaggerated delineation of events and characters — it neces- sarily follows, that a novel, which makes good its pretensions of giving a perfectly correct picture of common life, becomes a far more instructive work than one of equal or superior merit of the other class ; it guides the judgment, and supplies a kind of arti- ficial experience. It is a remark of the great father of criticism, that Poetry {i.e. narrative, and dramatic poetry) is of a more philosophical character than History ; inasmuch as the latter details what has actually happened, of which many parts may chance to be exceptions to the general rules of probability, and consequently illustrate no general principles ; whereas the former shows us what must naturally, or would probably, happen under given circumstances ; and thus displays to us a comprehensive view of human nature, and furnishes general rules of practical wisdom. It is evident, that this will apply only to such fictions as are quite perfect in respect of the pro- bability of their story; and that he, therefore, who resorts to the fabulist rather than the historian, for instruction in human character and conduct, must throw himself entirely on the judgment and skill of his teacher, and give him credit for talents much more rare than the accuracy and veracity which are the chief requisites in history. We fear, therefore, that
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the exultation -which we can conceive some of our gentle readers to feel, at having Aristotle's warrant for (what probably they had never dreamed of) the philosophical character of their studies, must, in practice, be somewhat qualified, by those sundry little violations of probability which are to be met with in most novels ; and which so far lower their value, as models of real life, that a person who had no other preparation for the world than is afforded by them, would form, probably, a less accurate idea of things as they are, than he would of a lion from studying merely the representations on China tea- pots.
Accordingly, a heavy complaint has long lain against works of fiction, as giving a false picture of what they profess to imitate, and disqualifying their readers for the ordinary scenes and every-day duties of life. And this charge applies, we apprehend, to the generality of what are strictly called novels, with even more justice than to romances. When all the charac- ters and events are very far removed from what we see around us, — when, perhaps, even supernatural agents are introduced, the reader may indulge, indeed, in occasional day-dreams, but will be so little reminded of what he has been reading, by any thing that occurs in actual life, that though he may perhaps feel some disrelish for the tameness of the scene before him, com- pared with the fairy-land he has been visiting, yet at least his judgment will not be depraved, nor his expectations misled; he will not apprehend a meeting with Algerine banditti on English shores, nor regard the old woman who shows him about an antique country seat, as either an enchantress or the keeper of an imprisoned damsel. But it is otherwise with those fictions which differ from common life in little or nothing but the improbability of the occurrences : the reader is insensibly led to calculate upon some of those lucky incidents and opportune coincidences of which he has been so much accustomed to read, and which, it is undeniable, may take place in real life ; and to feel a sort of confidence, that however romantic his conduct may be, and in whatever difficulties it may involve him, all will
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be sure to come right at last, as is invariably the case with the hero of a novel.
On the other hand, so far as these pernicious effects fail to be produced, so far does the example lose its influence, and the exercise of poetical justice is rendered vain. The reward of virtuous conduct being brought about by fortunate accidents, he who abstains (taught, perhaps, by bitter disappointments) from reckoning on such accidents, wants that encouragement to virtue, which alone has been held out to him. " If I were a man in a novel," we remember to have heard an ingenious friend observe, "I should certainly act so and so, because I should be sure of being no loser by the most heroic self-devotion, and of ultimately succeeding in the most daring enterprises."
It may be said, in answer, that these objections apply only to the unskilful novelist, who, from ignorance of the world, gives an unnatural representation of what he professes to delineate. This is partly true, and partly not ; for there is a distinction to be made between the unnatural and the merely improbable : a fiction is unnatural when there is some assignable reason against the events taking place as described, — when men are represented as acting contrary to the character assigned them, or to human nature in general ; as when a young lady of seventeen, brought up in ease, luxury, and retirement, with no companions but the narrow-minded and illiterate, displays (as a heroine usually does) under the most trying circumstances, such wisdom, forti- tude, and knowledge of the world, as the best instructors and the best examples can rarely produce without the aid of more mature age and longer experience. — On the other hand, a fiction is still improbable, though not unnatural, when there is no reason to be assigned why things should not take place as represented, except that the overbalance of chances is against it ; the hero meets, in his utmost distress, most opportunely, with the very person to whom he had formerly done a signal service, and who happens to communicate to him a piece of intelligence which sets all to rights. Why should he not meet him as well as any one else ? all that can be said is, that there is no reason why he
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should. The infant who is saved from a wreck, and who after- wards becomes such a constellation of virtues and accomplish- ments, turns out to be no other than the nephew of the very gentleman, on whose estate the waves had cast him, and whose lovely daughter he had so long sighed for in vain : there is no reason to be given, except from the calculation of chances, why he should not have been thrown on one part of the coast as well as another. Nay, it would be nothing unnatural, though the most determined novel-reader would be shocked at its improba- bility, if all the hero's enemies, while they were conspiring his ruin, were to be struck dead together by a lucky flash of light- ning : yet many denouements which are decidedly unnatural, are better tolerated than this would be.
We shall, perhaps, best explain our meaning by examples, taken from a novel of great merit in many respects. When Lord Glenthorn, in whom a most unfavourable education has acted on a most unfavourable disposition, after a life of torpor, broken only by short sallies of forced exertion, on a sudden re- verse of fortune, displays at once the most persevering diligence in the most repulsive studies, and in middle life, without any previous habits of exertion, any hope of early business, or the example of friends, or the stimulus of actual want, to urge him, outstrips every competitor, though every competitor has every advantage against him ; this is unnatural. — When Lord Glenthorn, the instant he is stripped of his estates, meets, falls in love with, and is conditionally accepted by the very lady who is remotely in titled to those estates ; when, the instant he has fulfilled the conditions of their marriage, the family of the person possessed of the estates becomes extinct, and by the concurrence of circumstances, against every one of which the chances were enormous, the hero is re-instated in all his old domains ; this is merely improbable.
The distinction which we have been pointing out may be plainly perceived in the events of real life ; when any thing takes place of such a nature as we should call, in a fiction, merely im- probable, because there are many chances against it, we call it a lucky or unlucky accident, a singular coincidence, something
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very extraordinary, odd, curious, &c. ; whereas any thing which, in a fiction, would be called unnatural, when it actually occurs, (and such things do occur,) is still called unnatural, inexpli- cable, unaccountable, inconceivable, &c, epithets which are not applied to events that have merely the balance of chances against them.
Now, though an author who understands human nature is not likely to introduce into his fictions any thing that is un- natural, he will often have much that is improbable : he may place his personages, by the intervention of accident, in striking situations, and lead them through a course of extraordinary adventures ; and yet, in the midst of all this, he will keep up the most perfect consistency of character, and make them act as it would be natural for men to act in such situations and circum- stances. Fielding's novels are a good illustration of this : they display great knowledge of mankind ; the characters are well preserved ; the persons introduced all act as one would naturally expect they should, in the circumstances in which they are placed; but these circumstances are such as it is incalculably improbable should ever exist : several of the events, taken singly, are much against the chances of probability ; but the combination of the whole in a connected series, is next to im- possible.
Even the romances which admit a mixture of supernatural agency, are not more unfit to prepare men for real life, than such novels as these; since one might just as reasonably calculate on the intervention of a fairy, as on the train of lucky chances which combine first to involve Tom Jones in his difficul- ties, and afterwards to extricate him. Perhaps, indeed, the supernatural fable is of the two not only (as we before remarked) the less mischievous in its moral effects, but also the more correct kind of composition in point of taste : the author lays down a kind of hypothesis of the existence of ghosts, witches, or fairies, and professes to describe what would take place under that hypothesis ; the novelist, on the contrary, makes no de- mand of extraordinary machinery, but professes to describe what may actually take place, according to the existing laws of
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human affairs : if he therefore present us with a series of events quite unlike any which ever do take place, we have reason to complain that he has not made good his professions.
When, therefore, the generality, even of the most approved novels, were of this character, (to say nothing of the heavier charges brought, of inflaming the passions of young persons by warm descriptions, weakening their abhorrence of profligacy by exhibiting it in combination with the most engaging qualities, and presenting vice in all its allurements, while setting forth the triumphs of" virtue rewarded") it is not to be wondered that the grave guardians of youth should have generally stigmatized the whole class, as " serving only to fill young people's heads with romantic love-stories, and rendering them unfit to mind any thing else." That this censure and caution should in many instances be indiscriminate, can surprise no one, who recollects how rare a quality discrimination is; and how much better it suits indolence, as well as ignorance, to lay down a rule, than to ascertain the exceptions to it. We are acquainted with a careful mother, whose daughters, while they never in their lives read a novel of any kind, are permitted to peruse, without reserve, any plays that happen to fall in their way ; and with another, from whom no lessons, however excellent, of wisdom and piety, con- tained in a prd*se-fictkm, can obtain quarter ; but who, on the other hand, is no less indiscriminately indulgent to her children in the article of tales in verse, of whatever character.
The change, however, which we have already noticed, as having taken place in the character of several modern novels, has operated in a considerable degree to do away this pre- judice ; and has elevated this species of composition, in some respects at least, into a much higher class. For most of that instruction which used to be presented to the world in the shape of formal dissertations, or shorter and more desultory moral essays, such as those of the Spectator and Rambler, we may now resort to the pages of the acute and judicious, but not less amusing, novelists who have lately appeared. If their views of men and manners are no less just than those of the
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essayists who preceded them, are they to be rated lower because they present to us these views, not in the language of general description, but in the form of well-constructed fictitious narrative? If the practical lessons they inculcate are no less sound and useful, it is surely no diminution of their merit that they are conveyed by example instead of precept : nor, if their remarks are neither less wise nor less important, are they the less valuable for being represented as thrown out in the course of conversations suggested by the circumstances of the speakers, and perfectly in character. The praise and blame of the moralist are surely not the less effectual for being bestowed, not in general declamation, on classes of men, but on individuals representing those classes, who are so clearly delineated and brought into action before us, that we seem to be acquainted with them, and feel an interest in their fate.
Biography is allowed, on all hands, to be one of the most attractive and profitable kinds of reading : now such novels as we have been speaking of, being a kind of fictitious biography, bear the same relation to the real, that epic and tragic Poetry, according to Aristotle, bear to History : they present us (sup- posing, of course, each perfect in its kind) with the general, in- stead of the particular, — the probable, instead of the true ; and, by leaving out those accidental irregularities, and exceptions to general rules, which constitute the many improbabilities of real narrative, present us with a clear and abstracted view of the general rules themselves ; and thus concentrate, as it were, into a small compass, the net result of wide experience.
Among the authors of this school there is no one superior, if equal, to the lady whose last production is now before us, and whom we have much regret in finally taking leave of: her death (in the prime of life, considered as a writer) being announced in this the first publication to which her name is prefixed. We regret the failure not only of a source of innocent amusement, but also of that supply of practical good sense and instructive example, which she would probably have continued W. E. TJ
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to furnish better than any of her contemporaries : — Miss Edge- worth, indeed, draws characters and details conversations, such as they occur in real life, with a spirit and fidelity not to be surpassed; but her stories are most romantically improbable, (in the sense above explained,) almost all the important events of them being brought about by most providential coincidences ; and this, as we have already remarked, is not merely faulty, inasmuch as it evinces a want of skill in the writer, and gives an air of clumsiness to the fiction, but is a very considerable drawback on its practical utility : the personages either of fiction or history being then only profitable examples, when their good or ill conduct meets its appropriate reward, not from a sort of independent machinery of accidents, but as a necessary or probable result, according to the ordinary course of affairs. Miss Edgeworth also is somewhat too avowedly didactic. That seems to be true of her, which the French critics, in the extravagance of their conceits, attributed to Homer and Virgil ; viz., that they first thought of a moral, and then framed a fable to illustrate it. She would, we think, instruct more suc- cessfully, and she would, we are sure, please more frequently, if she kept the design of teaching more out of sight, and did not so glaringly press every circumstance of her story, prin- cipal or subordinate, into the service of a principle to be incul- cated, or information to be given. A certain portion of moral instruction must accompany every well- invented narrative. Virtue must be represented as producing, at the long run, happiness ; and vice, misery ; and the accidental events, that in real life interrupt this tendency, are anomalies which, though true individually, are as false generally as the accidental de- formities which vary the average outline of the human figure. They would be as much out of place in a fictitious narrative, as a wen in an academic model. But any direct attempt at moral teaching, and any attempt whatever to give scientific information will, we fear, unless managed with the utmost dis- cretion, interfere with what, after all, is the immediate and
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peculiar object of the novelist, as of the poet, to please. If instruction do not join as a volunteer, she will do no good service. Miss Edgeworth's novels put us in mind of those clocks and watches which are condemned " a double or a treble debt to pay :" which, besides their legitimate object to show the hour, tell you the day of the month or the week, give you a landscape for a dial-plate, with the second hand forming the sails of a windmill, or have a barrel to play a tune, or an alarum to remind you of an engagement : all very good things in their way ; but so it is that these watches never tell the time so well as those in which that is the exclusive object of the maker. Every additional movement is an obstacle to the original design. We do not deny that we have learned much physic, and much law, from Patronage, particularly the lat- ter, for Miss Edgeworth's law is of a very original kind ; but it was not to learn law and physic that we took up the book, and we suspect we should have been more pleased if we had been less taught. With regard to the influence of religion, which is scarcely, if at all, alluded to in Miss Edgeworth's novels, we would abstain from pronouncing any decision which should apply to her personally. She may, for aught we know, entertain opinions which would not permit her, with consistency, to attribute more to it than she has done ; in that case she stands acquitted, in foro conscientice, of wilfully suppressing any thing which she acknowledges to be true and important ; but, as a writer, it must still be considered as a blemish, in the eyes at least of those who think differently, that virtue should be studiously inculcated with scarcely any reference to what they regard as the main spring of it; that vice should be traced to every other source except the want of religious prin- ciple ; that the most radical change from worthlessness to ex- cellence should be represented as wholly independent of that agent which they consider as the only one that can accomplish it ; and that consolation under affliction should be represented as derived from every source except the one which they look
u 8
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to as the only true and sure one : " is it not because there is no God in Israel that ye have sent to inquire of Baalzebub the God of Ekron?"
Miss Austin has the merit (in our judgment most essen- tial) of being evidently a christian writer: a merit which is much enhanced, both on the score of good taste, and of practical utility, by her religion being not at all obtrusive. She might defy the most fastidious critic to call any of her novels, (as Coelebs was designated, we will not say altogether without rea- son,) a " dramatic sermon." The subject is rather alluded- to, and that incidentally, than studiously brought forward and dwelt upon. In fact she is more sparing of it than would be thought desirable by some persons; perhaps even by herself, had she consulted merely her own sentiments ; but she probably in- troduced it as far as she thought would be generally acceptable and profitable : for when the purpose of inculcating a religious prin- ciple is made too palpably prominent, many readers, if they do not throw aside the book with disgust, are apt to fortify them- selves with that respectful kind of apathy with which they un- dergo a regular sermon, and prepare themselves as they do to swallow a dose of medicine, endeavouring to get it down in large gulps, without tasting it more than is necessary.
The moral lessons also of this lady's novels, though clearly and impressively conveyed, are not offensively put forward, but spring incidentally from the circumstances of the story ; they are not forced upon the reader, but he is left to collect them (though without difficulty) for himself: her's is that unpretend- ing kind of instruction which is furnished by real life ; and cer- tainly no author has ever conformed more closely to real life, as well in the incidents, as in the characters and descriptions. Her fables appear to us to be, in their own way, nearly faultless ; they do not consist (like those of some of the writers who have attempted this kind of common-life novel writing) of a string of unconnected events which have little or no bearing on one main plot, and are introduced evidently for the sole purpose of bring- ing in characters and conversations ; but have all that compact-
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ness of plan and unity of action which is generally produced by a sacrifice of probability : yet they have little or nothing that is not probable ; the story proceeds without the aid of extraor- dinary accidents : the events which take place are the necessary or natural consequences of what has preceded ; and yet (which is a very rare merit indeed) the final catastrophe is scarcely ever clearly foreseen from the beginning, and very often comes, upon the generality of readers at least, quite unexpected. We know not whether Miss Austin ever had access to the precepts of Aristotle ; but there are few, if any, writers of fiction who have illustrated them more successfully.
The vivid distinctness of description, the minute fidelity of detail, and air of unstudied ease in the scenes represented, which are no less necessary than probability of incident, to carry the reader's imagination along with the story, and give fiction the perfect appearance of reality, she possesses in a high degree ; and the object is accomplished without resorting to those devia- tions from the ordinary plan of narrative in the third person, which have been patronized by some eminent masters. We al- lude to the two other methods of conducting a fictitious story, viz. either by narrative in the first person, when the hero is made to tell his own tale, or by a series of letters; both of which we conceive have been adopted with a view of heighten- ing the resemblance of the fiction to reality. At first sight, in- deed, there might appear no reason why a story told in the first person should have more the air of a real history than in the third ; especially as the majority of real histories actually are in the third person. Nevertheless, experience seems to show that such is the case. Provided there be no want of skill in the writer, the resemblance to real life, of a fiction thus conducted, will approach much the nearest (other points being equal) to a deception, and the interest felt in it, to that which we feel in real transactions. We need only instance Defoe's Novels, which, in spite of much improbability, we believe have been oftener mis- taken for true narratives, than any fictions that ever were com- posed. Colonel Newport is well known to have been cited as an
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historical authority ; and we have ourselves found great diffi- culty in convincing many of our friends that Defoe was not himself the citizen, who relates the plague of London. The reason probably is, that in the ordinary form of narrative, the writer is not content to exhibit, like a real historian, a bare de- tail of such circumstances as might actually have come under his knowledge ; but presents us with a description of what is passing in the minds of the parties, and gives an account of their feelings and motives, as well as their most private conversations in various places at once. All this is very amusing, but per- fectly unnatural : the merest simpleton could hardly mistake a fiction of this kind for a true history, unless he believed the writer to be endued with omniscience and omnipresence, or to be aided by familiar spirits, doing the office of Homer's Muses, whom he invokes to tell him all that could not otherwise be known;
" 'TfieiQ yap Stot tare, Traptart Tt, tare re Travra."
Let the events, therefore, which are detailed, and the characters described, be never so natural, the way in which they are pre- sented to us is of a kind of supernatural cast, perfectly unlike any real history that ever was or can be written, and thus re- quiring a greater stretch of imagination in the reader. On the other hand, the supposed narrator of his own history never pre- tends to dive into the thoughts and feelings of the other parties ; he merely describes his own, and gives his conjectures as to those of the rest, just as a real autobiographer might do ; and thus an author is enabled to assimilate his fiction to reality, without withholding that delineation of the inward workings of the human heart, which is so much coveted. Nevertheless novels in the first person have not succeeded so well as to make that mode of writing become very general. It is objected to them, not without reason, that they want a hero : the person in- tended to occupy that post being the narrator himself, who of course cannot so describe his own conduct and character as to make the reader thoroughly acquainted with him ; though the attempt frequently produces an offensive appearance of egotism.
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The plan of a fictitious correspondence seems calculated in some measure to combine the advantages of the other two; since, by allowing each personage to be the speaker in turn, the feel- ings of each may be described by himself, and his character and conduct by another. But these novels are apt to become ex- cessively tedious; since, to give the letters the appearance of reality, (without which the main object proposed would be de- feated,) they must contain a very large proportion of matter which has no bearing at all upon the story. There is also generally a sort of awkward disjointed appearance in a novel which proceeds entirely in letters, and holds together, as it were, by continual splicing.
Miss Austin, though she has in a few places introduced let- ters with great effect, has on the whole conducted her novels on the ordinary plan, describing, without scruple, private con- versations, and uncommunicated feelings : but she has not been forgetful of the important maxim, so long ago illustrated by Homer, and afterwards enforced by Aristotle1, of saying as little as possible in her own person, and giving a dramatic air to the narrative, by introducing frequent conversations ; which she conducts with a regard to character hardly exceeded even by Shakspeare himself. Like him, she shows as admirable a discrimination in the characters of fools as of people of sense ; a merit which is far from common. To invent, indeed, a conversation full of wisdom or of wit, requires that the writer should himself possess ability ; but the converse does not hold good : it is no fool that can describe fools well ; and many who have succeeded pretty well in painting superior characters, have failed in giving individuality to those weaker ones, which it is necessary to introduce in order to give a faithful representation of real life. They exhibit to us mere folly in the abstract, forgetting that to the eye of a skilful naturalist the insects on a leaf present as wide differences as exist between the elephant and the lion. Slender, and Shallow, and Aguecheek,
1 edtv arj-Jec- Arist. Poet.
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as Shakspeare has painted them, though equally fools, resemble one another no more than Richard, and Macbeth, and Julius Csesar; and Miss Austin's Mrs. Bennet, Mr, Rushworth, and Miss Bates, are no more alike than her Darcy, Knightley, and Edmund Bertram. Some have complained, indeed, of finding her fools too much like nature, and consequently tiresome. There is no disputing about tastes ; all we can say is, that such critics must (whatever deference they may outwardly pay to received opinions) find the Merry Wives of Windsor and Twelfth Night very tiresome; and that those who look with pleasure at Wilkie's pictures, or those of the Dutch school, must admit that excellence of imitation may confer attraction on that which would be insipid or disagreeable in the reality.
Her minuteness of detail has also been found fault with ; but even where it produces, at the time, a degree of tediousness, we know not whether that can justly be reckoned a blemish, which is absolutely essential to a very high excellence. Now, it is absolutely impossible, without this, to produce that thorough acquaintance with the characters, which is necessary to make the reader heartily interested in them. Let any one cut out from the Iliad, or from Shakspeare's plays, every thing (we are far from saying that either might not lose some parts with advan- tage, but let him reject everything) which is absolutely devoid of importance and of interest in itself; and he will find that what is left will have lost more than half its charms. We are convinced that some writers have diminished the effect of their works by being scrupulous to admit nothing into them which had not some absolute, intrinsic, and independent merit. They have acted like those who strip off the leaves of the fruit tree, as being of themselves good for nothing, with the view of securing more nourishment to the fruit, which in fact cannot attain its full maturity and flavour without them.
Mansfield Park contains some of Miss Austin's best moral lessons, as well as her most humorous descriptions. The follow- ing specimen unites both : it is a sketch of the mode of education adopted for the two Miss Bertrams, by their aunt Norris, whose
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father, Sir Thomas, has just admitted into his family a poor niece, Fanny Price (the heroine), a little younger, and much less accomplished than his daughters.
" ' Dear Mamma, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe together — or my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in Russia — or she never heard of Asia Minor — or she does not know the difference between water-colors and crayons ! — How strange! — Did you ever hear any thing so stupid ? '
" ' My dear,' their considerate aunt would reply ; ' it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.'
" ' But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant ! — Do you know, we asked her last night, which way she would go to get to Ireland : and she said she should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of nothing but the Isle of Wight, and she calls it the Island, as if there were no other island in the world. I am sure I should have been ashamed of myself, if I had not known better long before I was so old as she is I cannot remember the time when I did not know a great deal that she has not the least notion of yet. How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the chronological order of the kings of England, with the dates of their accession, and most of the principal events of their reigns ! '
" 'Yes,' added the other; 'and of the Roman emperors as low as Severus ; besides a great deal of the Heathen Mythology, and all the Metals, Semi-Metals, Planets, and distinguished philosophers.'
" ' Very true indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonder- ful memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in every thing else, and therefore you must make allowance with your cousin, and pity her deficiency. And remember that, if you are ever so forward and clever yourselves, you should always be modest; for, much as you know already, there is a great deal more for you to learn.'
" ' Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell you another thing of Fanny, so odd, and so stupid. Do you know, she says she does not want to learn either music or drawing.'
" ' To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want of genius and emulation. But all things considered, I do not know whether it is not as well that it should be so, for, though you know (owing to me) your papa and mamma are so good as to bring her up with you, it is not at all necessary that she should be as accomplished as you are ; — on the contrary, it is much more desirable that there should be a difference.' " — p. 33.
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The character of Sir Thomas is admirably drawn ; one of those men who always judge rightly, and act wisely, when a case is fairly put before them ; but who are quite destitute of acute- ness of discernment and adroitness of conduct. The Miss Bertrams, without any peculiarly bad natural disposition, and merely with that selfishness, self-importance, and want of moral training, which are the natural result of their education, are conducted, by a train of probable circumstances, to a catastro- phe which involves their father in the deepest affliction. It is melancholy to reflect how many young ladies in the same sphere, with what is ordinarily called every advantage in point of edu- cation, are so precisely in the same situation, that if they avoid a similar fate, it must be rather from good luck than any thing else. The care that is taken to keep from them every thing in the shape of affliction, prevents their best feelings from being exercised ; and the pains bestowed on their accomplishments, raises their idea of their own consequence : the heart becomes hard, and is engrossed by vanity with all its concomitant vices. Mere moral and religious instruction are not adequate to correct all this. But it is a shame to give in our own language senti- ments which are so much better expressed by Miss Austin.
" Sir Thomas too late became aware how unfavourable to the character of any young people, must be the totally opposite treatment which Maria and Julia had been always experiencing at home, where the excessive indulgence and flattery of their aunt had been continually contrasted with his own severity. He saw how ill he had judged, in expecting to counteract what was wrong in Mrs. Norris, by its reverse in himself; clearly saw that he had but in- creased the evil, by teaching them so to repress their spirits in his presence, as to make their real disposition unknown to him, and sending them for all their indulgences to a person who had been able to attach them only by the blindness of her affection and the excess of her praise.
" Here had been grievous mismanagement ; but, bad as it was, he gradually grew to feel that it had not been the most direful mistake in his plan of education. Something must have been want- ing within, or time would have worn away much of its ill effect. He feared that principle, active principle, had been wanting, that
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they had never been properly taught to govern their inclinations and tempers, by that sense of duty which can alone suffice. They had been instructed theoretically in their religion, but never re- quired to bring it into daily practice. To be distinguished for elegance and accomplishments — the authorised object of their youth — could have had no useful influence that way, no moral effect on the mind. He had meant them to be good, but his cares had been directed to the understanding and manners, not the disposition ; and of the necessity of self-denial and humility, he feared they had never heard from any lips that could profit them.
" Bitterly did he deplore a deficiency which now he could scarcely comprehend to have been possible. Wretchedly did he feel, that with all the cost and care of an anxious and expensive education, he had brought up his daughters, without their under- standing their first duties, or his being acquainted with their cha- racter and temper." — vol. iii. pp. 330 — 332.
Edmund Bertram, the second son, a sensible and worthy young man, is captivated by a Miss Crawford, who, with her brother, is on a visit at the Parsonage with her half-sister, Mrs. Grant : the progress of his passion is very happily depicted :
" Miss Crawford's attractions did not lessen. The harp arrived, and rather added to her beauty, wit, and good -humour, for she played with the greatest obligingness, with an expression and taste which were peculiarly becoming, and there was something clever to be said at the close of every air. Edmund was at the parsonage every day to be indulged with his favourite instrument ; one morn- ing secured an invitation for the next, for the lady could not be unwilling to have a listener, and every thing was soon in a fair train.
"A young woman, pretty, lively, with a harp as elegant as herself ; and .both placed near a window, cut down to the ground, and opening on a little lawn, surrounded by shrubs in the rich foliage of summer, was enough to catch any man's heart. The season, the scene, the air, were all favourable to tenderness and sentiment." — vol. i. pp. 132, 133.
He is, however, put in doubt as to her character, by the occa- sional levity of her sentiments, and her aversion to his intended profession, the church, and to a retired life. Both she and her brother are very clever, agreeable, and good-humoured, and not without moral taste, (for Miss Austin does not deal in fiends and
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angels,) but brought up without strict principles, and desti- tute of real self-denying benevolence. The latter falls in love with Fanny Price, whom he had been originally intending to flirt with for his own amusement. She, however, objects to his principles; being not satisfied with religious belief and practice in herself, and careless about them in her husband. In this respect she presents a useful example to a good many modern females, whose apparent regard for religion in themselves, and indifference about it in their partners for life, make one some- times inclined to think that they hold the opposite extreme to the Turk's opinion, and believe men to have no souls. Her uncle, Sir Thomas, however, who sees nothing of her objection, is displeased at her refusal ; and thinking that she may not sufficiently prize the comforts of wealth to which she has been so long accustomed, without the aid of contrast, encourages her paying a visit to her father, a Captain Price, of the Marines, settled with a large family at Portsmouth. She goes, accom- panied by her favourite brother William, with all the fond recollections, and bright anticipations, of a visit after eight years' absence.
With a candour very rare in a novelist, Miss Austin de- scribes the remedy as producing its effect. After she has spent a month in the noise, privations, and vulgarities of home, Mr. Crawford pays her a visit of a couple of days ; after he was gone,
" Fanny was out of spirits all the rest of the day. Though tolerably secure of not seeing Mr. Crawford again, she could not help being low. It was parting with somebody of the nature of a friend ; and though in one light glad to have him gone, it seemed as if she was now deserted by everybody ; it was a sort of renewed separation from Mansfield ; and she could not think of his returning to town, and being frequently with Mary and Edmund, without feelings so near akin to envy, as made her hate herself for having them.
" Her dejection had no abatement from any thing passing around her ; a friend or two of her father's, as always happened if he was not with them, spent the long, long evening there ; and from six o'clock to half-past nine, there was little intermission of
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noise or grog. She was very low. The wonderful improvement which she still fancied in Mr. Crawford, was the nearest to admin- istering comfort of any thing within the current of her thoughts. Not considering in how different a circle she had been just seeing him, nor how much might be owing to contrast, she was quite persuaded of his being astonishingly more gentle, and regardful of others, than formerly. And if in little things, must it not be so in great ? So anxious for her health and comfort, so very feeling as he now expressed himself, and really seemed, might not it be fairly supposed, that he would not much longer persevere in a suit so distressing to her ? " — vol. iii. pp. 224, 225.
Fanny is, however, armed against Mr. Crawford by a stronger feeling than even her disapprobation ; by a vehement attachment to Edmund. The silence in which this passion is cherished — the slender hopes and enjoyments by which it is fed — the restlessness and jealousy with which it fills a mind naturally active, con- tented and unsuspicious — the manner in which it tinges every event and every reflection, are painted with a vividness and a detail of which we can scarcely conceive any one but a female, and we should almost add, a female writing from recollection, capable.
To say the truth, we suspect one of Miss Austin's great merits in our eyes to be, the insight she gives us into the pecu- liarities of female character. Authoresses can scarcely ever forget the esprit cle corps — can scarcely ever forget that they are authoresses. They seem to feel a sympathetic shudder at ex- posing naked a female mind. Mies se peignent en buste, and leave the mysteries of womanhood to be described by some in- terloping male, like Richardson or Marivaux, who is turned out before he has seen half the rites, and is forced to spin from his own conjectures the rest. Now from this fault Miss Austin is free. Her heroines are what one knows women must be, though one never can get them to acknowledge it. As liable to " fall in love first," as anxious to attract the attention of agreeable men, as much taken with a striking manner, or a handsome face, as unequally gifted with constancy and firmness, as liable to have their affections biassed by convenience or fashion, as
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we on on our part, will admit men to be. As some illustration of what we mean, we refer our readers to the conversation between Miss Crawford and Fanny, vol. iii. p. 102. Fanny's meeting with her father, p. 199, her reflections after reading Edmund's letter, 246, her happiness (good, and heroine though she be) in the midst of the misery of all her friends, when she finds that Edmund has decidedly broken with her rival ; feelings, all of them, which, under the influence of strong passion, must alloy the purest mind, but with which scarcely any authoress but Miss Austin would have ventured to temper the setherial materials of a heroine.
But we must proceed to the publication of which the title is prefixed to this Article. It contains, it seems, the earliest and the latest productions of the author ; the first of them having been purchased, we are told, many years back by a bookseller, who, for some reason unexplained, thought proper to alter his mind and withhold it. We do not much applaud his taste; for though it is decidedly inferior to her other works, having less plot, and what there is, less artificially wrought up, and also less exquisite nicety of moral painting ; yet the same kind of excellences which characterise the other novels may be perceived in thi3, in a degree which would have been highly creditable to most other writers of the same school, and which would have entitled the author to considerable praise, had she written nothing better.
We already begin to fear, that we have indulged too much in extracts, and we must save some room for Persuasion, or we could not resist giving a specimen of John Thorpe, with his horse that cannot go less than ten miles an hour, his refusal to drive his sister " because she has such thick ankles," and his sober con- sumption of five pints of port a day ; altogether the best por- trait of a species, which, though almost extinct, cannot yet be quite classed among the Palneotheria, the Bang-up Oxonian. Miss Thorpe, the jilt of middling life, is, in her way, quite as good, though she has not the advantage of being the repre- sentative of a rare or a diminishing species. We fear few of
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our readers, however much they may admire the naivete, will admit the truth of poor John Morland's postscript, "I can never expect to know such another woman."
The latter of these novels, however, Persuasion, which is more strictly to be considered as a posthumous work, possesses that superiority which might be expected from the more mature age at which it was written, and is second, we think, to none of the former ones, if not superior to all. In the humorous de- lineations of character it does not abound quite so much as some of the others, though it has great merit even on that score ; but it has more of that tender and yet elevated kind of interest which is aimed at by the generality of novels, and in pursuit of which they seldom fail of running into romantic extravagance. On the whole, it is one of the most elegant fictions of common life we ever remember to have met with.
Sir Walter Elliot, a silly and conceited baronet, has three daughters, the eldest two, unmarried, and the third, Mary, the wife of a neighbouring gentleman, Mr. Charles Musgrove, heir to a considerable fortune, and living in a genteel cottage in the neighbourhood* of the Great house which he is hereafter to in- herit. The second daughter, Anne, who is the heroine, and the only one of the family possessed of good sense, (a quality which Miss Austin is as sparing of in her novels, as we fear her great mistress, Nature, has been in real life,) when on a visit to her sister, is, by that sort of instinct which generally points out to all parties the person on whose judgment and temper they may rely, appealed to in all the little family differences which arise, and which are described with infinite spirit and detail.
The following touch reminds us, in its minute fidelity to nature, of some of the happiest strokes in the subordinate parts of Hogarth's prints : Mr. C. Musgrove has an aunt whom he wishes to treat with becoming attention, but who, from being of a somewhat inferior class in point of family and fashion, is studiously shunned by his wife, who has all the family pride of her father and eldest sister : he takes the opportunity of a walk with a large party on a fine day, to visit this despised relation,
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but cannot persuade his wife to accompany him ; she pleads fatigue, and remains with the rest to await his return ; and he walks home with her, not much pleased at the incivility she has shown.
" She (Anne Elliot) joined Charles and Mary, and was tired enough to be very glad of Charles's other arm; — but Charles, though in very good humour with her, was out of temper with his wife. Mary had shown herself disobliging to him, and was now to reap the consequence, which consequence was his dropping her arm almost every moment, to cut off the heads of some nettles in the hedge with his switch ; and when Mary began to complain of it, and lament her being ill-used, according to custom, in being on the hedge side, while Anne was never incommoded on the other, he dropped the arms of both to hunt after a weasel which he had a momentary glance of; and they could hardly get him along at all."— vol. iii. pp. 211, 212.
But the principal interest arises from a combination of events which cannot be better explained than by a part of the pre- fatory narrative, which forms, in general, an Euripidean pro- logue to Miss Austin's novels.
" He was not Mr. Wentworth, the former curate of Monkford, however suspicious appearances may be, but a Captain Frederick Wentworth, his brother, who being made commander in conse- quence of the action off St. Domingo, and not immediately employed, had come into Somersetshire, in the summer of 1806 ; and having no parent living, found a home for half a year, at Monkford. He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a good deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy ; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough ; for he had nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love ; but the encounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail. They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest per- fection in the other, or which had been the happiest ; she in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted.
" A short period of exquisite felicity followed, and but a short one. Troubles soon arose. Sir Walter, on being applied to, with- out actually withholding his consent, or saying it should never be,
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gave it all the negative of great astonishment, great coldness, great silence, and a professed resolution of doing nothing for his daughter . He thought it a very degrading alliance ; and Lady Russell, though with more tempered and pardonable pride, received it as a most unfortunate one.
"Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, to throw herself away at nineteen ; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connexions to secure even his further rise in that profession ; would be, indeed, a throw- ing away, which she grieved to think of! Anne Elliot, so young ; known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or fortune ; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence ! It must not be, if by any fair interference of friendship, any representations from one who had almost a mother's love, and mother's rights, it could be prevented.
" Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession, but spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing. But, he was confident that he should soon be rich ; full of life and ardour, he knew that he should soon have a ship, and soon be on a station that would lead to every thing he wanted. He had always been lucky ; he knew he should be so still. Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and be- witching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been enough for Anne ; but Lady Russell saw it very differently. His sanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. It only added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he wa3 headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit ; and of any thing approaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated the connexion in every light.
" Such opposition, as these feelings produced, was more than Anne could combat. Young and gentle as she was, it might yet have been possible to withstand her father's ill-will, though un- softened by one kind word or look on the part of her sister ; but Lady Russell, whom she had always loved and relied on, could not, with such steadiness of opinion, and such tenderness of manner, be continually advising her in vain. She was persuaded to be- lieve the engagement a wrong thing— indiscreet, improper, hardly capable of success, and not deserving it. But it was not a merely selfish caution, under which she acted, in putting an end to it. Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than W. E. X
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her own, she could hardly have given him up. The helief of being prudent, and self-denying principally for his advantage, was her chief consolation, under the misery of a parting — a final parting ; and every consolation was required, for she had to encounter all the additional pain of opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and un- bending, and of his feeling himself ill-used by so forced a relin- quishment. He had left the country in consequence.
" A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance ; but, not with a few months ended Anne's share of suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of youth ; and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect.
" More than seven years were gone since this little history of 6orrowful interest had reached its close ; and time had softened down much, perhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, — but she had been too dependent on time alone ; no aid had been given in change of place, (except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture,) or in any novelty or enlargement of society. No one had ever come within the Kellynch circle, who could bear a comparison with Frederick Wentworth, as he stood in her memory. No second attachment, the only thoroughly natural, happy, and sufficient cure, at her time of life, had been possible to the nice tone of her mind, the fastidiousness of her taste, in the small limits of the society around them. She had been solicited, when about two-and-twenty, to change her name, by the young man, who not long afterwards found a more willing mind in her younger sister ; and Lady Russell had lamented her refusal ; for Charles Musgrovo was the eldest son of a man, whose landed property and general importance were second, in that country, only to Sir Walter's, and of good character and appearance ; and however Lady Russell might have asked yet for something more, while Anne was nineteen, she would have rejoiced to see her at twenty-two, so respectably removed from the partialities and injustice of her father's house, and settled so permanently near herself. But in this case, Anne had left nothing for advice to do ; and though Lady Russell, as satisfied as ever with her own discretion, never wished the past undone, she began now to have the anxiety, which borders on hopelessness, for Anne's being tempted, by some man of talents and independence, to enter a state for which she held her to be peculiarly fitted by her warm affections and domestic habits.
" They knew not each other's opinion, either its constancy or its change, on the one leading point of Anne's conduct, for the subject was never alluded to, — but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought
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very differently from what she had been made to think at nineteen. — She did not blame Lady Russell, she did not blame herself for having been guided by her ; but she felt that were any young person, in similar circumstances, to apply to her for counsel, they would never receive any of such certain immediate wretchedness, such uncertain future good. — She was persuaded that, under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every anxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and disappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it; and this, she fully believed, had the usual share, had even more than a usual share of all such solicitudes and suspense been theirs, without reference to the actual results of their case, which, as it happened, would have bestowed earlier prosperity than could be reasonably calculated on. All his sanguine expectations, all his confidence, had been justified. His genius and ardour had seemed to foresee and to command his prosperous path. He had, very soon after their engagement ceased, got employ ; and all that he had told her would follow, had taken place. He had distinguished himself, and early gained the other step in rank — and must now, by successive captures, have made a handsome fortune. She had only navy lists and newspapers for her authority, but she could not doubt his being rich ; — and, in favour of his constancy, she had no reason to believe him married.
" How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been, — how eloquent, at least, were her wishes, on the side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems to insult exertion and distrust Providence ! — She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older — the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning." — vol. iii. pp. 57—67.
After an absence of eight years, he returns to her neigh- bourhood, and circumstances throw them frequently in contact. Nothing can be more exquisitely painted than her feelings on such occasions. First, dread of the meeting, — then, as that is removed by custom, renewed regret for the happiness she has thrown away, and the constantly recurring contrast, though known only to herself, between the distance of their intercourse and her involuntary sympathy with all his feelings, and instant comprehension of all his thoughts, of the meaning of every
x3
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glance of his eye, and curl of his lip, and intonation of his voice. In him her mild good sense and elegance gradually re-awake long-forgotten attachment : but with it return the usual accompaniments of undeclared love, distrust of her senti- ments towards him, and suspicions of their being favourable to another. In this state of regretful jealousy he overhears, while writing a letter, a conversation she is holding with his friend Captain Harville, respecting another naval friend, Captain Benwick, who had been engaged to the sister of the former, and very speedily after her death had formed a fresh engage- ment : we cannot refrain from inserting an extract from this conversation, which is exquisitely beautiful.
" ' Your feelings may be the strongest,' replied Anne, ' but the same spirit of analogy will authorise me to assert that ours are the most tender. Man is more robust than woman, but he is not longer-lived ; which exactly explains my view of the nature of their attachments. Nay, it would be too hard upon you, if it were otherwise. You have difficulties, and privations, and dangers enough to struggle with. You are always labouring and toiling, exposed to every risk and hardship. Your home, country, friends, all quitted. Neither time, nor health, nor life, to be called your own. It would be too hard indeed' (with a faltering voice) 'if woman's feelings were to be added to all this.'
" ' We shall never agree upon this question' — Captain Harville was beginning to say, when a slight noise called their attention to Captain Wentworth's hitherto perfectly quiet division of the room. It was nothing more than that his pen had fallen down, but Anne was startled at finding him nearer than she had supposed, and half inclined to suspect that the pen had only fallen, because he had been occupied by them, striving to catch sounds, which yet she did not think he could have caught.
" ' Have you finished your letter?' said Captain Harville. 'Not quite, a few lines more. I shall have done in five minutes.'
" ' There is no hurry on my side. I am only ready whenever you are. — I am in very good anchorage here,' (smiling at Anne) ' well supplied, and want for nothing. — No hurry for a signal at all. — Well, Miss Elliot,' (lowering his voice) 'as I was saying, we shall ^ never agree I suppose upon this point. No man and woman would, probably. But let me observe that all histories are against you, all stories, prose and verse. If I
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had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty quotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all writ- ten by men.'
" ' Perbaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to ex- amples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree : the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove any thing.'
" ' But how shall we prove any thing ? r
" ' We never shall. We never can expect to prove any thing upon such a point. It is a difference of opinion which does not ad- mit of proof. We each begin probably with a little bias towards our own sex, and upon that bias build every circumstance in favour of it which has occurred within our own circle ; many of which cir- cumstances (perhaps those very cases which strike us the most) may be precisely such as cannot be brought forward without betray- ing a confidence, or in some respects saying what should not be said.'
" ' Ah !' cried Captain Karville, in a tone of strong feeling, ' if I could but make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes a last look at his wife and children, and watches the boat that he has sent them off in, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away and says, ' God knows whether we ever meet again !' And then, if I could convey to you the glow of his soul when he does see them again ; when, coming back after a twelvemonth's absence perhaps, and obliged to put into another port, he calculates how soon it will be possible to get them there, pretending to- deceive himself, and saying, ' They cannot be here till such a day,' but all the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them arrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours sooner still I If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man can bear and do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of his existence f I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!' pressing his own with emotion.
" ' Oh !' cried Anne eagerly, ' I hope I do justice to all that is felt by you, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my fellow-creatures. I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to suppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by woman. No, I believe you capable of every thing great and good
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in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as — if I may be allowed the expression, so long as you have an object. I mean, while the woman you love lives, and lives for you. All the pri- vilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one, you need not covet it) is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.'
" She could not immediately have uttered another sentence ; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed." — vol. iv. pp. 263 —269.
While this conversation has been going on, he has been replying to it on paper, under the appearance of finishing his letter : he puts the paper into her hand, and hurries away.
" ' I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late ; that such precious feelings ai'e gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never incon- stant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For yo\i alone I think and plan. — Have you not seen this ? Can you fail to have understood my wishes ? — I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice, when they would be lost on others. — Too good, too excellent creature ! You do us justice indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in
' f. \\: "
We ventured, in a former Article, to remonstrate against the dethronement of the once powerful God of Love, in his own most especial domain, the novel ; and to suggest that, in shun- ning the ordinary fault of recommending by examples a romantic and uncalculating extravagance of passion, Miss Austin had rather fallen into the opposite extreme of exclusively patronizing what are called prudent matches, and too much disparaging
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sentimental enthusiasm. We urged, that, mischievous as is the extreme on this side, it is not the one into which the young folks of the present day are the most likely to run : the pre- vailing fault is not now, whatever it may have been, to sacrifice all for love :
" Venit enim magnum donandi parca juventus, Nee tantum Veneris quantum studiosa culinse.''
We may now, without retracting our opinion, bestow un- qualified approbation ; for the distresses of the present heroine all arise from her prudent refusal to listen to the suggestions of her heart. The catastrophe however is happy, and we are left in doubt whether it would have been better for her or not, to accept the first proposal ; and this we conceive is precisely the proper medium ; for, though we would not have prudential calculations the sole principle to be regarded in marriage, we are far from advocating their exclusion. To disregard the advice of sober-minded friends on an important point of conduct, is an im- prudence we would by no means recommend ; indeed, it is a spe- cies of selfishness, if, in listening only to the dictates of passion, a man sacrifices to its gratification the happiness of those most dear to him as well as his own ; though it is not now-a-days the most prevalent form of selfishness. But it is no condemnation of a sentiment to say, that it becomes blameable when it interferes with duty, and is uncontrouled by conscience : the desire of riches, power, or distinction, — the taste for ease and comfort, — are to be condemned when they transgress these bounds ; and love, if it keep within them, even though it be somewhat tinged with enthusiasm, and a little at variance with what the worldly call prudence, i.e. regard for pecuniary advantage, may afford a better moral discipline to the mind than most other passions. It will not at least be denied, that it has often proved a power- ful stimulus to exertion where others have failed, and has called forth talents unknown before even to the possessor. What, though the pursuit may be fruitless, and the hopes visionary ? The result may be a real and substantial benefit, though of
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another kind ; the vineyard may have been cultivated by digging in it for the treasure which is never to be found. What, though the perfections with which imagination has decorated the be- loved object, may, in fact, exist but in a slender degree? still they are believed in and admired as real ; if not, the love is such as does not merit the name ; and it is proverbially true that men become assimilated to the character (i.e. what they think the character) of the Being they fervently adore : thus, as in the noblest exhibitions of the stage, though that which is contemplated be but a fiction, it may be realized in the mind of the beholder ; and, though grasping at a cloud, he may become worthy of possessing a real goddess. Many a generous senti- ment, and many a virtuous resolution, have been called forth and matured by admiration of one, who may herself perhaps have been incapable of either. It matters not what the object is that a man aspires to be worthy of, and proposes as a model for imitation, if he does but lelieve it to be excellent. More- over, all doubts of success (and they are seldom, if ever, entirely wanting) must either produce or exercise humility ; and the endeavour to study another's interests and inclinations, and prefer them to one's own, may promote a habit of general benevolence which may outlast the present occasion. Every thing, in short, which tends to abstract a man in any degree, or in any way, from self, — from self-admiration and self-interest, has, so far at least, a beneficial influence in forming the cha- racter.
On the whole, Miss Austin's works may safely be recom- mended, not only as among the most unexceptionable of their class, but as combining, in an eminent degree, instruction with amusement, though without the direct effort at the former, of which we have complained, as sometimes defeating its object. For those who cannot, or will not, learn any thing from produc- tions of this kind, she has provided entertainment which entitles her to thanks ; for mere innocent amusement is in itself a good, when it interferes with no greater ; especially as it may occupy the place of some other that may not be innocent. The Eastern
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monarch who proclaimed a reward to him who should discover a new pleasure, would have deserved well of mankind had he stipulated that it should be blameless. Those, again, who delight in the study of human nature, may improve in the knowledge of it, and in the profitable application of that know- ledge, by the perusal of such fictions as those before us.
IV.
THE JUVENILE LIBRARY.
1. Scenes of British Wealth, in Produce, Manufactures, and Commerce, for the Amusement and Instruction of little Tarry- at-Home Travellers. By the Rev. I. Taylor, Author of " Scenes in England, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America." 2d Edit. 1825.
2. Grecian Stories. By Maria Hack. 2d Edit. 1828.
3. Familiar Illustrations of the Principal Evidences and Design of Christianity. By Maria Hack. 1824.
4. Conversations on the Life of Jesus Christ ; for the Use of Children. By a Mother. 1828.
Of the many great and wonderful changes which the present generation has witnessed, in almost every department of life, literature, including under that term all the productions of the press, has of course had its share; and in no description of books, we conceive, has a greater alteration taken place, than in those designed for the instruction and entertainment of children, in what is popularly termed the Juvenile Library. The change in the character of these books has been accompanied, perhaps in a great measure produced, by a change in the general estimate of their importance. To most of our readers accordingly, no apology, we imagine, is needed for inviting their attention to a subject which, a century back, would probably have been thought beneath the dignity of grave criticism. Few persons in the present day would admit, as our forefathers seem practi- cally to have done, that any thing is good enough for children to read, provided it be not of a directly immoral tendency ; or that grammars, and other school-books, as they are called, are alone worthy of serious attention ; while books of amusement for chil- dren are a matter of as much indifference, as it is, whether they
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divert themselves with tops or with hoops. The precept of the poet, that maxima debetur pueris reverentia, — that in the seed- time of life it is of especial importance to have the land clean and well dressed, — seems to be every day better understood. No one, indeed, can ever have been ignorant, that the children of this generation are the next generation itself; — that they are the " to-morrow" of society. But it has hardly been sufficiently considered, how much more important, because more permanent, are the impressions, of whatever kind, which are made during the season of intellectual and moral growth ; even as the body may be deformed or crippled for life, by some comparatively slight hurt in infancy. And still less have men in general con- sidered the readiness to receive impressions which we have in early life. It is a great mistake, often made in practice, if not in theory, to suppose that a child's character, intellectual and moral, is formed by those books only which we put into his hands with that design. " Many things grow in the garden," says the homely but true proverb, " which were never sown there," When the principles are settled indeed, either for good or for evil, — when the character of the man is matured, he may often be occupied and interested for the time, in reading some- thing which leaves no lasting impression ; but hardly any thing can accidentally touch the soft clay, without stamping its mark on it. Hardly any reading can interest a child, without contri- buting in some degree, though the book itself be afterwards totally forgotten, to form the character1 ; and the parents, there- fore, who, merely requiring from him a certain course of study, pay little or no attention to " story-books," are educating him they know not how.
The contrast which children's books now present, to those which were thumbed by our fathers and ourselves, is more pal- pably striking, perhaps, in the comparatively unimportant point of typographical decoration. The plates, in particular, which
1 In many cases, we suspect, the democratical leaning communicated by Sandford and Merton might be traced through life.
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are now to be seen in most of the books designed for children, are often very beautiful specimens of art. This improvement is, no doubt, in a great degree attributable to the introduction of engravings from steel, which, when the sale is great, can be furnished, on account of the durable quality of the material, at a low rate, even from the designs of eminent artists ; and some- thing also is to be attributed to the improved state of the art of engraving ; which appears, not so much in the superior excel- lence of the best artists, as in the increased number of respect- able ones. But, on the whole, the appearance of children's books in general, in respect of paper, typography, and plates, con- trasted with what satisfied our predecessors, is such as to indi- cate both a great and a liberal demand for such books, as well as an improvement in national taste : and one which is likely to cultivate that taste, by fostering a turn for drawing.
By far the most important difference, however, is the more fre- quent and skilful interweaving, both of scientific, and of moral and religious instruction, with amusement, in the tales, dialogues, &c, designed for children. It used to be generally thought sufficient to teach children their catechism, together with certain collects and psalms ; trusting to this alone, or principally, for the inculca- tion of right principles and sentiments ; and leaving them to find amusement in books, for the most part unmeaning or unpro- fitable. Now we are far from advocating the system of putting forward, very prominently, " the moral," in every work of fiction ; especially such as are designed for the entertainment of adults. Men are apt to be disgusted, more than profited, by a " dramatic or narrative sermon." But it has been always admitted, that works of fiction may be made conducive to higher purposes than mere amusement ; and they are worse than unprofitable, if they uniformly and totally exclude all reference to christian princi- ples, and never display their application, or at least applicability, to the affairs of common life ; if they represent every charac- ter, the good as well as the bad, as acting from the impulse of better or worse feelings alone, and never trace their goodness or badness to the operation, or the want of christian principle.
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For the prevailing error of those who do not reject religion altogether, is to regard it, practically, as a theory, to be studied in the closet, and publicly acknowledged in the church, and attended to on Sundays, but (according to the notion of Parson Adams's wife) not to be profaned by any association with the week-day transactions of life1. And children are even more liable to this error than grown persons, because they are less capable of abstraction ; less qualified, therefore, for applying the system of general principles — the theory — they may have learned, to particular cases of practice, if they are not accus- tomed to see these principles exemplified. And, it should be added, that as they have the greater need of this help, so they can also better tolerate it ; as they require to have general prin- ciples illustrated by application to particular cases of conduct, so they can endure and relish a more distinctly moral tale, than would be acceptable to adults ; whose very censure indeed of such a work, by the epithet " puerile," seems to confirm what has been just said.
Selected stories out of scripture, put into language better accommodated to children than that of an exact translation2, seem to have been, till very lately, almost the only attempt to give a pleasing interest to useful instruction, and a profitable character to amusement ; and even of these we find no trace (or hardly any) before the time of Mrs. Trimmer.
1 " There is an extreme reluctance amongst many who are very zealous sup- porters of the outward establishment of Christianity, to admitting its principles in the concerns of common life, in mat- ters belonging to their own trade or pro- fession ; or, above all, in the conduct of national affairs. They will not tolerate its spirit in their every day practice, but ridicule it as visionary and impractica- ble. Now, if the language of sermons be vague and general ; if it do not apply clearly and directly to our own times, our own ways of life, and habits of
practice safe out of the reach of its in- fluence, they deceive themselves by their willingness to hear it, and by their ac- quiescence, and even their delight in it." — Preface to Dr. Arnold's Sermons.
2 " Even with regard to the scripture itself, it is surely the spirit of it, and not the language, which is of eternal appli- cation and efficacy ; and that spirit will generally be most effectually conveyed in our writings, through a medium different from that which was originally chosen ; because we and the first converts to Christianity are so different in climate,
thought and action, men elude its hold in national customs and feelings ; in our upon their consciences with a wonderful ; trains of thought and modes of expres- dextcrity ; and keeping their common > sion." — Preface to Dr. Arnold's Sermons.
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It must, we think, be admitted by all who are convinced of the truth and of the importance of our religion, that an early familiarity with the facts connected with it, conveyed either in the words of scripture itself, or in some others, is of the highest consequence. Christianity is an historical religion : it derives not only its evidence, but its doctrines also, not from philoso- phical speculations, but from certain events alleged to have taken place. And moreover s
"As children," (says one of the best writers [Mrs. Hoare] on education which this or any age has produced,) " are little capable of receiving abstract ideas, it is probable that they will not derive much benefit from being instructed in doctrines separate from facts. — By facts, we may convey a strong and simple view of the most important truths of Christianity. If, for example, we can represent in lively colours to their imaginations, the beautiful history of our Lord calming the storm when ' the waves beat into the ship,' and his voice was ' mightier than the noise of many waters,' they will imbibe a stronger and more practical sense of his almighty power, than could have been imparted to them by any bare statement of his divinity. We shall also best be able to impress upon their minds his infinite mercy and compassion towards us, by reading or relating to them, so as to realize the transactions, and interest the feelings, such narratives as those of our Lord's taking the infants in his arms, and blessing them ; of his raising the widow's son, of his healing the lunatic child ; and, lastly, of his suffering and dying for our sakes, that we might be made the heirs of eternal life." — Hints on Early Education.
But, besides this historical knowledge of religion, and incul- cation of general moral precepts, it is essential to right education that children should be familiarized with the application, in biography or in fiction, of religious and moral principles, to the ordinary conduct either of children, or of persons with whose feelings and situations children can sympathize.
And this view seems of late to have been so generally ad- mitted, as to have given rise to a number of (better or worse executed) attempts, to embody in works calculated to amuse children, more or less, not only of scientific, but also of moral and religious instruction. Not, of course, that there are not
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still in use many books -which have no such object ; but many of our readers must well remember, that in their younger days, Whittington and his Cat, Jack the Giant-killer, and other tales of the same stamp, were in the hands of older children than now, and constituted a much larger proportion of the youthful library.
No system can be without its own specific evils and dangers ; but, on the whole, we consider that change which in this depart- ment characterizes the present day, as a decided improvement. We say, on the whole, because we are sensible that it is only with some important limitations and modifications that the assertion can be maintained.
In the first place, if children are allowed to be familiar with moral and religious feelings and conduct, in works of fiction, and no where else, books of this description will do more harm than good, or at the best will be wholly unprofitable. Virtue and piety will by this means become associated in their minds with fable; and they will thus be led into that fallacy to which human nature is always prone, especially in all that relates to the conscientious regulation of our conduct, that of regarding any system as " true in theory, but unfit for practice ;" as if the falsity, or at least imperfection, of any theory, were not at once demonstrated by an experimental failure. We remember a stu- dent of mathematics, after having gone through and seemingly understood Euclid's proof, that the squares of the sides con- taining a right angle are equal to the square of the side subtending it, remarking, to the astonishment and dismay of his teacher, "but it is not really so, is it Sir?" Many who would laugh at this query, might yet be found assenting to all the reasoning on which some political or other measure should be maintained, and then coolly remarking that it is practically false, though theoretically true : or, themselves maintaining some principles of moral conduct, which yet they consider them- selves as not bound to exemplify in their own practice, though they may be very suitable to a moral tale. And in proportion as men are accustomed (much more, children) to contemplate
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and admire virtue, without being taught, by example or other- wise, that they are expected to realize the picture, they will become the less fitted for the actual performance of their duties.
" Going over the theory of virtue," says Bishop Butler, " in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it ; this is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insen- sible ; i.e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral obligations. For from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less sensibly ; being accustomed to danger begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear ; to distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of other's mortality, lessens the sensible apprehension of our own." And such a mode of educa- tion deceives the parent as well as the child. A false security is engendered in the mind : they think that they have provided a good moral and religious training, when they have not ; when they have only informed the understanding by imparting a knowledge of good principles, without affording discipline to the heart by teaching the application of them : a procedure which resembles an attempt to teach a child a language by merely learning grammar rules, without parsing, construing, and com- posing.
With rer-pect to the books employed, that care is requisite in the choice of them is too obvious to be insisted on. But we must not omit to notice a mistake into which some of the best intentioned writers have fallen, in their zeal to impart to children religious principles. They have sometimes introduced a reference to these principles in connexion with matters too trifling and undignified ; forgetting the maxim, whose notorious truth has made it proverbial, that excessive familiarity breeds contempt. We have already entered our protest against the notion, that religious principles are to be kept in reserve for rare and great occasions, and excluded from the every -day affairs of life; nulla enim vitce pars —vacare officio potest ? but still every one must
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admit, that there are occasions on which the introduction of religious motives would not be (at least to a mind not yet possessing a full-formed and deep-rooted religious habit,) attended with any benefit which would compensate for the risk, to a tender and growing character, of impairing, by mean associations, the reverence due to the highest subjects.
It may be replied, however, that according to this rule no re- ference of religion to practice — to such practice, i. e. as children are themselves concerned in, can ever be presented to their minds ; because in what are considered as the weightier affairs of life, they are not engaged : all that commands or can com- mand their attentive sympathy, must be what, to us, are trifles. So that if religion is to be kept apart from these, it cannot be exhibited to them at all in a practical point of view.
All this we admit ; and we admit also that the more prevailing tendency is towards the contrary extreme to that against which our caution was directed ; towards the extreme of avoiding too much the practical resort to the highest principles in ordinary life ; — towards the preservation of a due reverence for religion, at the expense of its useful application in conduct. But a line may be drawn which will keep clear of both extremes. We should not exclude, in books designed for children, the association of things sacred with whatever are to ourselves trifling matters, (for " these little things are great" to them,) but, with whatever is viewed by them as trifling. Every thing is great or small in reference to the parties concerned. The private concerns of any obscure individual are very insignificant to the world at large ; but they are of great importance to himself. And all worldly affairs must be small in the sight of the Most High ; but irreve- rent familiarity is engendered in the mind of any one, then, and then only, when things sacred are associated with such as are, to him, insignificant trifles.
And here an important distinction presents itself, between religious and moral truths on the one hand, and those of science on the other, which are also frequently conveyed to youthful minds through the medium of amusing tales and dialogues. A
W. E. Y
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child cannot be made too familiar with arithmetic or geography, with botany or mechanics. Even ludicrous associations will here frequently have their use, on account of the superior hold which, (according to the observation of the poet',) they are frequently found to have on the memory : and if the truths of any science are but understood and remembered, that is all we want. Even if the youth should seldom or never have occasion to make any practical application of his knowledge till long after, it is not of the less value to have it familiarized to the mind and ready for use when wanted. Not so with religion and morality : they are to be taught not as mere sciences, but as practical habits: and not only is the utility of good princi- ples, considered in this point of view, destroyed by degrading associations, but also, even if that evil be avoided, a familiar knowledge of these principles if disjoined from practice, is so far from being of any advantage, that, according to the obser- vation of Bishop Butler already cited, it is even detrimental to the moral character.
Another caution which we would suggest relative to the choice of books, is to avoid presenting to the minds of children anything too abstruse and mystical to be in any degree embraced by their understandings, or to interest their feelings ; lest an association, perhaps indelible, be formed in the tender mind between the idea of religion, and that of the dry, the abstruse, the unintelligible, and the purely speculative.
We do not of course mean to countenance the error of those who advocate the omission, in works designed for children, (and indeed for the great mass of the people,) of every thing in Chris- tianity which is peculiar to it, — in short of all that they call " doctrinal" points, retaining only moral precepts ; on the ground that children and the vulgar cannot comprehend " mysteries." There is indeed much that is mysterious (in the modern2 sense of the word, i. e. unexplained, and probably inexplicable to Man)
1 "Discit enim citius meminitque libentius illud
Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur." — IIorat. 2 Not in the ancient sense. See the Article Mvarfipiov in Parkhurst's Lexicon.
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connected with the most important doctrines of Christianity ; but if we were, on that ground, to keep back all such doc- trines from children, as if those doctrines themselves were there- fore unintelligible to them, we should be waiting for a period which can never arrive in this world ; since of things beyond the reach of human faculties the wisest man can understand no more than a child. We are persuaded that most of the leading truths of Christianity can be not only in a great degree compre- hended, but comprehended in their practical import, by persons much below maturity of age ; though a perfect comprehension of them is unattainable by Man : and of truths purely specula- tive, having no practical import, we believe that few or none are revealed. We would have children gradually instructed first, in the facts on which our religion rests ; and, through the me- dium of these, in christian doctrines, as far as, and in propor- tion as, they become capable of embracing them, and of forming a notion of their practical utility. And we cannot but think that in proportion as this mode of education is pursued, the remnants of scholastic divinity which still, to- a considerable de- gree, linger amongst protestants, would gradually wear out ; the Scriptures would be searched, not for (what they do not contain) a system of theological philosophy, — a set of specula- tive dogmas relative to the intrinsic nature of the Deity, — but for religion properly so called, i.e. a practical knowledge of the relations between God and Man ; and the cultivation of active religious principles would take the place of a barren veneration for things sacred.
We are glad to be able again to appeal to the judgment of the deservedly popular author before cited.
" It is of great importance that all religious instruction be given to children with reference to practice. If they are taught that God is their Creator and Preserver, it is that they may obey, love, and adore Him ; if, that Christ is their Almighty Saviour, it is that they may love Him, give themselves up to Him, and trust in Him alone for forgiveness and salvation. If, that the Holy Spirit is the - Lord and Giver of life,' it is that they should beware of grieving that secret guide, which will lead them out of evil, will enable them to bring
t3
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forth the fruits of righteousness, and prepare them for a state of blessedness hereafter. The omnipresence of God should, also, be strongly and practically impressed upon the mind in early life, not only as a truth peculiarly calculated to influence the conduct, but, as a continual source of consolation and support in trouble and danger.
" It is to be remembered, that religious instruction is not to be forced upon children : wisdom is required in communicating it to them, that we may give them ' food convenient ' for them, nourishing them, not with strong meat, bat with the ' sincere milk of the Word,' that they may grow thereby ; making the best use of the natural and gradual opening of their understandings : and we may ac- knowledge, with thankfulness, that there is something in the human mind which answers to the most simple and sacred truths : — the mind of man seems formed to receive the idea of Him who gave it being. A premature accuracy of religious knowledge is not to be desired with children : but that the views of divine truth which they receive, should be sound and scriptural, and so commu- nicated as to touch the conscience." — Hints on Early Education, pp. 151—153.
It need hardly be observed how important it is, with a view to these objects, to abstain carefully from the practice, still too prevalent, though much less so, we believe, than formerly, of com- pelling, or encouraging, or even allowing children to learn by rote forms of prayer, catechism, hymns, or in short any thing connected with morality and religion, when they attach no mean- ing to the words they utter. It is done on the plea that they will hereafter learn the meaning of what they have been thus taught, and will be able to make a practical use of it. But no attempt at economy of time can be more injudicious. Let any child whose capacity is so far matured as to enable him to com- prehend an explanation, e.g. of the Lord's Prayer, have it then put before him for the first time, and when he is made acquaint- ed with the meaning of it, set to learn it by heart ; and can any one doubt that in less than half a day's application he would be able to repeat it fluently ? And the same would be the case with other forms. All that is thus learned by rote by a child before he is competent to attach a meaning to the words he utters, would not, if all put together, amount to so much as would cost him
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when able to understand it, a week's labour to learn perfectly. Whereas it may cost the toil, often the vain toil, of many years, to unlearn the habit of formalism — of repeating words by rote without attending to their meaning ; a habit which every one conversant with education knows to be in all subjects most rea- dily acquired by children, and with difficulty avoided even with the utmost care of the teacher ; but which such a plan must in- evitably tend to generate. It is often said, and very truly, that it is important to form early habits of piety ; but to train a child in one kind of habit, is not the most likely way of forming the opposite one : and nothing can be more contrary to true piety, than the Popish superstition (for such in fact it is) of attaching efficacy to the repetition of a certain form of words, as of a charm, independent of the understanding and of the heart1.
It is also said, with equal truth, that we ought to take advan- tage of the facility which children possess of learning words : but to infer from thence, that Providence designs us to make such a use (or rather abuse) of this gift, as we have been cen- suring, is as if we were to take advantage of the readiness with
1 We have spoken with so much com- mendation of the Hints on Early Edu- cation, that we feel bound to notice in- cidentally a point in which we think the author, if not herself mistaken, is likely to lead her readers into a mistake. — "Public Worship — Silence, self sub- jection, and a serious deportment, both in family and public worship, ought to be strictly enforced in early life ; and it is better that children should not attend, till they are capable o'' behaving in a proper manner. But a practical respect for the Sabbath and for services of reli- gion, is but an effect of that reverence for every thing sacred, which it is of pri- mary importance early to establish as a habit of mind." — pp 172,173. If '• re- verence for things sacred " be the only habit we wish to implant, the caution here given is sufficient : but if we would form in the child the much more impor- tant habit of hearty devotion, as distin- guished from superstitious formalism, we
should wait for his being not only " capa- ble of behaving," with outward decorum, but also of understanding and joining in the service.
We would also deprecate, by the way, the practice (which this writer seems to countenance, though without any express inculcation) of strictly prohibiting chil- dren from indulging in their usual sports on the Lord's day ; which has a manifest tendency to associate with that festival, idea3 of gloom and restraint, and also to generate the too common notion that God requires of us only one day in seven, and that scrupulous privation on that day will afford licence for the rest of the week. We are speaking, be it observed, of the christian festival of the Lord's day ; those who think themselves bound by the precepts of the Old Testament re- lative to the Sabbath, should remember that Saturday is the day to which tnose precepts apply.
326 JUVENILE LIBRARY.
which a new-born babe swallows whatever is put into its mouth, to dose it with ardent spirits, instead of wholesome food and ne- cessary medicine. The readiness with which children learn and remember words, is in truth a most important advantage if rightly employed; viz., if applied to the acquiring that mass of what may be called arbitrary knowledge of insulated facts, which can only be learned by rote, and which is necessary in after-life; when the acquisition of it would both be more troublesome, and would encroach on time that might otherwise be better em- ployed. Chronology, names of countries, weights and measures, and indeed all the words of any language, are of this descrip- tion. If a child had even ten times the ordinary degree of the faculty in question, a judicious teacher would find abundance of useful employment for it, without resorting to any that could possibly be detrimental to his future habits, moral, religious, or intellectual.
Among the cautions to be exercised in the choice of books for children, there is one which is pressed upon our notice by the character which pervades the works of one of the best known, and in other respects most judicious writers in this de- partment : we mean, to keep a watchful eye at least over those which inculcate morality, with an exclusion of all reference to religious principle. Such is obviously and notoriously the character of Miss Edgeworth's moral tales. It is not merely that they contain no lessons of piety, no distinct inculcation of reli- gious doctrine ; but there is in them a complete, and, as it should seem, studied avoidance of the whole subject.
The most amiable, nay, the most noble and generous charac- ters are represented, — the most pure and virtuous actions are narrated, — without the least allusion to religious principle as having any thing to do with them. And so entire and resolute is this exclusion, that it is maintained at the expense of what may be called poetical truth : it destroys in many instances the probability of the tale, and the naturalness of the characters. We are not now occupied with the question whether Christianity is true or false ; and certainly, we cannot in fairness call on any
JUVENILE LIBRARY. 327
one to inculcate and recommend any thing different from what he himself believes1. But that Christianity does exist, every one must believe as an incontrovertible truth ; nor can any one, we conceive, deny, that, whether true or false, it does exercise, at least is supposed to exercise, an influence on the feelings and con- duct of some of the believers in it. Grant that our hopes of salvation through Christ, are as chimerical as the notions of the Hindoos ; still it would be possible and it is surely true, that this hope may stimulate the Christian to exertion, and may con- sole him under misfortunes. But let even this be denied ; let it be said that the virtuous Christian would, from an innate sense of propriety, have displayed equal rectitude and equal patience if he had been an unbeliever ; still it must at least be admitted, that he himself thinks otherwise ; — that he does pray for divine guidance, and support under affliction ; and that he does, whe- ther erroneously or not, attribute his own virtue and fortitude to his christian faith.
To represent therefore persons of various ages, sex, country, and station in life, as practising, on the most trying occasions, every kind of duty, and encountering every kind of danger, difficulty, and hardship, while no one of them ever makes the least reference to a religious motive, is as decidedly at variance with reality, — what is called in works of fiction, unnatural ; as it would be to represent Mahomet's enthusiastic followers as rushing into battle without any thought of his promised paradise.
Now if we were to imagine, e.g. a Chinese forming his ideas of the English nation wholly from these tales, he would never suppose that any such thing as the christian religion had ever
• Let it not be supposed that we mean by this expression, to question the re- ligious belief of the excellent writer
in a manner that might not offend a great number of Christians, Miss E. pro- bably did not perceive how easily the
whose works for children have suggested : great motives to virtue proclaimed in the the present remarks. Miss Edgeworth's ! gospel, may be brought into full opera-
-.
omission of religious motives, however tion in a moral narrative, without any
contrary to our notions, we believe to 5 reference to the points of controversy
arise from a benevolent though misguided between the various denominations of
desire of enlarging her own sphere of ( Christians, usefulness. Unable to touch on religion
328 JUVENILE LIBRARY.
even been heard of among us ; much less, had ever been thought of as influencing the character, and as an essential part of educa- tion. And he would be the better justified in drawing such a conclusion, from the remarkable prominence given to the moral, in every tale, and their instructive design being most anxiously pointed out. Yet such a conclusion would be very far indeed (though we would wish it were much farther still) from the truth. This therefore is a blemish in point of art, which every reader possessing taste must perceive, whatever may be his reli- gious or non-religious persuasion.
Our present business however, is not with the question of taste, but of practical utility. Tales of such a description as we have been speaking of, should be placed in children's hands with great caution. Many of them are too valuable in other respects to be excluded. But besides the intermixture of tales exempt from this defect, the youthful reader should also from time to time, be himself warned of it ; and this, not by merely telling him in general terms, that in such and such a story there is no mention of religion, but by pointing out that the representation of disinterested, systematic, thorough-going virtue, in such and such an instance, is wanting in one point — the reference to chris- tian motives, to render it natural ; that to realize such a picture, it is absolutely necessary, if not for all, at least for the great body of mankind, to resort to those principles which in the fiction are unnoticed. It must be pointed out in short to the young reader, that all these " things that are lovely and of good report " which have been placed before him, are the genuine fruits of the Holy Land, though the spies who have brought them, bring also an evil report of that land, and would persuade us to remain wandering in the wilderness.
The particular fault, however, which we have been noticing, is not of course the only one of the same class, that is to be guarded against. Every system and every subdivision of opinion respect- ing points of religion and morals, has its advocates and its oppo- nents among the list of nursery authors. All cannot of course be in the right ; but all have a right to present to the world the
JUVENILE LIBRARY. 329
result of their own sincere conviction ; leaving each parent to decide what he shall receive, and what reject. We have nothing to do at present with the question how far in any case the hold- ing of erroneous principles is deserving of censure ; but none certainly is due to the promulgation of those which any one does honestly hold.
It is however a censurable, though not a very uncommon practice, to insert in children's books statements, and reasons, and descriptions, which, it must be supposed, the writers of them know to be untrue. In this respect we fear the works put into children's hands too much correspond with the language they hear from parents and nurses. To evade disagreeable questions, — to satisfy a child's doubting mind, — to induce him to do what we wish, — or even to save trouble to his instructor, — falsehood is commonly resorted to without scruple ; and yet wonder and displeasure are expressed if the child grow up un- scrupulous himself in the use of tricks and false pretences ; and if he regard with suspicion those who have thus abused his con- fidence. As reasonably might one expect cleanly habits from one who had been reared in a sty with swine, as a frank, open, unsuspicious love of truth from him who has been made in childhood first the dupe, and afterwards the imitator, of false- hood. So far is it from being true, that a lie to children is allowable or insignificant, that no deceit (relative to matters in themselves of small moment) practised on adults, can be near so mischievous, or consequently so criminal.
But on this point we cannot do better than support our views by an appeal to a writer of as high authority on the subject, as experience and good sense can confer : —
" Let all who are engaged in the care of children consider it a duty of primary, of essential importance, never to deceive them, never to employ cunning to gain their ends, or to spare present trouble. Let them not, for instance, to prevent a fit of crying, excite expectation of a pleasure which they are not certain can be procured ; or assure a child that the medicine he must take is nice, when they know to the contrary. If a question be asked them,
330 JUVENILE LIBKARY.
which they are unwilling or unable to answer, let them freely con- fess it, and beware of assuming power or knowledge which they do not possess : for all artifice is not only sinful, but is generally detected, even by children : and we shall experience the truth of the old proverb, ' a cunning trick helps but once, and hinders ever after.' No one who is not experimentally acquainted with children, would conceive how clearly they distinguish between truth and artifice ; or how readily they adopt those equivocal expedients in their own behalf, which, they perceive, are practised against them." — Hints on Early Education.
How far however the writer may in any case be chargeable with wilful deceit, it is not easy positively to determine, nor is it practically needful ; it is the teacher's business to clear his own conscience, {Iter's perhaps we should rather say,) and to pro- tect the purity of the youthful mind from all risk of the con- tamination of deceit, by pointing out and protesting against every thing of the kind, even in matters the most trivial. Take an instance from Mrs. Trimmer's Easy Introduction to the Knowledge of Nature, p. 70, 17th edition. We prefer select- ing examples from books in the highest repute. " It grieves me to be obliged to kill any of the poor chickens ; but as I told you in respect to the sheep and oxen, were we to suffer them all to live, they would die of hunger, and cause us to do so too, for they would eat up all the wheat and barley, and we should have neither bread nor meat for our use."
This does well enough, it may be said, to satisfy a child. True : but he is satisfied only for a very short time : it sooner or later occurs to him, that no danger of being overstocked with horses, compels us to feed on their flesh ; and on the other hand, that sheep and poultry are reared on purpose to be killed and eaten. The same detection awaits the other reason with which children are sometimes deceived, on the same point, viz. that the flesh of animals is necessary for our sustenance ; the child, per- haps, at the very same time is reading accounts of nations sub- sisting almost entirely on rice, maize, &c. which, together with his own observation of those of our peasantry, whose diet is almost exclusively bread and potatoes, soon undeceive him ; and
JUVENILE LIBRARY. 331
when the imposition has been detected, the author of it is liable to the proverbial penalty of not being believed even when he speaks truth.
But of all frauds, incomparably the most pernicious are pious frauds. We select an instance from the Footstep to Mrs. Trimmer' 's Sacred History : — •
" On the seventh day God rested from his work, and blessed all that He had made. Thus we keep every seventh day holy to the Lord, in which we do no work ; to remind us of God's mercy, in creating all things for o\ir use in six days."
No doubt the author had the pious intention of inculcating in the easiest and readiest way a due reverence for the Lord's Day ; trusting that the child will not, for the present, find out that Saturday is the seventh day, and that the day on which we " go to church," &c. is commemorative of the Lord's resurrection on the day after the sabbath.
A little book, entitled Spring Blossoms, which contains seve- ral stories and dialogues, which would be not ill- calculated for children of six or eight years old, were it not too full of fine language, contains two accounts of divine judgments, (for such, they are represented,) one, the sudden death of a naughty boy, who took a bird's nest, (p. 38,) the other the loss of an eye by a fish-hook, as a judgment for angling, (p. 147.) It is true, that such accidents may occur ; but it is not true that they are judg- ments ; or that a boy is more likely to break his neck in climb- ing a tree, to take a bird's eggs, than if it had been with the humane desire of restoring them ; nor is it true, in short, that temporal judgments form the sanction of the christian religion. And all this, children will soon find out ; they will soon discover that many naughty boys do not break their necks ; and that an heroic zeal to rescue a fellow -creature, does not always secure a man from being drowned in the attempt ; and when such false grounds of a trust in Providence have been removed, if it be afterwards rebuilt on a truer foundation, small thanks are due to the deceitful instructor ; for how is the child to know that he
332 JUVENILE LIBRARY.
has not been deceived all through in what he has been told about religion ? And who will undertake to say, that no part of the scepticism and irreligion that exist in the world, can be traced to the early association thus formed between religion and impos- ture ? In the long run, it will always be found that honesty is the best policy.
These, however, and many other blemishes of less importance, whether arising from the ignorance and misconception, or the prejudices or indiscretion of the writers, are to be found in many books, too useful on the whole, to be on such grounds rejected by instructors. They are only recommended carefully to look over whatever is put into their pupils' hands, and to correct the faults either with the scissors, the pen, or an oral explanation. In some cases, this last may lead to profitable discussions with the child : in others, to such as would be unnecessarily perplex- ing and unsatisfactory ; which had therefore better be avoided by erasing a passage, or destroying a leaf.
We cannot dismiss the subject without bearing testimony to the excellence of all Mrs. Hack's publications that we have met with ; their simplicity and good sense, and the skill with which they are adapted to convey, in a pleasing manner, the most valuable instructions to children of the various ages for which they are respectively designed. Some of them indeed, particu- larly her Evidences, though not above the comprehension of a child of twelve years old, may be perused with advantage by almost any one. Mrs. Sherwood and Mrs. Cameron are among the most copious and most attractive contributors to the Juvenile Library; and their tales, though not exempt from occasional blemishes, are, for the most part, as instructive as they are in- teresting to their young readers.
We also feel bound to add a word of praise to the elementary works of the Rev. I. Taylor, as combining amusement with a great mass of useful information. We wish, however, that in his interesting account of British manufactures he had abstained from instilling into the minds of children some very questionable
JUVENILE LIBRARY.
333
notions connected with political economy1. We would inculcate it as a most important maxim in every branch of instruction, not to assert any thing as unquestionably true, on which there are strong grounds for doubt.
The little book last mentioned at the head of this Article, though the most unassuming in the whole circle of the Juvenile Library, should not be left unnoticed. It contains the facts which are the origin and foundation of the christian faith, so simply stated, that a child seven or eight years old, cannot fail to understand them ; so affectingly told, that a grown person, in whose bosom that faith is not quite extinguished, will not read them without emotion.
1 " A very costly manufacture of lace once flourished at Honiton in Devon- shire ; but laces of that expensive sort are not so much worn now as formerly ; but it is to be regretted ; as ladies who have plenty of money are supporting in- dustrious manufacturers when they spend some of it in this way."— .Scene* of Bri- tish Wealth, p. 27. " A Mechlin head- dress, our grandmothers used to say, though it cost twenty guineas, would last
a lady her whole life. The fashion is not now for what will last a lady her life, she better likes to have something new every year, or even two or three times every season " lb. p. 28 Young people who read these two sentences, must be at a loss whether the present ladies or their grandmothers are most entitled to praise for the application of their money to the support of industrious manufacturers.
INDEX.
PAGE
Abstraction, use of 67
Advocate, profession of 17, 21
American Indians, anecdote of 54
Aristotle, his Morals 101
Arnold, Dr., bis Sermons 317
Assar, tribe of ... . 180
Balaam 191
Bantam, King of 209
Barbarians 33
Barrister, profession of 20
Baxter, reviewer of 53
Beagle, voyage of the 34
Berkeley 37
Birkbeck,Mr 212
British Critic 118
Bridgeman, Laura 70
Buonaparte, history of 92
Butler, Bp 6, 21
Cadmus 85
Calvin 109
Cameron, Mrs 332
Canaan, land of 178
Caprice, attributed to the Deity 105
Cat, sagacity of 64
Catlin, Mr 48
Ceremonies 153
Changes, love of 160
Children, Egyptian 129, 133
Cholera in Poland 207
Chosen, the 195
Chronicles, Book of 180, 203
Clerical profession 5
Committee on Transportation 268
Common-sense 209
Conversion Ill
INDEX. 335
PAGE
Copernican System 203
Copleston, Bp 4, 144
Copts 134
Corn-dealer 19, 79
Correction 250
Counsel, licence of 22
Cowley 149
Creation, vestiges of 41
Custom 173
Darwin, Mr 34, 58
Deaf-mutes 69
Death-led 15
Defoe 38
Deuteronomy 185
Development, theory of 47
Division of labour 33
Docility, proves Reason 63
Dog, sagacity of 63
Dream, supposable 140
Duty, notion of 102
Edinburgh 199
— Review 48
Edgeivorth, Miss 326
Education 173
Elect, the 195
Emigration, for whom suitable 239
Ephraim, tribe of 180
Essay, ancient meaning of 151
Evidences of Christianity 50
Evidences, study of 112
Evil Eye 131
Experience 209
Ezekiel 181
Familiarity, dangers of 319
Fatalism 135
Fellahin 120
Female writers 301
Fig-tree, barren 7
Fools, diverse characters of 295
Fuegians 27
Genesis, Book of 41
Germans, ancient 33
336 INDEX.
PAGE
German metaphysics 145
Gibbon, infidelity of . 55
Gipsies 190
Government, British 138
Graves's Lectures ...»'.'» i . . . 91
Grey, Governor 35
Hack, Mrs 332
Hale, Sir Matt 22
Hannibal 1
Harvey 159
History 283
Hobbes 106
Horse, rashness of . 163
Humboldt » . . . . 43
Hume, on miracles » 118
Improbable 285
Innovations 155
Ireland, attempted division of, from England . 199
Israel, restoration of 194
James, Apostle 193
Jesus of Nazareth, the most remarkable person 179
Judge, office of 21
Kent, insurgents in 207
King, Archbishop 97
Koran, the standard of Arabic 103
Lamarck 47
Language, uses of 69
Lardner . 91
Latin version of Scripture 157
Laura Bridgeman 70
Legal profession 16
Licence of Counsel 22
Love 310
Mahometans, appeal to the style of the Koran 103
Maize, cultivated in Canada 213
Manchester 199
Mancocapac 35
Mandan Indians 48
Maories 35
Marriage of Savages 31
INDEX. 387
PAGE
Martinus Scriblerus, his shield 145
Materialism 14
Medical profession 11
Memory, abuse of 324
Messiah 185
Microscope ' 87
Misselto, Bacon's theory of 150
Money, love of 29
Moral-attributes of the Deity 103
Mormoniles 56
Moses 185
Moth, rashness of 163
Muddy-water, mistaken for deep 145
Myriads of believing Jews 189
National Schools 205
Nature, state of 30
Natural Theology 93
New- Hollanders 31, 37
New Zealand 38
Niebhur 43
Nile , 125
Nobility 152
Nominalism 73
North, Sir Dudley 23
Pagan Religions 110
Papuans 27
Party 175
Peat-boys 279
Peruvians 35
Pious Frauds 9
Plantations 169
Plaster of Paris 217
Pleader, profession of 17
Poetry 283
Poisoning, Egyptian 130
Poland 207
Political Economy 209
Population 107
Praise 170
Prevention of crime 250
Prometheus 35
Promises, mistake of Paley respecting . . . 106
Prophecy, divine, test of 183
Punishments . 250, 255
Z
338 INDEX.
PAGE
Realism 72
Reasoning 17
— peculiar to Man 73
Restoration, temporal, of Israel 194
Retribution 250
Rhetoric, elements of 25
Robinson Crusoe 28
Rousseau, theory of 27
Roussel, his theory 102
Royal Families, in Egypt 129
Sabbath 108,325,331
Sandford and Merton 148
Savages, character of 27
Scripture History 42
Seditions 165
Sermons, Paley's 109
Sherwood, Mrs 332
Signs, general use of 66
Slavery 272
Smith's Voyage of St. Paul 91
— President 44
— Adam 253
Socialism 2U6
Society, Natural History of 32
St. Lawrence, River 225
Style, change of 157
Sumptuary Laws 167
Tacitus 33, 209
Tameness, of Animals 83
Tattooing of Savages 31
Taylor, Mr , 332
— Dr. Cooke 32
Time, effects attributed to 59
Timidity, alleged, of those who appeal to evidence 53
Tribes, the ten 193
— the twelve 193
Trimmer, Mrs 330
Tucker, Paley's guide 106
Turks 120
United States, American 212
Unity, religious 169
Unnatural 285
Usury 167
INDEX. 339
PAGE
Vestiges of creation 41
Virtue, distinguished from prudence 99
Voluntary System 10
War . 165
Westminster Eeview 45, 203
Wildness of animals 83
Women, kidnapping of 275
Work, how to be used as a punishment 279
Zechariah 192
Zingaries 190
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By the Rev. B. Powell, M.A., F.R.S.,
Savilian Professor, Oxford.
Octavo, 9s., with a Coloured Chart of the
Prismatic Spectra.
Christmas Carols.
POETRY
By the late Bishop Mant,
Set to appropriate Tunes, with Accom- paniments for Piano-forte or Organ.
Small Quarto. 4s.
Sacred Minstrelsy.
A Collection of the finest Sacred Music, by the best Masters, arranged as Solos, Duets, Trios, etc., and Choruses; and with Accompaniments for the Piano- Forte or Organ.
Two Handsome Folio Volumes, price 21. 2s., half-bound.
LONDON : PARKER, SON, and BOURN, WEST STRAND, W.C.
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